Hector Berlioz (1803-1869): Les Nuits d’été Op. 7 par Suzanne Danco. 🎧 Qobuz bit.ly/3AVeA1b Tidal bit.ly/3FWlXZY 🎧 Spotify spoti.fi/3vtM5GS UA-cam Music bit.ly/2Z5o5O0 🎧 Apple Music apple.co/3lX5q01 Amazon Music amzn.to/3AZ2iVq 🎧 Deezer bit.ly/3CaVKV6 Soundcloud bit.ly/3kkijjD 🎧 Napster bit.ly/3FuGrsf Awa日本 mf.awa.fm/3pikPdi 🎧 LineMusic日本 bit.ly/3vuMVDp QQ音乐 bit.ly/3EYQvZT Click to activate the English subtitles for the presentation (00:00-00:42) 00:00 Les Nuits d’Été Op. 7 - Vilanelle 02:17 Les Nuits d’Été Op. 7 - Le Spectre de la Rose 08:14 Les Nuits d’Été Op. 7 - Sur les Lagunes (Lamento) 15:17 Les Nuits d’Été Op. 7 - Absence 20:20 Les Nuits d’Été Op. 7 - Au Cimetière (Clair de Lune) 24:58 Les Nuits d’Été Op. 7 - L’île inconnue Soprano: Suzanne Danco Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra Conductor: Thor Johnson Recorded in 1951, at Cincinnati New mastering in 2021 by AB for CMRR 🔊 FOLLOW US on SPOTIFY (Profil: CMRR) : spoti.fi/3016eVr 🔊 Download CMRR's recordings in High fidelity audio (QOBUZ) : bit.ly/370zcMg ❤ If you like CM//RR content, please consider membership at our Patreon page. Thank you :) www.patreon.com/cmrr Berlioz's collection Les Nuits d'été, settings of six poems by Théophile Gautier, was published in 1841 for voice and piano. The orchestral versions, prepared over the following fifteen years, enhanced the beauty of the songs and pioneered a new form: the song-cycle with orchestral accompaniment. The variety of these songs, the way they complement one another and their superb craftsmanship make them eminently modern and forward-looking, one of the composer's most important contributions to French music. Berlioz - Requiem, Grande Messe des Morts Op.5 / NEW MASTERING (Ct.rec.: Dimitri Mitropoulos 1956): ua-cam.com/video/9T131BY2Vxs/v-deo.html Hector Berlioz PLAYLIST (references recordings): ua-cam.com/video/dX7PBMDX06k/v-deo.html
Stunningly beautiful! The clarity of diction; the sensitive accompaniment; and the sheer beauty of Danco's voice and her vocal range, all make for a top-drawer performance! Thank you!
LES NUITS D'ÉTÉ, Op.7 I VILLANELLE Quand viendra la saison nouvelle, Quand auront disparu les froids, Tous les deux nous irons, ma belle, Pour cueillir les muguets au bois. Sous nos pieds égrenant les perles Que l'on voit au matin trembler,
Nous irons écouter les merles Siffler. Le printemps est venu, ma belle; C'est le mois des amants béni; Et l'oiseau, satinant son aile, Dit des vers au rebord du nid. Oh! Viens donc sur ce banc de mousse Pour parler de nos beaux amours. Et dis-moi de ta voix si douce: Toujours. Loin, bien loin égarant nos courses, Faisant fuir le lapin caché, Et le daim, au miroir des sources Admirant son grand bois penché; Puis, chez nous, tout heureux, tout aises, En paniers, enlaçant nos doigts Revenons, rapportant des fraises Des bois! II LE SPECTRE DE LA ROSE Soulève ta paupière close, Qu'effleure un songe virginal! Je suis le spectre d'une rose, Que tu portais hier au bal. Tu me pris encore emperlée Des pleurs d'argent de l'arrosoir, Et parmi la fête étoilée, Tu me promenas tout le soir. O toi, qui de ma mort fus cause, Sans que tu puisses le chasser, Toutes les nuits mon spectre rose A ton chevet viendra danser; Mais ne crains rien, je ne réclame Ni messe ni De profundis. Ce léger parfum est mon âme, Et j'arrive du paradis. Mon destin fut digne d'envie, Et pour avoir un sort si beau Plus d'un aurait donné sa vie; Car sur ton sein j'ai mon tombeau, Et sur l'albâtre où je repose Un poète avec un baiser Ecrivit: "Ci-gît une rose, Que tous les rois vont jalouser."
