The Italian Invasion

[Todd A]

Last year, I picked up Pietro De Maria's recording of the WTC, and it was superb in every regard and rates as one of my favorite takes. When I saw he recorded the Goldberg Variations, I had high expectations. The expectations have been met. Overall, the set displays playing just about as beautiful as in the 48, but the approach is a bit different in some respects. First off, there's the slow, restrained opening Aria, played with great beauty and poise, which is followed by a brisk and notably louder first variation. De Maria does this multiple times throughout the set, following a lovely, slow variation with a pointedly faster and louder approach to the next, though everything is perfectly judged in this regard. At times, in a slow variation, one might think that this is the pianist really wants to play, as it sounds graceful and gorgeous, but then he'll play some faster variations with superb, clean articulation and zippy tempi and a still lovely tone, and one will think this is how he really wants to play. Throughout, he embellishes tastefully, varies dynamics basically perfectly (or at least perfectly to my taste), accents notes just right, and often plays with a high level of energy and ebullient lightness. It is definitely possible that some listeners may find some of his playing too precious, but not me. While I can't say it displaces my established favorites - Schiff on ECM and Perahia - I can say that it effectively joins them.

The sound may be just a smidge bright, but is otherwise SOTA.

One amusing item of note, the disc's metadata reports Mahan Esfahani as the artist.



(The physical disc does not appear to be available at Amazon UK yet.)

 

[Todd A]

OK, the only thing Italian about this disc is that was released by Universal Music Italia, but that's good enough for me. This is the third recording Michail Lifits has made for the label, and this time around the recording is of lesser known, or at least lesser recorded works, from a Great Composer: Shostakovich's Op 34 Preludes and the Op 57 Piano Quintet. For the quintet, Lifits is joined by the Szymanowski Quartet in one of its recent guises. The ensemble appears to have undergone two personnel changes in the last couple years, so the ensemble that appears on the disc is one member different than the current ensemble. Since this is my first exposure to them, I don't know if they sound any different than before or after this recording.

I can report that Michail Lifits sounds the same. Masterful control of every aspect of his playing allows him to play gently or ear-splittingly loud, and with a rich tone or a flinty one, as the music demands. This comes in handy in the Preludes. Some are thundering and dark (eg, 14th), some are acidic, some are light and fun, and Lifits manages to make each miniature its own little world. The only other version I've heard is from the likewise extremely talented, but very different Olli Mustonen. Some comparing and contrasting may be in order. But Lifits makes the work seem more substantial and meaningful. The even bigger work here is the Piano Quintet. Lifits opens with wall rattling left hand playing and establishes a somber tone. When the quartet enters, they answer with intensity to match the pianist's, but they back off as the movement unfolds. The dialog between different combos is most effective. The slow movement sounds powerfully sorrowful, a fugue of not a little emotional impact. The Scherzo sounds punchy, the Intermezzo searching, with some fine violin work, in particular, and the Finale sounds more energetic, and if not necessarily uplifting, then at least vibrant enough to shed the weight of the preceding movement. Here's another case where A/Bs are possible, and this time it would be against some heavyweights in the repertoire: Richter/Borodin and Ashkenazy/Fitzwilliam. Such a comparison could be a bit draining, so I'm in no hurry, but surely one must be done.

SOTA sonics, with some breathing and mechanism noise audible. The disc sounds fabulous through headphones or speakers, but for full dynamic impact throughout and for maximum scale in the Piano Quintet, speakers are a must.

Now I've heard Lifits in a decent array of both solo and chamber repertoire, so it's about time he records a concerto. I don't care which one (or more).

A world class release.




At present, only one track is available at Amazon UK as an MP3 download.

 

[Todd A]

A retro entry in the parade of Italian musicians. Dino Ciani, for those who don't know, was a young star of the piano, complete with DG contract, who died in a car accident at the age of 32 in 1974. His LvB sonata cycle has the distinction of having the worst recorded sound of any yet released, worse than even Artur Schnabel's, owing to the fact that it was made with a cheap tape recorder stuck in the audience during a series of recitals. There are moments of brilliance, and some sonatas are quite good, but it's a set ultimately suited to collectors like me. His recording of Debussy's Preludes has long been available on a DG twofer paired with other recordings of Debussy works made by Tamas Vasary. There are some independent label recordings and pirate recordings, as befits a cult artist. This handy DG box offers a more formal and solid selection of works to sample from this long lost artist.

Disc one contains Bach's sixth Partita and two Preludes and Fugues from Book I of the 48. The Partita is a bit leisurely, dark hued, and serious. To be sure, Ciani plays some music with a nice rhythmic snap and the whole thing works very well, though there are better versions out there. The two WTC pieces both sound somewhat somber, very clear, and almost devout. It would have been nice had Ciani been able to record the whole set, and it would have been even better had DG not had to rely on amateur tape recordings.

Disc two is given over to Carl Maria von Weber's Second and Third Piano Sonatas, and two movements from Bartok's Out of Doors, so not exactly core rep. Ciano plays the Second sonata with enough lyricism and flair to satisfy, and he infuses the Andante with more than mere surface sound, but he doesn't try to make the music more than it is. The Third probably comes off slightly better, with a slightly lighter touch in the galloping, great fun finale. The two Bartok pieces are very well done, with the heavily pedaled Night Music very effective. If only he had recorded more Bartok for DG.

Discs three and four are devoted to Chopin and were taken from recitals, with Ciani providing a spoken introduction. The Nocturnes, or most of them anyway, start the twofer off. The amateur recording taken from a recital in the early 70s can't hide its faults, though it sounds much better than his Beethoven cycle. It's something of a pity that the recordings weren't properly made, because Ciani's playing is excellent. It's very atmospheric, brooding and dark, yet beautiful, and the flubs are of the sort one expects in live settings. The recital is filled out with the Barcarolle, Op 61 Polonaise-Fantasie, and an assortment of Mazurkas and Waltzes. They all sound excellent, the Barcarolle and Polonaise-Fantasie, in particular benefitting from Ciani's approach.

