Ethelbert Nevin, a retired technical draftsman, resides in a quiet New England backwater. Currently translating a novel about Continental pinsetters, Nevin longs for the days when music didn’t try to please everybody.
This may be Chaplin’s finest score, but without the movie, these nearly 80 minutes pass by like a museum exhibition in a foreign land.
A marauding concert requiem easily mistaken for Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 14½.
Ingólfsson stakes a claim near the site that Romitelli quarried. The agile and luscious instrumental textures would have pleased Boulez.
With an assured understanding of the music, Zhu Xiao-Mei’s second take is incredibly personal, perhaps too quirky and nutty for purists.
Is Via Crucis colorless and ephemeral? Is Socrate religious? This duo piano release crafts a universe where Liszt, Satie and Cage blur.
This Dmitri animated by Barnes isn’t the Shostakovich whose music I know.
A modest perplexing explosion as a small, nervous troupe gives life to various French texts while playing.
Hahn’s effervescent pieces stand agreeably between frivolity and pretension.