III SUR LES LAGUNES (Lamento) Ma belle amie est morte, Je pleurerai toujours; Sous la tombe elle emporte Mon âme et mes amours. Dans le ciel, sans m'attendre, Elle s'en retourna; L'ange qui l'emmena Ne voulut pas me prendre. Que mon sort est amer! Ah! sans amour s'en aller sur la mer! La blanche créature Est couchée au cercueil; Comme dans la nature Tout me paraît en deuil! La colombe oubliée Pleure et songe à l'absent: Mon âme pleure et sent Qu'elle est dépareillée. Que mon sort est amer! Ah! sans amour s'en aller sur la mer! Sur moi la nuit immense S'étend comme un linceul. Je chante ma romance Que le ciel entend seul, Ah! comme elle était belle, Et comme je l'aimais! Je n'aimerai jamais Une femme autant qu'elle. Que mon sort est amer! Ah! sans amour s'en aller sur la mer! IV ABSENCE Reviens, reviens, ma bien aimée! Comme une fleur loin du soleil, La fleur de ma vie est fermée Loin de ton sourire vermeil. Entre nos coeurs quelle distance! Tant d'espace entre nos baisers! O sort amer! ô dure absence! O grands désirs inapaisés! D'ici là-bas que de campagnes, Que de villes et de hameaux, Que de vallons et de montagnes, A lasser le pied des chevaux! V AU CIMETIÈRE (Clair de lune) Connaissez-vous la blanche tombe, Où flotte avec un son plaintif L'ombre d'un if? Sur l'if une pâle colombe, Triste et seule au soleil couchant, Chante son chant: Un air maladivement tendre A la fois charmant et fatal, Qui vous fait mal Et qu'on voudrait toujours entendre; Un air comme en soupire aux cieux L'ange amoureux. On dirait que l'âme éveillée Pleure sous terre à l'unisson De la chanson, Et du malheur d'être oubliée Se plaint dans un roucoulement Bien doucement. Sur les ailes de la musique On sent lentement revenir Un souvenir. Une ombre, une forme angélique, Passe dans un rayon tremblant, En voile blanc. Les belles-de-nuit demi-closes Jettent leur parfum faible et doux Autour de vous, Et le fantôme aux molles poses Murmure en vous tendant les bras: Tu reviendras! Oh! jamais plus près de la tombe, Je n'irai, quand descend le soir Au manteau noir, Ecouter la pâle colombe Chanter sur la pointe de l'if Son chant plaintif.
VI L'ILE INCONNUE Dites, la jeune belle, Où voulez-vous aller? La voile enfle son aile, La brise va souffler. L'aviron est d'ivoire, Le pavillon de moire, Le gouvernail d'or fin; J'ai pour leste une orange, Pour voile une aile d'ange, Pour mousse un séraphin. Est-ce dans la Baltique? Dans la mer Pacifique? Dans l'île de Java? Ou bien est-ce en Norvège, Cueillir la fleur de neige, Ou la fleur d'Angsoka? Dites, dites, la jeune belle, Dites, où voulez-vous aller? Menez-moi, dit la belle, A la rive fidèle Où l'on aime toujours! Cette rive, ma chère, On ne la connaît guère, Au pays des amours. Où voulez-vous aller? La brise va souffler. 🔊 FOLLOW US on SPOTIFY (Profil: CMRR) : spoti.fi/3016eVr 🔊 Download CMRR's recordings in High fidelity audio (QOBUZ) : bit.ly/370zcMg ❤ If you like CM//RR content, please consider membership at our Patreon page. Thank you :) www.patreon.com/cmrr
SUMMER NIGHTS, Op.7 I VILLANELLE When the new season comes, when the cold has gone, the two of us will go, my love, to pick lily of the valley in the woods. Scattering beneath our feet the pearls of dew that tremble in the morning, we shall go and listen to the blackbirds sing. Spring has come, my love; it is the season lovers bless; and the bird, smoothing his wing, sings verses on the edge of his nest. Oh! Come to this mossy bank to talk of our love. And tell me in your sweet voice: "Forever. " Straying far, very far from our path, startling the rabbit from his hiding-place, and the buck, admiring his great antlers reflected in the stream; then, quite happy and at ease, we will come back home, our fingers entwined - in our baskets wild strawberries! II THE SPECTRE OF THE ROSE Open your eyelids, brushed by a virginal dream. I am the spectre of a rose, that you wore yesterday at the ball. You took me, still bedewed, with silvery tears from being watered, and among the glittering festivities you carried me with you all the evening. O you, cause of my death, you will not be able to banish me, the roseate spectre coming to dance each night by your pillow; but do not be afraid, I demand no mass or De profundis. This delicate perfume is my soul, and I come from paradise. My destiny was enviable, and for such a beautiful fate many would have given their lives; for my tomb is on your breast, and on the alabaster where I lie a poet, with a kiss, wrote: "Here lies a rose which every king will envy. "