The last two discs contain his well-known Debussy Preludes, and one of the main attractions of the set, Schumann's Noveletten. The Debussy has always been very enjoyable, if not a first choice for me. Ciani's tone is generally dark and bass-rich, his tempo a bit leisurely, but his dynamic range superb (capped by a grand La cathédrale engloutie) and the second book ends with dazzling playing in both Les tierces alternées and Feux d'artifice. The Schumann offers more. Ciani's temperament seems a perfect fit for the work, with his big sonority and ability to play both a bit broad yet with momentum in the Eusebius passages and an almost nonchalant brilliance that never sounds overwrought in the Florestan passages making the work cohere more than one might think. The playing really does have it all, and while I don't exactly have an extensive collection of the complete Noveletten, both Michel Block and Yves Nat deliver superb renditions, and Ciani is basically on par with them, and different enough to enjoy for different reasons. Sound is a bit sub-par for the era, but is more that sufficient to allow near-maximum appreciation of the artistry on display.

There's enough fine pianism here to justify the purchase of the set and to put up with the sub-par sound, but, the Schumann aside (the Debussy has already gotten its due), I doubt any of the pieces get a lot of spins, and I will not go out of my way to buy all of the various other live recordings out there, though if a cheap box with everything became available, I'd bite.



Amazon UK link

 

[Todd A]

Enrico Pace's sole solo commercial studio recording to date. (There's an early solo recording of the Liszt Sonata, Dante Sonata, and Réminiscences de Don Juan, but that was for publication promotion purposes.) That the 1989 Liszt International Piano Competition winner might have some affinity for Liszt isn't so surprising, and given that Pace has provided world-class piano accompaniment in world-class recordings of core chamber music rep, it is not surprising that this recording ends up sounding swell.

Pace's way is not one of hypervirtuosic bombast; rather, his way is more lyrical and poetic. That's not to say Pace cannot play the music with the necessary executive brilliance, because he can and does. He just focuses on other things. He'll lovingly attend to each note in some arpeggios, weighting them all equally on occasion, making them sound more important and longer than other takes, though they are not. He'll lavish attention on upper register playing, with some sounding crystalline and pure. He'll deliver some of the most beautiful and tender pianissimo playing, as in Les cloches de Geneve, where one can envision Liszt wanting to transcribe the experience of hearing gently tolling distant bells one particularly lovely morning with Marie d’Agoult by his side. He'll produce rich and weighty lower register playing without drowning out higher registers. In Eclogue, he creates a dazzling effect with light but insistent and steady left hand playing providing a foundation for the beautiful right hand melodies in a way I've not heard before.

The pianistic and interpretive goodness carries over to year two. Each piece is fully characterized, and Pace plays with unique but not overbearing personal touches. Could some phrases be less clipped in Il Penseroso? Undoubtedly. I might like the result more than this, or I might not. The Petrarch Sonnets are wonderfully poetic and flowing. Pace doesn't quite play with the same type of delicate and wide-ranging pianism as Julian Gorus, but the aesthetic impact of his playing is similar, and the beauty undeniable. The Dante is swift and dramatic and large-scale enough to more than satisfy, and if even more powerful versions are out there, there may not be better ones.

It's a pity that Pace did not record the whole set - indeed, he didn't even record Venezia e Napoli. This is absolutely wonderful Liszt playing, and had Pace included the final year, this might be the Années to own. At the very least, this stands alongside Rubackytė, Chamayou, Gorus, and Schirmer.

Sound is fully modern, but dynamic range is not SOTA.



Amazon UK link

 

[Todd A]

Earlier this year, I was wowed by Trio Owon's Beethoven Piano Trios, making me think it might not be a bad idea to hear more recordings of the works. I was also wowed by Sonig Tchakerian's Bach Solo Violin Sonatas and Partitas, making me think it might not be a bad idea to hear more recordings from her. As it happens, in 1994, she recorded the Beethoven Piano Trios as part of the Trio Italiano. So that seemed like something I wanted to try, and when I found the three discs for old-time Naxos prices, I bought the recordings. This set is not of the super-complete variety, excluding some early pieces and the Op 11 Gassenhaur Trio, but the Opp 1, 44, 70, 97, and 121a works are all included.

As with almost all good chamber music recordings, there is no true star here, with each musician getting his or her time to shine, and lots of quality work together. In the early works there's a nice mix of energy, refinement (a Goldilocks amount), youthful vigor, and some actual fun (like in the finale of Op 1/1). In the Op 70 trios, the players never play with the same level of energy as the Trio Owon, though they still have plenty of energy, but they do play with a sort of rough-hewn elegance. This is middle period, bawdy joke, rough and tumble Beethoven, but it is classed up enough for salons and parlors. Good stuff. The trio sees fit to impart a more romantic tinge to the Archduke, which is quite alright, especially when delivered so well. The two sets of variations mix the various traits to excellent effect, as well.

All three artists play very well. Tchakerian, the reason I bought the set, plays in a more or less conventional way, without the more robust individuality found in her Bach. That's not at all meant as criticism, and indeed, this is not meant to imply that she plays timidly, because that's not the case for her or her partners. As performed and recorded, pianist Giovanni Battista Rigon can overpower the other players here and there, but in Beethoven's chamber music, that's not unheard of.

Overall, the Trio Owon are better across the board, but this newcomer to my collection offers another supremely enjoyable recording with enough corporate individuality to warrant multiple listens.

Sound is very much in line with the audiophile approach common to the Arts label, and sounds very similar to Telarc recordings of the time. The recordings are a bit more distant than normal, with plenty of natural reverb, and a completely natural level of detail, and phenomenal dynamic range (maybe even too much) and the recordings sound clean, clean, clean. The very best recordings of today are perhaps slightly better in terms of detail, but the sound more than holds up and can be considered either SOTA or just shy of that ever improving standard.



Amazon UK Vol 1 link

Amazon UK Vol 2 link

Amazon UK Vol 3 link

 

[Todd A]

Here's a nice, low-cost surprise. Thus far, I've only purposely purchased two CPE Bach recordings: Mikhail Pletnev's awesome single keyboard music disc, and Ana-Marija Markovina's hulking complete solo keyboard music box set. I much prefer Pletnev's superior albeit more idiosyncratic pianism, though some of Markvina's playing is very enjoyable. (I have a few CPE Bach discs buried in big box sets, too.) I wasn't in the market for new CPE Bach, but this twofer was under $3 as an Amazon Add-On, so only one good cup of coffee was at risk financially. Truth to tell, I bought the set with no investigation, and it was not until after I bought it that I learned that it's a HIP set, played on a modern Schwarz reconstruction of a 1749 Silbermann. I'm generally not a fan of fortepiano recordings, with a few exceptions. (When it comes to using ancient instruments or reconstructions thereof, I'm utterly indifferent.)

