Classical CDs Weekly: Beethoven, Martinů, Mompou

Beethoven: Symphonies 4 & 5 Concentus Musicus Wien/Nikolaus Harnoncourt (Sony)

Nikolaus Harnoncourt announced his retirement in December, so this live recording from May 2015 is presumably among his last. Harnoncourt has recorded plenty of Beethoven before – including an iconic symphony cycle with the Chamber Orchestra of Europe – but these are period instrument performances, made with his own Concentus Musicus Wien. They're both persuasive, worth hearing for musical and sentimental reasons, Harnoncourt insisting in his eloquent sleeve note that Beethoven's symphonies must be performed without any retouching, that the composer knew exactly what each instrument was capable of. The 5^th Symphony gets the fierier performance, its brusque opening setting the tone. The third movement's horns are sensational, and the blazing opening bars of the Finale are compared by the conductor to a door being opened – trombones and piccolo being outdoor instruments. Exhilarating and uplifting, though Harnoncourt's wayward, infuriating take on the closing chords suggests that he's been listening to a lot of Sibelius.

This Symphony No.4 doesn't always grip in the same way. There’s a suitably dark introduction, but the Allegro vivace's jollity feels a little muted, despite some ear-tickling flute and bassoon playing. Things do improve with a sparky Scherzo, and Harnoncourt's last movement is a charmer, the comical ending drily dispatched. Both symphonies are superbly played and Sony's sound has plenty of warmth. Manfred Honeck's recent Pittsburgh Symphony disc remains my favourite Beethoven symphony pairing on CD, but this one has lots to commend it – far better to be amused and infuriated than sent to sleep.

Martinů: Suites from Špalíček, Rhapsody-Concerto Mikhail Zemtsov (viola), Estonian National Symphony Orchestra/Neeme Järvi (Chandos)

Martinů’s Špalíček was mostly written in the early 1930s, a rambling three-act ballet based on Czech folklore and fairytales. Rare staged performances need a chorus and solo vocalists, so it’s good to be able to sample the music through two suites extracted by the composer. Martinů’s first suite mostly follows Act 1, based on Perrault’s Puss in Boots. Unpretentious and consistently upbeat, it’s impossible to dislike, a sequence of colourfully scored dance numbers culminating in a marvellous, slightly incongruous waltz number – which Martinů filched from the ballet’s final act, based on the Cinderella story. Martinů’s waltz isn’t quite as good as the Prokofiev equivalent, but it contains a nice obbligato piano part. And a beautiful soft coda, before an uproarious polka. Suite No. 2’s dances come from Act 2, tracing the picaresque adventures of a cobbler who at one point loses at cards to Death. Who’s promptly stuffed into the cobbler’s bag and set free outside the Gates of Heaven, to music which sounds simultaneously witty and profound.

The Rhapsody-Concerto for Viola and Orchestra was one of Martinů’s last American works, composed in 1952 before his return to Europe. Sublime and deeply moving, it’s glorious piece, one of the greatest concertante works for viola. Mikhail Zemtsov’s rich tone and impassioned delivery are seductive, backed by luminous playing from Neeme Järvi’s Estonian National Symphony Orchestra. Superbly balanced sound from Chandos – a beautiful disc.

Mompou: Piano Works Vol. 2 Clélia Iruzun (Somm)

Federico Mompou's rarified piano music is an addictive, very private pleasure. Ideally sampled after a long, stressful day. In a darkened room. The more one learns about about Mompou, the more appealing he becomes. What's not to like about a musician who, when asked which composers he admired most, replied “almost all, with the exception of Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven”? Some of the pieces collected on Clélia Iruzun's second Mompou disc suggest a Catalan Eric Satie, though the eccentricities are always understated. At the heart of this recital is Book 1 of Mompou’s Música Callada, written in 1959. These nine enigmatic miniatures don’t contain a wasted note. Elegant and spare, the music’s restraint is captivating, “its mission to reach the most profound depths of our soul...” Less is more. Mompou charms, chills and beguiles by turns. Iruzun conveys the meaning behind the notes, her calm, unflashy playing exactly what’s required.

An early set of Scènes d’enfants is melancholy but moving; more readily accessible are a selection of Mompou’s Canciones y Danzas, elegant transcriptions of traditional Catalan melodies. The tiny Trois Variations allude to Debussy, Ravel and Satie. Iruzun also gives us a selection of unpublished works found after the composer’s death in 1987, including a haunting, subdued Tango. Buy this, and supplement it with Arcadi Volodos’s 2012 anthology.