III ON THE LAGOONS (Lamento) My loved one is dead, I shall weep forever; into the grave she has taken my soul and my love. She returned to heaven without waiting for me; the angel who took her away did not wish to take me. How bitter is my fate! Ah! to go loveless to sea! The pale beauty is lying in her coffin; everything in nature seems to me to be in mourning! The forsaken dove weeps and thinks of her missing mate: my soul weeps and feels deprived of a companion. How bitter is my fate! Ah! to go loveless to sea! Over me the immense night is spread like shroud. I sing my song, which only the heavens hear. Ah! How beautiful she was, and how I loved her! I shall never love any woman as I loved her. How bitter is my fate! Ah! to go loveless to sea! IV ABSENCE Come back, come back, my beloved! Like a flower far from the sun the flower of my life has closed far from your glowing smile. Such a distance between our hearts! So much space between our kisses! O bitter fate! O harsh absence! O great unassuaged desires! So much open country between here and there, so many towns and hamlets, so many vales and mountains - enough to tire the horses' stride! V AT THE CEMETERY (Moonlight) Do you know the white tomb, where the shadow of a yew floats plaintively? On the yew a pale dove, sad and alone at sunset, sings its song: A tune of morbid sweetness both charming and deathly, which hurts you
and which you would wish to hear forever; a tune which may be sighed in heaven by a lovesick angel. You would say that the awakened soul was weeping beneath the earth together with the song, was cooing in gentle complaint at being forgotten. On the wings of music you feel a memory coming back slowly. A shadow, an angelic form, passes in a shimmering beam, veiled in white. The night-flowers, half open, exude their delicate, sweet perfume around you, and the ghost with its languid gestures murmurs, reaching out to you: You will return! Oh! Never again will I go near the tomb, when the evening is spreading its black cloak, to listen to the pale dove at the top of yew sing its plaintive song.
VI THE UNKNOWN ISLAND Tell me, my pretty girl, where do you want to go? The sail spreads its wings, the breeze is rising. The oar is ivory, the pennant is of watered silk, the helm of fine gold; I have an orange for ballast, for the sail, an angel's wing, for cabin boy, a seraph. Is it to the Baltic, or to the Pacific Ocean? To the island of Java? Or is it to Norway, to pick the snow flower, or the Angsoka flower? Tell me, tell me, my pretty girl, tell me, where do you want to go? "Take me," she said, "to the shore of fidelity where love lasts forever!" That shore, my darling, is hardly known in the land of love. Where do you want to go? The breeze is rising. 🔊 FOLLOW US on SPOTIFY (Profil: CMRR) : spoti.fi/3016eVr 🔊 Download CMRR's recordings in High fidelity audio (QOBUZ) : bit.ly/370zcMg ❤ If you like CM//RR content, please consider membership at our Patreon page. Thank you :) www.patreon.com/cmrr
I just listened to this recording and a recording of the Mahler back to back, and I think you are onto something. I see an influence, or at least I think Mahler had to be familiar with the Berlioz and at least subconsciously influenced by it. Both works are excellent.
The added artificial reverb really kills this recording. The original ambience may be dry, but it's better than a swimming pool effect. This is a botched remastering job.
Hector Berlioz (1803-1869): Les Nuits d’été Op. 7 par Suzanne Danco.