Andrea Coen himself is an Italian performer and musicologist who has worked with HIP A-listers, put together the first complete critical edition of Domenico Cimarosa's keyboard works, and he is on the scientific committee (?) of the complete works of Muzio Clementi, as well as being engaged in some other major musicological endeavors. He very clearly has the background for this project.

I didn't feel like doing extensive A/Bs with the music, but one couldn't hurt, so I decided on the first work in the Coen set, Wq 118/4 (H54). Markovina's playing is generally crisp and light, and while Coen's is, too, it's also a bit more relaxed in overall approach. Certainly, the more soothing tone of the HIP keyboard contributes to that when compared to a modern Boesendorfer, but so does the over minute longer that Coen takes. Of course, some specific phrases and arpeggios become a bit clearer as a result. Call it something of a draw, though being able to just kick back and relax and listen is fun here, in works that are not particularly deep. Coen's overall approach doesn't change throughout the set. That is not to say that the music ends up suffering from a "sameness" that can creep into such projects, because the music is nicely varied. As I listened to the 135 tracks, the music ended up feeling like a lengthy collection of divertimenti. I doubt I ever obsessively collect or listen to these works or this recording, but this is the type of disc that would make for outstanding background music while one is engaged in other endeavors where it is possible to shift full attention to the music on a whim. I also suspect that I will, on a whim, just listen to some of the music when I'm in a mood for something a little different but not heavy.

Superb, with even the mechanism noise not detracting from enjoyment.



Amazon UK link

 

[Todd A]

[This will be cross-posted in Schubertiade]

Michelanagelo Carbonara is a thirty-something pianist born in Italy who studied at both the Santa Cecilia Conservatory and Academy, won or placed in over a dozen competitions, and worked with a variety of more famous names in master classes and the like. He has done the touring thing, of course, and records mostly for Brilliant Classics, under both the Brilliant and Piano Classics imprints. This is the first time I've heard anything from him.

The disc opens with D157. Carbonara's approach in the opening Allegro ma non troppo is direct and unaffected, light and charming, lyrical and clear. So far, so good, if a bit unmemorable. The slow Andante contains more pronounced Schubertian lyricism and melancholy, without overdoing it, with left hand playing that sounds both full and light. Carbonara finishes the sonata off with a quick, cleanly articulated Menuetto. It sounds quasi-rushed and more stormy-lite than light. A good start.

D664 follows, and Carbonara goes for endless, flowing lyricism in the Allegro moderato, playing some of the upper register music in a slightly precious way. Sound is tilted to the middle and upper registers, though that doesn't matter much here. The Andante is played even more beautifully and delicately than the opener. The bass-light sound makes the music sort of float, and the very narrow dynamic range makes it fall softly on the ear. Carbonara then ends with an Allegro that remains lyrical and includes approximations of more robust playing, the bass-light sound depriving the music of oomph, though here, in this sonata, that's not a major detriment. Indeed, it's an excellent performance, one worthy on inclusion in a shootout, and the best thing on the disc.

D845 closes out the disc. I tend to prefer an edgier, more intense approach to this sonata, though there are obvious exceptions (eg, Michail Lifits.) Carbonara's approach is somewhat similar to Lifits in some ways. He never rushes the Moderato, which is good, and some of the playing is very small-scale, very intimate. Large dynamic swings sound medium-sized here, and a sense of mystery permeates much of the playing. The Andante is slow and delicate and deliberate and intimate. It's drawing room, Schubertiade Schubert, and strikingly effective. The Scherzo is just about perfectly paced and a bit more robust than the first two movements, but it is still restrained, and the Trio is just gorgeous. Carbonara closes out with a Rondo that alternates between vigorous passages and gentler passages quite nicely. Like Lifits, he makes a strong case for a less intense reading of this sonata, though it lacks that some extra that Lifits brings.

Per Carbonara's site, he has all of Schubert's sonatas in his repertoire. Even if the sonatas are not first choices for me, they are all excellent, and they are all purposely more intimately scaled than normal, though this trait is more obvious through speakers than headphones, strangely enough. I wouldn't mind hearing a few more at some point.

Sound is close and dry and bass-light, with some pedal stomps audible here and there.



Amazon UK link

 

[Todd A]

Michelangelo Carbonara's Ravel. Disc one. This is just about the softest-edged, most Debussyan Ravel I've heard. As on his Schubert disc, Carbonara uses a Yamaha CF III, and again the recorded sound is bass light, and here it also sounds delicate and sweet and warm. Those wanting sharper, more linear, cleaner Ravel may want to avoid this set. Make no mistake, some little felicities are meltingly lovely, and those felicities are not rare. The delicate arpeggio that ends the Modere of the Sonatine is a marvel. The Anime closer simply doesn't flow like most recordings, with some stilted left hand playing that nonetheless sounds slightly off-putting but also very intriguing. Sometimes, things take a minute to get used to. Jeux d'eau at first sounds too slow and unflowing, but as it proceeds one gets a better sense of what the pianist wants to do, and the right hand playing at the end is just beautiful. To the extent it is "watery", it is the shimmer of a shallow fountain, some of the light refracting this way and that, at random. Carbonara tends toward hazy and languid playing throughout, but it reaches it's apex in Miroirs, where his timings and style are slow almost across the board. The heavy dollop of impressionism transforms these pieces, though it won't be for everyone. Noctuelles has a sort of meandering, flitting feel to it. Oiseaux tristes, while not absurdly slow in terms of timing, is languid in the extreme, yet lovely. Une barque sur l'océan has got to be one of the quietest, most relaxed versions I've heard. Only about five and a half minutes in does Carbonara play with real power and speed. For the most part, it seems like he cannot find a gentle enough piano or pianissimo note. This is the antithesis of Schuch or Chamayou. Carbonara plays Alborada del gracioso with more power, but not great speed, and his gentle playing becomes slightly hardened, but in a muffled way. Only in La vallée des cloches does the pianist adopt a more or less standard timing, but his style still makes it sound slow, though the sometimes muffled accompaniment and the hazy melody work well together.

