In the second volume of their Naxos series Zhou and Battersby programme some warhorses – many of Kreislerian stamp – with more unusual, recondite pieces. If this makes for a somewhat uneasy disc – in terms of genre and stylistic disparities – it serves to sustain interest throughout its length.
        
Zhou employs a number of expressive devices to heighten 
          moments of lyric intensity and she has a good control of dynamic gradation, 
          a quality equally shared by Battersby. Especially worthy of note is 
          her veiled tone – most explicitly used in the Op 15 Ballad – which imparts 
          a softened texture to her tonal resources. In this she is joined by 
          Edmund Battersby – listen to his subtle range of dynamics, left and 
          right hand alike, in one of the well-loved Slavonic Dances, the G Minor. 
          The two musicians’ basic impulse is good in the G Major dance but the 
          pizzicato ending could have been less deadpan and rather more wittily 
          pointed. Silent woods originally began as a piano duet and is better 
          known in the cello arrangement. Here, though, both musicians are alive 
          to its evocative lyricism even if this arrangement will never efface 
          the lower voicings of the larger instrument. The Nocturne is a relatively 
          early work and somewhat meandering and unfocused – well though they 
          both try to evoke its melodic contours it still emerges impossibly diffuse 
          whereas the Humoresque’s lyrical central section is attacked with relish 
          – though not always optimum tonal allure. Zhou isn’t afraid to turn 
          on the heat in the Kreisler arrangement of Songs my mother taught me 
          – passionate and evocative playing though maybe excessively so for some 
          tastes. It’s especially interesting to hear the Capriccio (Rondo di 
          Concerto) which is an immature work, unpublished in Dvorak’s lifetime. 
          It is couched in a familiar Konzertstuck manner, essentially Germanic, 
          bristling with rhetorical devices and a battery of textbook Romantic 
          virtuoso tricks which this piano arrangement does nothing to disguise 
          (the version for violin and orchestra is, apparently, lost**). It’s 
          simultaneously a piece both too big for its boots and too insignificant 
          for rediscovery. Convincingly played, though. A rather miscellaneous 
          recital then but with committed performances and in a reasonable acoustic 
          it is frequently of considerable interest. 
        
         
        
Jonathan Woolf 
        
        
** We have received information via our 
          bulletin board that the orchestral score is not at all lost!
          The Dvorak Konzertstuck was played in a dazzling manner, with Italian 
          Television Orchestra conducting Leopold Ludwig by Aldo Ferraresi, the 
          best Ysaye's pupil, in 1967.
        
          
        
See review of Volume 
          1