🎧 Qobuz bit.ly/3AVeA1b Tidal bit.ly/3FWlXZY
🎧 Spotify spoti.fi/3vtM5GS UA-cam Music bit.ly/2Z5o5O0
🎧 Apple Music apple.co/3lX5q01 Amazon Music amzn.to/3AZ2iVq
🎧 Deezer bit.ly/3CaVKV6 Soundcloud bit.ly/3kkijjD
🎧 Napster bit.ly/3FuGrsf Awa日本 mf.awa.fm/3pikPdi
🎧 LineMusic日本 bit.ly/3vuMVDp QQ音乐 bit.ly/3EYQvZT
Click to activate the English subtitles for the presentation (00:00-00:42)
00:00 Les Nuits d’Été Op. 7 - Vilanelle
02:17 Les Nuits d’Été Op. 7 - Le Spectre de la Rose
08:14 Les Nuits d’Été Op. 7 - Sur les Lagunes (Lamento)
15:17 Les Nuits d’Été Op. 7 - Absence
20:20 Les Nuits d’Été Op. 7 - Au Cimetière (Clair de Lune)
24:58 Les Nuits d’Été Op. 7 - L’île inconnue
Soprano: Suzanne Danco
Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra
Conductor: Thor Johnson
Recorded in 1951, at Cincinnati
New mastering in 2021 by AB for CMRR
🔊 FOLLOW US on SPOTIFY (Profil: CMRR) : spoti.fi/3016eVr
🔊 Download CMRR's recordings in High fidelity audio (QOBUZ) : bit.ly/370zcMg
❤ If you like CM//RR content, please consider membership at our Patreon page.
Thank you :) www.patreon.com/cmrr
Berlioz's collection Les Nuits d'été, settings of six poems by Théophile Gautier, was published in 1841 for voice and piano.
The orchestral versions, prepared over the following fifteen years, enhanced the beauty of the songs and pioneered a new form: the song-cycle with orchestral accompaniment. The variety of these songs, the way they complement one another and their superb craftsmanship make them eminently modern and forward-looking, one of the composer's most important contributions to French music.
Berlioz - Requiem, Grande Messe des Morts Op.5 / NEW MASTERING (Ct.rec.: Dimitri Mitropoulos 1956): ua-cam.com/video/9T131BY2Vxs/v-deo.html
Hector Berlioz PLAYLIST (references recordings): ua-cam.com/video/dX7PBMDX06k/v-deo.html
Stunningly beautiful! The clarity of diction; the sensitive accompaniment; and the sheer beauty of Danco's voice and her vocal range, all make for a top-drawer performance! Thank you!
Thank you for the gift of beauty!!! Bravissimo!!! 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹👏👏👏
LES NUITS D'ÉTÉ, Op.7
I VILLANELLE
Quand viendra la saison nouvelle,
Quand auront disparu les froids,
Tous les deux nous irons, ma belle,
Pour cueillir les muguets au bois.
Sous nos pieds égrenant les perles
Que l'on voit au matin trembler,
Nous irons écouter les merles Siffler.
Le printemps est venu, ma belle;
C'est le mois des amants béni;
Et l'oiseau, satinant son aile,
Dit des vers au rebord du nid.
Oh! Viens donc sur ce banc de mousse
Pour parler de nos beaux amours.
Et dis-moi de ta voix si douce:
Toujours.
Loin, bien loin égarant nos courses,
Faisant fuir le lapin caché,
Et le daim, au miroir des sources
Admirant son grand bois penché;
Puis, chez nous, tout heureux, tout aises,
En paniers, enlaçant nos doigts
Revenons, rapportant des fraises
Des bois!
II LE SPECTRE DE LA ROSE
Soulève ta paupière close,
Qu'effleure un songe virginal!
Je suis le spectre d'une rose,
Que tu portais hier au bal.
Tu me pris encore emperlée
Des pleurs d'argent de l'arrosoir,
Et parmi la fête étoilée,
Tu me promenas tout le soir.
O toi, qui de ma mort fus cause,
Sans que tu puisses le chasser,
Toutes les nuits mon spectre rose
A ton chevet viendra danser;
Mais ne crains rien, je ne réclame
Ni messe ni De profundis.
Ce léger parfum est mon âme,
Et j'arrive du paradis.
Mon destin fut digne d'envie,
Et pour avoir un sort si beau
Plus d'un aurait donné sa vie;
Car sur ton sein j'ai mon tombeau,
Et sur l'albâtre où je repose
Un poète avec un baiser
Ecrivit: "Ci-gît une rose,
Que tous les rois vont jalouser."
III SUR LES LAGUNES (Lamento)
Ma belle amie est morte,
Je pleurerai toujours;
Sous la tombe elle emporte
Mon âme et mes amours.
Dans le ciel, sans m'attendre,
Elle s'en retourna;
L'ange qui l'emmena
Ne voulut pas me prendre.
Que mon sort est amer!