Disc two starts off with Gaspard. Carbonara's playing stays bass-light, dynamically constrained, with lovely right hand playing, though it's neither seduces nor sounds particularly watery/shimmering in Ondine. Carbonara's style works superbly in Le Gibet. The small, soft sound creates a simultaneously haunting and desolate and peculiarly comforting sound. It's a grim but harmless dreamscape. Scarbo is too slow and soft-edged to be truly effective, but in its resolutely anti-virtuosic style, it allows the listener to appreciate some passages shorn of bravado and potent dynamics. It both doesn't work and sort of does. No way the weak bass playing should work, but at the same time it is appealing. This Scarbo doesn't menace. This Scarbo taunts a protagonist rendered immobile by a drug induced haze; the little rapscallion jumps into view, leers nastily, disappears, pops back into and out of view fleetingly to taunt once more, then shuffles off into darkness. It's definitely not reference level stuff, but it intrigues in its languid, opiated feel. The Haydn, Borodin, Chabrier, and Prelude miniatures come off nicely, in a relaxed sort of way. The other two big works sound like the others that came before in their softness and smallness. In Valses nobles et sentimentales, Carbonara is loath to venture beyond mezzo-forte most of the time, preferring to hover between that and piano. Le Tombeau de Couperin ends the set, and Carbonara's timings are conventional and his overall style is slightly more direct and linear, and less hazy, but he never completely sheds his soft-edged sound.

Like Tzimon Barto, this Ravel is different, but unlike Barto, it's not different just to be perversely different. In its more or less impressionistic, hazy, at times anti-virtuosic style, it's definitely not for everyone, and it is hard to see this being a reference set for anyone, but for an alternative approach, this mostly works on its own terms.

Sonically, the sound is softer grained and more intimate through speakers than headphones, as with his Schubert disc.



Amazon UK link

 

[Todd A]

The second volume of Roberto Prosseda's Mozart sonatas starts off right where the last one left off, with K309, and it displays all the same traits as the first volume. Interventionist rubato and ornamentation is evident in the very spirited Allegro con spirito and pops up everywhere. Too, Prosseda displays what his Valotti unequal temperament Fazioli can do, ranging from hefty, warm bass to barely there pianissimo so soft one wonders how the piano emits a tone at all. The playing veers squarely into trees rather than forest territory, but all the little felicities Prosseda delivers keeps the listener listening most intently. Prosseda makes sure to open K310 in fast, forceful fashion, with the Fazioli's low registers delivering some rumbly, blurred punch in places. In the Andante, some of Prosseda's playing offers hints of where Beethoven may have derived some of his ideas, especially in some extended left hand runs. He also doesn't skimp on the drama, nor does he do so in the finale. Prosseda then plays a K397 Fantasia that starts off dark and moody and mostly stays that way before transitioning attacca to the opening of K311, which offers a lighter, more refined contrast. However effective marrying the two pieces might be, the playing in the sonata is just dandy start to finish.

The second disc starts with a purely delightful K330, with closing Allegretto so lovely and light that one sort of listens entranced. While I enjoy all of Mozart's sonatas, K331 has slowly emerged as perhaps my favorite, and not so much because of the Alla turca ending - though that is splendid - but because of the opening Andante grazioso theme and variations. Prosseda plays the theme nicely, and then he imbues each variation with enough individuality, in the form of appropriate and lovely ornamentation, well judged rubato, occasional dashes of drama, and other nice little touches - very slightly shortened note values in some right hand arpeggios, say. And at just a whisker shy of thirteen minutes, Prosseda's lavish playing offers extended musical satisfaction. The Menuetto has ample little touches, while the Alla turca displays individual rubato, some moments of notable ornamentation, and large dynamic swings, including some extra-hefty forte playing and a sort of micro-cadenza. K332 displays Prosseda's same traits, and adds a large helping of forcefulness, though there's still a lot of delicate, precious playing. Ditto the second and third movements. Prosseda includes the K400 movement completed by Maximilian Stadler as a sort of encore, and it offers more of the same.

Overall, I dig this set as much as the first one, though this is probably not the best choice for people who want straight-ahead Mozart.

Sound quality is possibly even better than the real thing.

 

[Todd A]

I wasn't looking for a new physical copy of Liszt's Études d'exécution transcendante, but when Mariangela Vacatello's popped up for a couple bucks as an Add-On, I figured why not. Ms Vacatello is not new to my collection. I've got her twofer of Ginastera's complete piano music, and it is most enjoyable, even if she can't match Michael Korstick at his best. (That's a pretty high bar.) Vacatello made her public debut playing a Liszt concerto, so I kind of figured she should have a Liszt style down. She does. Vacatello is at her relative best in the most extroverted, unabashedly virtuosic music. In Mazeppa or Wilde Jagd, she rips right through the bravura music with speed and power and excellent dexterity. In music where either a lighter, more nuanced, or tonally varied touch might come in handy, like Feux Follets, for instance, others offer more. Ricordanza shows that Vacatello can play with a gentler touch, though. Harmonies du soir stands as the highlight, sweeping and romantic and expertly dispatched. A decent set.

 

[Todd A]

Gianluca Cascioli is a pianist of ideas. Whether considering his Debussy or Mozart or Beethoven Violin Sonatas with Sayaka Shoji, Cascioli plays with individuality. The results may be too much of a good thing, or not, depending on taste, but nothing he does sounds run of the mill. When I saw that he recorded Op 106, I knew I would be getting the disc at some point.

The disc opens with Op 78. Even here, Cascioli plays with distinct personality. The Allegro ma non troppo starts with a big, bold sonority that almost evokes an organ-like sound, and he plays the whole movement on the slow side, spicing things up with personal rubato, and then after about three minutes, Cascioli splits the volume between left and right hands dramatically, keeping a steady pulse but while hammering out some right hand playing. The Allegro vivace offers more of the stark, dual dynamic range playing and an exaggerated, puckish sense of humor, though it is entirely calculated. It sounds like no other version and is packed with more ideas than some complete cycles I've heard.

Op 81a acts as the bridge between the two sonatas. Opening quietly and with a rounded tone, it sounds lovely but retains a sense of calculation. As the movement moves to faster music, Cascioli never quite shakes a calculated feel, with all manner of personal touches, mostly rubato, but occasionally with accents. The second movement, while not shaking the feel of calculation, does a better job of creating a sense of emotional turmoil, of longing. Of more interest, though, is the sometimes rock-steady, sometimes purposely uneven bass, the hard-hitting but rounded forte playing, and some especially fine, emphasized arpeggios. The closing movement is faster and more celebratory, but it, too is chock full of little touches throughout, with accenting just so here, and rubato just so there.

