How agreeable it is to listen to three sunny melodic 
          works, so full of warmth and nostalgia with the minimum of angst. It 
          really is amazing how these works have escaped the recording studios 
          for so long. Although, in a way, perhaps, it isn’t, for it has only 
          been in the last few years that the musical establishment has turned 
          away from atonality and admitted a (sneaking?) liking for such unashamedly 
          Romantic, even sentimental, works like these gems. 
        
Hahn’s music, redolent of the ‘Belle Epoche’ of the 
          1890s, and the period leading up to World War I, is very approachable, 
          well crafted and often surprisingly original. So far it has only been 
          his songs, and little else, that has been represented in the catalogues 
          so this disc is doubly welcome. 
        
The Piano Concerto’s opening movement, marked 
          Improvisation: modéré, begins in an almost devotional 
          manner before broadening out to embrace material that has a rather cosy 
          French provincial rustic flavour. The second subject is reminiscent 
          of Schumann. Succeeding moods contrast the intimate and dreamy with 
          a rumbustious out-of-doors freshness. The brief central Dance: vif, 
          is full of wit and sparkle and reminds one of Saint-Saëns in playful 
          mood and suggests pre-echoes of Poulenc’s insouciance. The substantial 
          final movement is cast in the form of a triptych: first a lovely, sighing 
          Schumann-like Rêverie that truly haunts; the tempo accelerates 
          into the unruly self-mocking Toccata and the whole is rounded 
          off with a return, after a cadenza, to a dignified close with an allusion 
          to the opening material. A delightful work. 
        
Hahn’s Piano Concerto (first performed in 1930) is 
          available on a historic recording conducted by the composer with soloist, 
          Magda Tagliaferro (Pearl GEM0157) and there is a modern alternative 
          (Hyperion CDA66897) with Stephen Coombes and the BBC Scottish Symphony 
          Orchestra conducted by Jean-Yves Ossonce. Reviewing the latter performance, 
          earlier, I was impressed with Coombes’s sparkling wit and virtuosity. 
          Pondepeyre’s rather careful approach cannot quite match Coombes’s lightness 
          of touch. 
        
Hahn’s Violin Concerto and Suite Hongroise receive 
          their premier recording on this disc. 
        
Denis Clavier is a more assured soloist in the lovely 
          Violin Concerto; his sweet poetic phrasing and technical control 
          a delight to the ear. The work was premiered in 1928. The opening movement 
          marked Décidé, reminds one of the opulence of Korngold. 
          It is strongly rhythmic with determined orchestral tuttis that are slightly 
          military and even jazzy in character but the music is predominantly 
          beautifully lyrical, joyous and sunny with the melodic sweetness of 
          Massenet. Massenet also informs the central movement, Chant d’amour, 
          subtitled ‘Souvenir de Tunis’ and, indeed, the heat and languor 
          of North Africa is nicely brought to mind. This movement is a gorgeous, 
          fragrant, sensual confection; as one of my colleague reviewers has so 
          aptly written, "(it) hovers between dance and delirium". The 
          finale, Lent – Vif et léger, opens quietly so as 
          not to destroy the mood of the slow movement, but soon the pace accelerates 
          and we are whirled away in a merry dance. This performance of the Violin 
          Concerto was recorded live. 
        
Amazingly, the Hungarian Suite for Violin, Piano, 
          Percussion and String Orchestra appears never to have been previously 
          performed. It is difficult to date; the score deposited at the SACEM 
          (Society of Authors, Composers and Music Publishers) was simply marked 
          "19th November 1948". It is a charming, melodic 
          work beginning with a zestful rhythmic movement, Parade, that 
          sounds like a robust mix of Slav and Scottish dance figures. The second 
          movement, Three Images de la Reine de Hongrie, is cast 
          in three sections, two slow enclosing a more agitated passage. It begins 
          in deep romantic yearning (with yet another lovely Hahn melody) and 
          ends plaintively. The last movement, Chants et Danses brings 
          this delightful work to a lively conclusion. 
        
A truly enchanting album calculated to chase away the 
          winter blues. It is incredible to believe that these are premier recordings 
          of Hahn’s Violin Concerto and the Suite Hongroise, both are so effulgently 
          melodic. 
        
          Ian Lace