Ah! sans amour s'en aller sur la mer!
La blanche créature
Est couchée au cercueil;
Comme dans la nature
Tout me paraît en deuil!
La colombe oubliée
Pleure et songe à l'absent:
Mon âme pleure et sent
Qu'elle est dépareillée.
Que mon sort est amer!
Ah! sans amour s'en aller sur la mer!
Sur moi la nuit immense
S'étend comme un linceul.
Je chante ma romance
Que le ciel entend seul,
Ah! comme elle était belle,
Et comme je l'aimais!
Je n'aimerai jamais
Une femme autant qu'elle.
Que mon sort est amer!
Ah! sans amour s'en aller sur la mer!
IV ABSENCE
Reviens, reviens, ma bien aimée!
Comme une fleur loin du soleil,
La fleur de ma vie est fermée
Loin de ton sourire vermeil.
Entre nos coeurs quelle distance!
Tant d'espace entre nos baisers!
O sort amer! ô dure absence!
O grands désirs inapaisés!
D'ici là-bas que de campagnes,
Que de villes et de hameaux,
Que de vallons et de montagnes,
A lasser le pied des chevaux!
V AU CIMETIÈRE (Clair de lune)
Connaissez-vous la blanche tombe,
Où flotte avec un son plaintif
L'ombre d'un if?
Sur l'if une pâle colombe,
Triste et seule au soleil couchant,
Chante son chant:
Un air maladivement tendre
A la fois charmant et fatal,
Qui vous fait mal
Et qu'on voudrait toujours entendre;
Un air comme en soupire aux cieux
L'ange amoureux.
On dirait que l'âme éveillée
Pleure sous terre à l'unisson
De la chanson,
Et du malheur d'être oubliée
Se plaint dans un roucoulement
Bien doucement.
Sur les ailes de la musique
On sent lentement revenir
Un souvenir.
Une ombre, une forme angélique,
Passe dans un rayon tremblant,
En voile blanc.
Les belles-de-nuit demi-closes
Jettent leur parfum faible et doux
Autour de vous,
Et le fantôme aux molles poses
Murmure en vous tendant les bras:
Tu reviendras!
Oh! jamais plus près de la tombe,
Je n'irai, quand descend le soir
Au manteau noir,
Ecouter la pâle colombe
Chanter sur la pointe de l'if
Son chant plaintif.
VI L'ILE INCONNUE
Dites, la jeune belle,
Où voulez-vous aller?
La voile enfle son aile,
La brise va souffler.
L'aviron est d'ivoire,
Le pavillon de moire,
Le gouvernail d'or fin;
J'ai pour leste une orange,
Pour voile une aile d'ange,
Pour mousse un séraphin.
Est-ce dans la Baltique?
Dans la mer Pacifique?
Dans l'île de Java?
Ou bien est-ce en Norvège,
Cueillir la fleur de neige,
Ou la fleur d'Angsoka?
Dites, dites, la jeune belle,
Dites, où voulez-vous aller?
Menez-moi, dit la belle,
A la rive fidèle
Où l'on aime toujours!
Cette rive, ma chère,
On ne la connaît guère,
Au pays des amours.
Où voulez-vous aller?
La brise va souffler.
🔊 FOLLOW US on SPOTIFY (Profil: CMRR) : spoti.fi/3016eVr
🔊 Download CMRR's recordings in High fidelity audio (QOBUZ) : bit.ly/370zcMg
❤ If you like CM//RR content, please consider membership at our Patreon page.
Thank you :) www.patreon.com/cmrr
I love this recording - she really feels love's loss in L'absence - sung with great passion and vulnerability
🕊🌟🕊
ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL
🙏💜🙏
💜🎵💜
One of my favorite singers on record.
SUMMER NIGHTS, Op.7
I VILLANELLE
When the new season comes,
when the cold has gone,
the two of us will go, my love,
to pick lily of the valley in the woods.
Scattering beneath our feet the pearls of dew
that tremble in the morning,
we shall go and listen to the blackbirds sing.
Spring has come, my love;
it is the season lovers bless;
and the bird, smoothing his wing,
sings verses on the edge of his nest.
Oh! Come to this mossy bank
to talk of our love.
And tell me in your sweet voice:
"Forever. "
Straying far, very far from our path,
startling the rabbit from his hiding-place,
and the buck, admiring his great antlers
reflected in the stream;
then, quite happy and at ease,
we will come back home, our fingers
entwined -
in our baskets
wild strawberries!