Op 106 closes the disc. Cascioli brings the Allegro in at a brief 8'26". In his extensive liner notes, with fourteen footnotes and extensive quotes from Nikolaus Harnoncourt - the recording is dedicated to the conductor's memory - he states that he thinks the metronome marks are correct for the opening movement and that claims that Beethoven did not know what he was doing or that the composer relied on a broken metronome lack musicological evidence. I read the notes before listening, and given the timing, I was hoping for a super-fast take. The brief timing is accomplished by axing the repeat. That ends up being OK since Cascioli also plays the piece uniquely. To start with, Casciol's is less grand in conception than other takes. While not really small in scale, the pianist doesn't use the grandest of gestures. He also plays the opening chords and all returns at an unremarkable tempo. He then plays other material in zippy, almost fun fashion, with the right hand playing dominates. The movement moves forward at all times and is pianistic in conception - no quasi-orchestral sound here. The Scherzo is fast and zippy and purposely congested. It's also lighter in overall feel than many versions. The Adagio comes in at a just slightly quick sixteen minutes and change. Cascioli makes it sound faster than the timing implies. He maintains tension throughout, and if the music never takes on an especially deep or desolate sound, the sort of idealized detachment works. The coda is played very slowly and clearly, with Cascioli savoring the last notes. The finale movement opens with a slow and precise Largo, with dramatic pauses. The fugue is played at a reasonable tempo, with Cascioli sort of skating along. It's often dynamically limited and it is not really clear or even about contrapuntal clarity. It becomes almost a formal fantasia. It's not unappealing, but it doesn't make the listener think "holy smokes, that rocks!". But it doesn't have to. Truth to tell, I was hoping for a slow, analytical, insanely clear disc more along the lines of his Mozart disc, but Cascioli offers something different. This is very much a recording about fine and very fine details.

Cascioli has recorded a handful of other Beethoven sonatas. I'm more than tempted to get my hands on them. I don't know if he plans on recording a complete cycle, but if he does, it will be of the very idiosyncratic variety, like with Sherman and Pienaar and Heidsieck.

As with some prior Cascioli recordings, this is pretty much all his show. He's producer, co-engineer, and did some post-production work. The recording relies on audiophile brand hardware. This disc sounds exactly the way Cascioli wants it to sound. It sounds superb.

 

[Todd A]

Davide Cabassi caught my eye when I discovered he is recording a complete Beethoven sonata cycle for Decca Italy. I'm already collecting Decca Italy's competing cycle from Saleem Ashkar, so I didn't want to start buying Cabassi's cycle, at least not without hearing something else from him. So when I was able to get this disc of Schumann's Carnaval and Piano Concerto for a few bucks, I decided to give it a try. Forty-something Cabassi studied at the Giuseppi Verdi Conservatory and has concertized and recorded for various labels, so he's been around and knows his stuff.

The pianist's take on the solo work is of the fast and well executed variety. Cabassi seems most comfortable with the faster, louder music, while the slower music lacks poetry and nuance when compared to better versions. Also, while well executed, the faster music is kind of faceless a lot of the time. A few potent sforzandi here or there and a potent Pause aside, nothing really stands out as noteworthy or likely to invite many listens. It's not bad, it just gets lost in the crowd of many other versions. The live recording of the Concerto fares a bit better. Cabassi's overall style is much the same, but his playing is a bit freer, as he seems to play off the orchestra. The lack of romantic nuance and the less than BPO quality orchestra prevents the recording from being a top twenty choice, but it's good for an occasional listen.

Sonics are OK, but sub-par for modern recordings. This disc does not make me want to rush out and buy his Beethoven.

The Amazon image does not do full justice to the hot pink hue of the cover.

 

[Todd A]

It sounds too easy. Alessandro Deljavan has such highly developed technique that Chopin's Etudes sound so easy that the pianist must embellish them to make them interesting for him. Whether his embellishments make the playing interesting to listeners will depend to a large extent on how much said listeners like a pianist inserting copious amounts of personality. I'm rather fond of such an approach, especially when backed by playing displaying awesome control and precision. Tzimon Barto, himself an uber-interventionist, boasted in the liner notes of one of his discs about having three dozen dynamic levels between ppp and fff. That seems coarse compared to Deljavan. The best analogy seems to be that Barto's finely tuned playing is the pianistic equivalent of a precise, stepped pre-amp attenuator while Deljavan's is a high-grade, infinitely adjustable potentiometer. The Italian seems to extract more than three dozen levels between pp and mf alone, and on this disc he rarely ventures into thundering playing, though clearly he can do whatever the hell he wants to do. Every piece on the disc finds Deljavan doing something of note. His legato can be a smooth as smooth can be. His dynamic levels may vary a little or a lot between voices, and alternate throughout a piece. Accenting and rubato are personal and deployed frequently. Some passages almost seem as though Deljavan wants you to admire just how beautiful he can play just because he can. In that way he comes off as a gentler Ivo Pogorelich at times. I've listened to the disc multiple times, through speakers and headphones, and each time I've heard something new. As a display of pianistic ability, this disc is most impressive. I can't say that Deljavan matches the likes of pianists as different as Pollini, or Francois, or even Lisiecki, whose recording has just gotten better with each listen, but there is some compelling playing here - enough to make me think that his recent release of Chopin's Mazurkas and Grieg's Lyric Pieces are worth hearing.

 

[Todd A]

This third Schumann disc from Maurizio Baglini finds the pianist playing in a tiny church for a small audience in a live recording shorn of editing and other niceties. The booklet interview indicates that Baglini has come to hold a negative view of studio recordings, which he thinks rob performances of spontaneity and result in artificial perfection. He's not wrong. It was also revealed with the release of this disc that the pianist will record a complete Schumann cycle. That's nifty.

The disc opens with Kinderzenen. Baglini starts off playing fast 'n' fluid, with fine detail sacrificed to a bigger picture take, or as big as it gets in this work. The piano sound is lovely and smooth, but the music is sometimes a bit rushed when compared to other versions, fitting right in with what Baglini wanted, and sometimes the music has a dark cloud over it. In Wichtige Begebenheit, one is reminded that Baglini is playing a mighty Fazioli in a small space, as the lower registers swallow everything. Pleasingly, the sound is warm and rounded rather than clangy or heavy. Traumerei is perhaps a bit plain, though quite lovely. Baglini is at his best in the more animated pieces in this work, there's no doubt; he plays with greater abandon, greater freedom, unafraid to dash off some playing. He's also unafraid to ride the sustain, creating a hazy, dreamy soundworld dominated by legato, something he mentions in the liner notes.

