The sincerity and at the same time emotionality of Anton Bruckner's musical thoughts create an inimitable magnetism that makes one "forget" time in the very best sense of the word. Anyone who wants to approach Bruckner only analytically will find their mind boggled, especially at the first encounter. His great power is a certain "transcendental charm" that is common to all his symphonies.

"Janárceková's intellectually unpretentious expressionist music never runs the risk of becoming cliche-infected: her will to express herself and her awareness of fragmentariness combine in a subtle sensuality of sound. At every moment the music seems to be 'appropriate': far removed from triviality, and away from fashionable contemplative platitudes." (Dirk Wieschollek) The Slovak Quasars ensemble's conductor Ivan Buffa also doubles as the piano soloist with the Bamberg Symphony in the piano concerto of Viera Janárceková, who surely must be counted as one of the most distinguished female voices in today's European composition landscape.

Star oboist Albrecht Mayer was praised by the press for his successful Baroque album »Tesori d'Italia«: »What makes Albrecht Mayer's musical treasures, tonal beauty and technical mastery so precious in these five treasures, is hard to beat.« (FonoForum). Now he presents his new recording Longing for Paradise, recorded with the Bamberger Symphoniker.

Stravinsky, Bartók and Martinů were established international figures when they wrote these works for violin, travelling across Europe as well as the United States. With the onset of World War Two, all three composers would ultimately emigrate because of their rejection of fascism. In an age of political upheaval and cultural displacement, each of them found an individual approach to reinventing the language of tonal music, laying down roots in the west without abandoning their Eastern European identities. While the Russian-born Stravinsky was experimenting with possibilities of modern violin technique in his concerto, Martinů took these efforts a step further in his Suite concertante by blending the sounds of his native Bohemia with the colours of French neo-classicism. In the Rhapsodies, Bartók turned to the folk music of Hungary and Romania.

osé Serebrier's distinctive conceptions and nimble conducting imbue the familiar Marche slave, Capriccio italien, and 1812 Overture with a freshness that belies their long-held "warhorse" status. By employing lighter sonorities and crystal-clear balances (all rendered with spectacular fidelity and dynamism by BIS's remarkably vivid recording) that expose Tchaikovsky's gorgeous woodwind writing and inner harmonic detail, Serebrier brings a vibrant youthful quality even to the overplayed 1812. Listen to how the bracing opening, with its cleanly phrased, rhythmically taut string playing fosters ever-increasing tension. Later, in the grand coda, the dramatic brass-and-strings interplay genuinely excites while cannons roar away in the distance (the opposite approach to Telarc's cannon-down-your-throat technique).

The symphonies of Arvo Pärt will surprise anyone familiar with his contemplative, mature style. Pärt began life as a member of the Eastern European modern school, not so far removed from contemporaries such as Penderecki and Górecki. His three symphonies show his gradual renunciation of the more radical aspects of his musical syntax, a return to emotional directness, and the beginnings of that otherworldly quality that has become the outstanding feature of his later work. Not all listeners have traveled the path with him, some finding his recent music tedious and pretentious rather than spiritual, and these three relatively early symphonies really do add a welcome depth and roundness of profile to a composer who can all too easily seem one-dimensional. It's important to keep in mind that, unlike so many members of today's pseudospiritual school of composers (England's John Tavener being the prime example), Pärt is a real composer operating even in the most mystical musings. Järvi deserves real credit for calling attention to this fact in such a powerful way.

The Bamberger Symphoniker and Jakub Hrůša’s cycle of the four Brahms symphonies and Dvořák’s last four symphonies is the first recording to give an overview of their extraordinary universe and cast light on their musical affinity, in a vivid soundscape with a contemporary pulse.

The Bamberger Symphoniker's collaboration with Tudor has evolved in cycles. It began with Joachim Raff's œuvre, a pioneering step into overlooked repertoire. Then stepped up to the Greats with Schubert's symphonies: the first recording to follow the new Schubert edition was enthusiastically hailed as a refreshing new departure interpreted with historical awareness. Reaching for the stars under the aegis of Jonathan Nott, the scores of Gustav Mahler then entered the Bamberg Konzerthalle. That whole cycle has won countless prizes and awards, becoming a milestone of Mahler discography. The next step? Staying in Vienna with symphonies by Johannes Brahms while remaining true to Gustav Mahler's Bohemian homeland with Antonín Dvorák.

The Bamberger Symphoniker and Jakub Hrůša’s cycle of the four Brahms symphonies and Dvořák’s last four symphonies is the first recording to give an overview of their extraordinary universe and cast light on their musical affinity, in a vivid soundscape with a contemporary pulse.

This long-term edition of symphonies by Johannes Brahms and Antonín Dvořák, performed by the Bamberger Symphoniker led by their chief conductor Jakub Hrůša, springs from a wish to stimulate a deliberate, interiorized and unbiased listening experience. Associating these two Romantic geniuses, bound by a unique friendship, in one edition enables a new viewpoint. It immediately becomes apparent that the two last symphonies of Brahms and Dvořák have more than their key in common - yet this also illuminates their differences.

Call it postminimalist, totalist, or maximalist, the orchestral music of Bang on a Can co-founder Michael Gordon is big, loud, frenzied, and assertive, jam-packed with stylistic references, dense with inventive orchestration, and overflowing with virtuoso activity. Dystopia, performed by David Robertson and the Los Angeles Philharmonic, is a kaleidoscopic portrait of the city of Los Angeles, created in collaboration with filmmaker Bill Morrison. This live recording of the work's premiere at the Walt Disney Concert Hall, January 12, 2008, captures the energy and spontaneity of the music, which at times is quite reminiscent of the hubbub of the Shrovetide Fair in Stravinsky's Petrushka, though one must imagine that the listening experience with the film was overwhelming. In contrast, Rewriting Beethoven's Seventh Symphony is not so much a wall of sound as a multi-layered gloss on its original material, an echo of Beethoven's music warped and reshaped through glissandi, microtones, clusters, montage, and other modern techniques.

Fortune dealt Hans Rott a cruel hand. The Austrian composer, born in Vienna in 1858, struggled as a freelance musician and died at the age of twenty-five soon after succumbing to mental illness. Rott’s name lives on thanks to his Symphony No. 1 in E major and receives top billing in a new recording of the work by the Bamberger Symphoniker and its Chief Conductor Jakub Hrůša. They complete their programme with the Symphonic Prelude by Rott’s organ teacher Anton Bruckner and “Blumine” by his friend and fellow Vienna Conservatory student Gustav Mahler.

Max Bruch has never made things easy for fond listeners or performers of music; his contemporaries found him hard to handle, and so have later generations. The reason behind this has nothing to do with the superlative, worldwide renown of the first of his violin concertos, or with his musical language, which had already fallen out of fashion when he died exactly a hundred years ago. Instead, Bruch himself much too quickly and all too often lost his faith in his "musical progeny" because he did not have the patience to let them mature in peace and to secure a place in the broader public consciousness. This applies to the opera Die Loreley, which offers a rewarding listening experience, as well as to his three symphonies composed between 1868 and 1882 and originally intended as a series of works forming a trilogy.

This disc combines Hartmann's Symphony No. 1 (1937/1948), a requiem for the victims of the Nazis and the dead of World War II, using Walt Whitman's verses from "Leaves of Grass" written for the dead of the Civil War and a soprano singer, with anti-war pieces by Arnold Schoenberg, Bouslav Martinu, and Luigi Nono.