II THE SPECTRE OF THE ROSE
Open your eyelids,
brushed by a virginal dream.
I am the spectre of a rose,
that you wore yesterday at the ball.
You took me, still bedewed,
with silvery tears from being watered,
and among the glittering festivities
you carried me with you all the evening.
O you, cause of my death,
you will not be able to banish me,
the roseate spectre coming to dance each
night by your pillow;
but do not be afraid,
I demand no mass or De profundis.
This delicate perfume is my soul,
and I come from paradise.
My destiny was enviable,
and for such a beautiful fate
many would have given their lives;
for my tomb is on your breast,
and on the alabaster where I lie
a poet, with a kiss,
wrote: "Here lies a rose
which every king will envy. "
III ON THE LAGOONS (Lamento)
My loved one is dead,
I shall weep forever;
into the grave she has taken
my soul and my love.
She returned to heaven without waiting for me;
the angel who took her away did not wish to take me.
How bitter is my fate!
Ah! to go loveless to sea!
The pale beauty
is lying in her coffin;
everything in nature
seems to me to be in mourning!
The forsaken dove
weeps and thinks of her missing mate:
my soul weeps and feels
deprived of a companion.
How bitter is my fate!
Ah! to go loveless to sea!
Over me the immense night
is spread like shroud.
I sing my song,
which only the heavens hear.
Ah! How beautiful she was,
and how I loved her!
I shall never love any woman
as I loved her.
How bitter is my fate!
Ah! to go loveless to sea!
IV ABSENCE
Come back, come back, my beloved!
Like a flower far from the sun
the flower of my life has closed
far from your glowing smile.
Such a distance between our hearts!
So much space between our kisses!
O bitter fate! O harsh absence!
O great unassuaged desires!
So much open country between here and
there,
so many towns and hamlets,
so many vales and mountains -
enough to tire the horses' stride!
V AT THE CEMETERY (Moonlight)
Do you know the white tomb,
where the shadow of a yew floats
plaintively?
On the yew a pale dove,
sad and alone at sunset,
sings its song:
A tune of morbid sweetness
both charming and deathly,
which hurts you
and which you would wish to hear forever;
a tune which may be sighed in heaven by
a lovesick angel.
You would say that the awakened soul
was weeping beneath the earth together
with the song,
was cooing in gentle complaint
at being forgotten.
On the wings of music
you feel a memory coming back
slowly.
A shadow, an angelic form,
passes in a shimmering beam,
veiled in white.
The night-flowers, half open,
exude their delicate, sweet perfume
around you,
and the ghost with its languid gestures
murmurs, reaching out to you:
You will return!
Oh! Never again will I go near the tomb,
when the evening is spreading
its black cloak,
to listen to the pale dove
at the top of yew sing
its plaintive song.
VI THE UNKNOWN ISLAND
Tell me, my pretty girl,
where do you want to go?
The sail spreads its wings,
the breeze is rising.
The oar is ivory,
the pennant is of watered silk,
the helm of fine gold;
I have an orange for ballast,
for the sail, an angel's wing,
for cabin boy, a seraph.
Is it to the Baltic,
or to the Pacific Ocean?
To the island of Java?
Or is it to Norway,
to pick the snow flower,
or the Angsoka flower?
Tell me, tell me, my pretty girl,
tell me, where do you want to go?
"Take me," she said,
"to the shore of fidelity
where love lasts forever!"
That shore, my darling,
is hardly known
in the land of love.
Where do you want to go?
The breeze is rising.
🔊 FOLLOW US on SPOTIFY (Profil: CMRR) : spoti.fi/3016eVr
🔊 Download CMRR's recordings in High fidelity audio (QOBUZ) : bit.ly/370zcMg
❤ If you like CM//RR content, please consider membership at our Patreon page.
Thank you :) www.patreon.com/cmrr
TY
Magic
Wonderful music, I wonder if Mahler was thinking of any of these songs when he was writing Das Lied von der Erde...
I just listened to this recording and a recording of the Mahler back to back, and I think you are onto something. I see an influence, or at least I think Mahler had to be familiar with the Berlioz and at least subconsciously influenced by it. Both works are excellent.
Gostei.
Amazing!
👌👏🎼🎶🤝🖖
The added artificial reverb really kills this recording. The original ambience may be dry, but it's better than a swimming pool effect. This is a botched remastering job.