Davidsbündlertänze follows. Ample pedaling is evident here, but so, too, is Baglini's well-established ability to and penchant for, wailing out forte passages. The piano, pedaling, and recording venue all conspire to soften the edge of the Fazioli, though at times Baglini switches things up enough to let the higher registers cut through. Sometimes the playing sounds almost reckless. Mostly though, the playing renders the piece like one small dance-fantasia following the other, with brief moments of inspiration - some rushed arpeggios, say, or a piercing upper register note - popping up here and there. This is decidedly not a take carefully planned out for the ages; it's a recital performance. There's often no arc; there's just playing - very fine playing. Come Mit Humor (the second one), Baglini sees fit to dash off some right hand playing in a most pleasing nonchalant manner, and he follows that with an at times thundering Wild und lustig, which veers right into banging territory in the loudest passages. In the final piece, Baglini freewheels it a bit. Whether it's a bit too much or not depends on taste.

The disc ends with the main attraction, Kreisleriana. Baglini opens in a personal, lurching fashion. It's certainly extremely animated, but not since the first spin of Dina Ugorskaja's take have I heard something as disorienting in the opening movement. (I must say, I do fancy the way Baglini holds the last note and lets it decay.) In the second movement, Baglini's Eusebian bona fides come to the fore in a more relaxed and attractive and dreamy fashion, though Florestan is not to be suppressed in the movement. The playing does seem a bit episodic, with the transitions between different sections sort of arbitrary or rushed, but the goal here is spontaneous playing. This occurs time and again, though time and again Baglini plays this or that passage with some personal approach or insight or intimacy that, if not revelatory, at least provokes thought. As the work progresses, whether it's Florestan erupting with passion, or Eusebius dreaming, or a some more earthly and less literary playing, Baglini plays in an attractive or personal manner, ending with a closing movement as personal, if less lurching than the opener. This is not one of the great Op 16s, but it's a good one, and it would have likely been something to hear in person.

I'm admittedly a Baglini fan, so I'm predisposed to like his stuff, and I like this stuff.

Sound for this one-take live recording is close to as good as it gets. If one listens at a loud volume - highly recommended - the bass frequencies drive into the ground and energize the room in a palpably satisfying manner.

 

[Todd A]

Vanessa Benelli Mosell's first full-fledged international release, some Debussy released late last year for this Debussy year. Based on her prior releases, Debussy did not seem the most natural stylistic fit for the pianist, and the results more or less align with expectations. Mosell's tone tends to be on the lean and bright side, her playing more about clarity than tonal luster. She also tends to not dawdle. These traits are on full display here. Her playing is short on atmosphere, longer on drive and vigor. This translates into some hard-edged, very hammerful Debussy, as though informed by Prokofiev. Le vent dans la plaine offers a perfect example. A bit tetchy, with some nice attention to detail - the right hand playing, especially - Mosell plays with a sort of nervous energy that one doesn't always encounter. This is Debussy the forward-looking modernist. That's not to say that Mosell can't cool things off and play with more restraint when called for, as Des pas sur la neige demonstrates, though even there, her tone becomes harder-edged in the louder passages. Come La Cathédrale engloutie, Mosell plays with a nicely taut tempo, but her playing sounds hard in the loudest music, though that's not necessarily unappealing here. Mosell launches Suite Bergamesque with a Prelude that opens at least as forcefully as any in my collection, though the pianist dials back for the middle section. The Menuet is bold and fast, if unnuanced and heavy handed. Mosell then plays Claire de Lune at a slow pace, though without much flow or nuance. Passepied ends the set in an unusual fashion. It's sort of like Debussy informed by Conlon Nancarrow. Overall, this is well enough played Debussy, but not especially good Debussy, or at least not what I typically listen for. It does have some benefit in presenting the composer in a harder hitting than normal fashion.

Sound is quite good, if not quite SOTA.

 

[alanbeeb]

^Vanessa Benelli Mosell is giving Ravel's Piano Concerto with the RSNO in Edinburgh in October.... as its about my favourite piano concerto, I'll give her a listen.

 

[Todd A]

When I worked my way through a big slug of Mendelssohn's Lieder Ohne Worte a few years ago, Roberto Prosseda's set ended up being one of the better ones. I was aware that he was recording all the works for solo piano, as well as the piano concertos and some chamber music, including a superb recording of the First and Third Piano Quartets, but I wasn't especially keen on the notion of hearing that much Mendelssohn. However, when the complete set of solo piano music became available for super-bargain price, I figured it couldn't hurt to give the set a shot. I'll just cover the new discs.

The third disc opens with the F Minor Fantasia, Op 28, which sounds mostly fleet but occasionally organ-like and fairly serious, and then mostly fleet with gobs of notes in the fast slow movement and really fast closing movement. Three sonatas follow. The Op 6 is light and informed by Beethoven to start, but the Tempo di Menuetto movement, if perhaps repetitive, sounds very much like Mendelssohn and is quite appealing, and the Adagio, again informed by Beethoven, is very nice, while the closing movement is quick, laden with many notes, and playful. The Op 106 Sonata is a bit more dramatic and more formal, and while unambiguously romantic, it remains slight, though that is not meant negatively. Op 105 follows, and is less dramatic but more energetic, and quite accomplished for a composer not yet into his teens when he wrote it. The other sonatas all date from Mendelssohn's teen years, including the brief, one movement MWV U 42 sonata that ends the disc, which is a nice, condensed piece.

The fourth disc opens with the well known Rondo Capriccioso. Prosseda keeps it light and lyrical, generally gliding across the keyboard, adding some more drama, and congestion, near the end. There's lots of fast and light playing throughout the other works. In the Fantaisies on Caprices Op 16, the already high overall energy level becomes more pronounced, and Prosseda speeds things up even more. The music and playing is superficially exciting. The Capriccio Op 5 is similar, but it develops into two decidedly different parts in places, with the left hand playing dramatic and the right speedy melody, and Prosseda never breaks a sweat.

Disc five opens with the Op 54 Variations sérieuses. After the Lieder Ohne Worte, this is the piece I've managed to collect the most versions of - Thibaudet, Perahia, Korstick, Renard, Cortot - and Prosseda holds his own. He lacks the impact of Korstick, and the effortlessness and scintillating sound of Thibaudet, but this is none too shabby. The remaining pieces - more variations and Preludes and Fugues - all sound just nifty, though Benjamin Grosvenor shows that even more musical satisfaction can be extracted from selected Preludes and Fugues.

Disc six contains various pieces - character, children, and piano - and preludes and etudes. The seven Op 7 Character Pieces that open the disc are quite nice, displaying sleek Bachian sound, with the last a proto-lieder ohne worte, though less so that the quite excellent Andante e Presto agitato that follows, which sounds like two or three of the pieces stitched together. The various other pieces all sound fun and light. The Op 104 Etudes have some Chopinesque traits, but also seem like they may have inspired others, like perhaps Saint-Saens. The disc also contains two little gems, musical sketches from 1833, MWV U 93 and MWV U 94, both of which were published in 1834. Though short in duration, they both hint at something more. The Andante cantabile opener starts off with an Ave Maria on the organ type sound, and is lovely as all get out. The much more robust Presto agitato is a weighty but small scaled etude. Here's five minutes of unexpected accomplishment and depth. The Perpetuum mobile MWV U 58 that closes the disc is a pure delight and would make a great encore.

The next three discs contain juvenilia and occasional pieces. The discs contain dozens of pieces of various lengths and levels of sophistication. Some are mere wisps of pieces, light and forgettable. Some, though, offer more. Multiple times when listening, one hears what almost sound like sketches or germs of ideas of later, greater Mendelssohn works, like his symphonies or overtures. Some are noteworthy for other reasons. The Bärentanz, MWV U 174 (1842) is a great good time, with a joyfully growling left hand. It would make a splendid encore. The massively scaled, for Mendelssohn (at ~24'), Fantasia MWV U 41 (1823) sounds like souped-up Mozart meets Clementi meets, well, Mendelssohn. The Capriccio MWV U 43 that follows sounds very influenced by Beethoven. (That seems reasonable for a young composer in the 1820s.) Four youthful sonatas are included, and all sound rather more accomplished than eleven year olds might typically write, and if they aren't masterpieces of the genre, they indicate a precociously talented musician with early hints of his future self. Also included in the three discs is a piano transcription of thee pieces from A Midsummer Night's Dream. It's something of a mystery why these pieces are not recorded and performed more, and Prosseda does them proud.

The set closes with a disc devoted to the works for two piano and piano four hands, with Prosseda's wife, the extremely fine pianist Alessandra Ammara, joining in. The disc opens with one complete sonata and one sonata movement for two pianos from a tweenage Mendelssohn. As expected, the wee lad was adept at imitative art, infusing something personal and fun into the proceedings. A substantial four hands Fantasie from the composer's teenage years follows, and here one can hear more hints of the Mendelssohn to come. There's more imitation, to be sure, but Mendelssohn's style shines through, and the drama, sort of faux sounding, nonetheless sounds appealing and offers a nice contrast for the more fluid fast music. "Late" Mendelssohn follows, with a very Mendelssohnian two-movement Duetto and substantial yet slight Andante and Variations priming the listener for the closer, the full six piece transcription of movements from A Midsummer Night's Dream. Here's some of Mendelssohn's best-known, best music, expertly transcribed. From the overture through the Wedding March, the music sounds, if anything, fresher when played on piano than by orchestra. The textures are thicker than for two hands, and the extra digits allow for some dazzling effect (eg, the playful, light, yet dense upper registers in the Overture), and some rich harmonies in the Notturno, among other aural delights. Husband and wife play together splendidly.

The set as a whole is quite good. While some gems pop out, it's clear why relatively few of Mendelssohn's solo piano efforts get a lot of love on disc. His solo piano output as a whole isn't up there with the greatest composers in the space. But there's a lot of enjoyment to be had exploring the compositions, and I'm glad I went for the complete set at a nice price. I'll dip into it again from time to time, there's no doubt.

Production values are superb, as expected, though the sound doesn't match the as good as it gets sound one hears in Prosseda's more recent Mozart recordings.

 

[Todd A]

Gianluca Cascioli is indeed a pianist of ideas. While he does single composer discs, he also likes to put together themed compilations. Sometimes he puts together more than one. Take the disc 900. Or rather, the discs. There's 900, devoted to Russian composers, then there's 900 (Austria-Germany) devoted to Germanic composers. I went Deutsche for this round.

The disc opens with Zemlinsky's Fantasien uber Gedichte von Richard Dehmel. The piece is very much of Zemlinky's lush, late romantic world, just under four minutes of harmonic luxuriance and beauty, even if the piece is on the slight side. The next work is rather more formidable: arguably the best-ever Op 1, Berg's Piano Sonata. Cascioli wades into territory where giants rule, and fortunately he fares pretty well. His playing is a studied variant of of-the-moment playing, with individual passages taking precedence over the architectural whole. The piece takes on a more romantic, fin de siècle feel than in some other recordings. There's an instability to the playing, too, that sounds quite appealing. Next up are two selections from the Op 2 Klavierstücke mit Überschriften nach Worten von Nikolaus Lenau by Johann Ludwig Trepulka, from 1924. The miniatures likewise maintain a fin de siècle feel in their brief, sparse, attractive way. They are like more melodically satisfying Webern. Next up are selections from Josef Matthias Hauer's Atonale Musik, Op 20 from 1922 and a couple Zwolftonspiel pieces from the '40s and '50s. Schoenberg's theoretical competitor wrote even more Webernian pieces, with the Op 20 pieces coming in at under two minutes, or even a minute, a pop. They say everything they have to say with an economy of notes. While undeniably ultramodern (for the time), they manage to sound rather appealing. Those searching for memorable, hummable tunes may dislike the pieces. The Zwolftonspiel are slightly broader of conception, the first a bit colder and sparser, the second a bit jollier and sparser.

Next up is the Fourth Piano Sonata, Op 150, by Helmut Neumann. The movements are compact, sparse, and unfold in a supremely logical way. No excess notes here, and though again severe when compared to standard piano sonata fare - with an abrupt, purely logical end to the second movement Andante molto that nearly startles - Cascioli delivers the movements in a manner that makes them rather attractive nonetheless. The next work is a big one, Hindemith's Third Piano Sonata. My only prior exposure to this sonata came by way of Maurizio Paciariello's recording. Cascioli makes a stronger case for the piece. He delivers on the more expressive aspects of the music, sounding playful, forlorn, etc, while delivering both beautiful and austere sounds from his instrument as needed. The piece comes across as more varied and substantive, and more in line with sonatas that predated it, making it seem like it's nothing less than the logical continuation of the Germanic sonata tradition. Which it is. To be sure, one hear hints of Prokofiev in the score (or perhaps one hears hints of Hindemith in Prokofiev's writing), and that is not only OK, it's most enjoyable. The disc closes with Wilhelm Killmayer's An John Field: Nocturnes - No. 5. In a sort of stylistic pastiche reminiscent of some of Berio's compositions, Killmayer, through Cascioli, delivers music that alternatively sounds unabashedly harsh and modern and breathtakingly gorgeous. While the different sections sound marvelous, it is sometimes the transitions that beguile, as, for instance an arpeggio becomes the perfect vehicle to move between eras and styles with only a few notes.

Throughout the disc, Cascioli plays immaculately. One gets the sense, as with his Mozart disc, that every note and every pause was thoroughly, exhaustively thought through. Nothing is left to chance.

I ended up going for a 24/192 download since it was the same price as the 24/96 download and less than I would have had to pay for physical media. Cascioli personally pays special attention to the sound of all his recordings. This one is the best sounding piano recording I've ever heard.


Amazon UK link: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07HSM5CJR/?tag=pinkfishmedia-21

 

[Todd A]

This one kind of slipped in under the radar. This three track Liszt EP hasn't even been released on disc, nor have I found a download for purchase, though I didn't try too hard. Didn't have to since it's streamable. Baglini has recorded some other Liszt, and it's pretty darned good, so it's not too surprising that these three tracks ain't so bad, either. The EP starts off with À la Chapelle Sixtine, and the music is very much in line with other holy music of Liszt. It contains passages of bravura piano writing, but it also contains passages inspired by obvious and real devotion. It would be right at home in Harmonies poétiques et religieuses, and Baglini plays it very well indeed. Indeed, it makes me want to hear what he might do with the Harmonies. (It also makes me wish that Michel Block and Jean-Rodolphe Kars would have recorded it.) Sound is more distant and warm and the lowest lower register playing takes on a church organ like texture at points. The sound becomes notable because the first of two Valses oubliées is recorded much more closely. The second comes off fairly light and playful, but strikingly "modern", and almost Ravelian. Baglini plays his Fazioli in such a way as to maximize the benefit from the tart upper registers. Ditto the third valse, where the piano reverb, perhaps augmented with mixing desk tomfoolery, adds some nice color. It's more relaxed, let his long hair down Liszt. Baglini again demonstrates his Lisztian credentials. This entirely entertaining release kind of makes me wonder why the pianist didn't record more and release it in readily available download format. Oh well, it's available for free, and the streaming sound on Amazon is acceptable.

 

[Todd A]

Roberto Prosseda has turned out to be a reliably good pianist, so I figured I should sample his latest releases of Mozart and Mendelssohn, starting with Mendelssohn.

Prosseda wastes no time in demonstrating his Mendelssohn chops. The opening Molto allegro con fuoco of the First has that light romantic sound and feel that Mendelssohn so effortlessly produced, as does the lovely but not overwrought Andante con moto, which Prosseda takes at a leisurely tempo, as if to allow the listener the opportunity to relish the musical goodness. But surely with the first concerto, it is the almost unbearably delightful Presto that's the draw. While Prosseda does not sound as effortlessly virtuosic as Jean-Yves Thibaudet - a near impossibility - he glides over the keys, spinning out the notes with abandon. The Hague band keep up, and all forces combined keep things sounding just swell. The slightly more dramatic second concerto sounds slightly more dramatic. The nifty horn playing in the opening movement sounds great, and Prosseda once again sounds perfectly at home throughout. He never makes heavy work of the music, but he doesn't make it sound slight, either. It may be possible to think Perahia or Schirmer add more artistic weight to the piece, but if they do, it's not by much. No, Prosseda's Mendelssohn is superb. The disc also includes the Rondo Brillant for piano and orchestra, which is like either a condensed concerto or a lengthy, fully developed movement from a mammoth concerto, take your pick. Stylistically similar to the concertos, of course, Prosseda delivers more fine Mendelssohn playing. The disc closes with the Hebrides Overture as something of a bonus. Well executed, it sounds light and swift. Throw in some high end Decca sound, and the disc is very nice. I can't say that Prosseda displaces Thibaudet or even Schirmer, but then, he doesn't need to.

I figured I might as well listen to two new sets of the Mendelssohn concertos if I was gonna listen to one. This thought was the byproduct of el cheapo closeout pricing of Saleem Abboud Ashkar's recording with Riccardo Chailly and Mendelssohn's old band, the Leipzig Gewandhausers. Chailly brings to bear his formidable stick waving skills in the opening works, the Ruy Blus Overture (in the world premiere recording of Christopher Hogwood's edition), and the incidental music to A Midsummer's Night Dream. Premium forces deliver premium results, there's no doubt, and the full scale big band rocks. Only in sonics do they suffer in comparison, and then only by a practically irrelevant amount. Had I bought this disc for the Dream, I'd be most pleased, as this is arguably the best rendition I've heard. But no, I bought it for Ashkar, to hear what he can do. He can do a lot. Though Prosseda uses a Fazioli, Ashkar generates the slightly brighter sound, and perhaps an ever so slightly more refined one. Indeed, while Ashkar chooses a similar overall pace in the first, there's greater fluidity, with more appealing legato and a gentler staccato, than Prosseda. In the slow movements, Ashkar adopts a slightly brisker tempo and plays with a more flowing overall sound, but I can't say whether I prefer it or not. Ashkar goes for an even quicker approach in the Presto, though his playing is sometimes not as clear as Prosseda's. It's still most delightful. The second concerto benefits even more from the Gewandhaus band's extra heft, while Ashkar offers more of the same overall approach. Prosseda may offer a bit more drive in the conclusion, but Ashkar offers more refinement.

Forced to choose a favorite disc, it would probably be the Ashkar disc, but part of that comes down to Chailly and the fillers. Comparing just concertos Ashkar may again get the nod, but only slightly. Best to have both.


Amazon UK link (Prosseda): https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07F7R8HJ6/?tag=pinkfishmedia-21

Amazon UK link (Ashkar): https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00IFOTUW2/?tag=pinkfishmedia-21