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I have that recording, too. Technically it is couple steps down from Leslie Howard. You can hear the effort.

The recording does include some nice smaller pieces of Rubinstein that you don't hear very often, but in the familiar Rêve Angélique he makes a glaring error that should never have made it into the final edit. Not sure what the story is with that.

He has also recorded nine (!) volumes of the piano works of Bortkiewicz, if you're into that sort of thing,

I have the van Paassen. It's OK, but it has the enormous disadvantage of having been given a single track for the entire 40 minutes or so of the sonata. I have no idea what they were thinking of at Attacca when they did that.  It does, however, have the only recording I know of Rubinstein's nearly 24 minute Yankee Doodle Variations.

I think the sound on the Howard is just fine; 1981 was hardly the era of Edison cylinders.  I recently listened to Reiner's 1955 "Living Stereo" recording of the Bartok Concerto for Orchestra and I was amazed at the clarity and and vividness of the sound.

is "Hamilton Hardly" autoincorrect being given its head or a critical commentary?

It appears that another thing upon which you may be relied, in addition to your admirable command of sources, is your close reading of a text.

I assure you, that was no intentional slight upon Mr. Hardy. Rather, it was another example of the evils of AI AutoCorrect during dictation. How many times have you dictated something, seeing the words transcribed correctly into the text box, only to find after hitting the send button that half those words have been changed to utter absurdities after they passed out of view as you continued dictating the paragraph? I know it's just bad code, but part of me wants to believe it's intentional.

I wish I were clever enough to come up with a put down like "Hamilton Hardly", but no, credit must go to Siri or some other projection from Borges's circular ruins.

Good call!

Is there a way to change the title of the post?

The moderators (Ilja, Mark) can edit the title.

[Done. Mark]

[1. Max Reger: Die Nonnen, Op. 112]

Just as with the other categories, no sooner had I come up with three contenders than I began remembering others.

There are no operas in my list because all my potential nominations have had at least two recordings and are starting to enter the fringes of the repertory, albeit mostly in Europe.  The same is true for some of the oratorios and cantatas that came to mind.  Instead, I'd like to extend a hand to things that could use all the help they can get.

1. Max Reger: Die Nonnen, Op. 112

I approached Reger's 1909 cantata for mixed chorus and orchestra, a setting of a poem by Martin Boelitz, with little enthusiasm, expecting him at his most meanderingly chromatic.  But no, this is more akin to the Romantic Reger of the Sinfonietta, Op. 90, or the Serenade, Op. 95.  Indeed, this is the Reger of French Impressionism, so much so that you might mistake it for the early Debussy of La Damoiselle Elue.  Just bathe in the delicate atmosphere of the orchestral introduction -- was that a faun that I saw?  And then the ethereal entry of the chorus...just gorgeous.  And so on, right to the end.  I didn't think he had stuff like this in him.  Would that more of his work were like this, but one example of his potential will have to suffice.


2. Robert Russell Bennett: The Fun and Faith of William Billings, American

The approaching Semiquincentennial of the United States brings this neglected occasional piece to mind.  Completed in 1976 on a commission from the National Symphony for the American Bicentennial, Bennett's cantata for mixed chorus and orchestra adapts several hymns by the early American composer William Billings (1746-1800).  From this raw material, Bennett -- developing the hymns, adding orchestral interludes, and through superb orchestration and choral writing -- fashions a 30-minute festival piece that exactly lives up to its title: a genuinely fun, high-spirited, surprise-filled work that celebrates Billing's faith in God and the future of his new country.


3. Heinrich von Herzogenberg: "Der Vogel Abschied", Op. 91, No. 6

Lieder seems to be a niche interest, but I could not let this deeply touching, heartfelt work go unmentioned.  The last of the six Elegiac Songs, Op. 91 that he composed following the death of his wife Elizabeth, this song for high voice is a setting of a poem by Eichendorff in which the birds of the forest say farewell to their homes as they prepare to migrate south before winter sets in.  They console the forest that the mountains and stars will stand watch during the long, dark sleep of winter, but that in the spring they -- and new life -- will rise again.  This allegory of resurrection is set to one of Herzogenberg's most inspired creations, which captures the sense of motion of departure, the pain of separation, and the consolation of future happiness.  It's a real gem.

Well, I think there's little danger of this version supplanting Chopin's original in any case...

Don't count Scharwenka out quite so easily.  You never know.  As I mentioned, Leonard Rose's "Introduction and Polonaise Brillante" has almost completely supplanted Chopin's original.  Chopin's minimal orchestration has been the target of tinkering for years, and it was never more minimal than in his Op. 22, so much so that many pianists just play the 1838 revision, which dispenses with the orchestra altogether.  It's clear Chopin's heart was not in the project as far as the orchestra was concerned -- he never wrote for the orchestra again, issuing the first movement of the abortive 3rd Concerto as a solo piece, and arguably his least loved at that -- so Scharwenka is not to be too faulted for trying to fix what he saw as a deficiency. 

It was just what they did in those days.  When Mendelssohn revived Bach's oratorios, he did so providing them with new Romantic orchestrations, and I am old enough to remember when Handel was performed using Hamilton Hardly's grand modern orchestrations.

No one would dare do this today, but the spectre of Chopin a la Rose makes me think Scharwenka just might have a chance.

The Leo Baeck Institute at the Center for Jewish History has 4 boxes of papers stored on six reels of microfilm, more than what you indicated.  You'd probably need to examine this in person.

https://archives.cjh.org/repositories/5/resources/19269

I wouldn't call it a mustache, as there is no Duchampian intention of knocking the work down a few pegs. Rather, it's just another attempt at improvement, however unnecessary. Think of it more like a bit of eyeliner, some lipstick, and just a bit of shadow beneath the cheeks to create a greater sense of definition.  Oh, and that hair...oh dear...let's try for a bit more body, darling.

One of the problems with these "improvements" is that sometimes they actually replace the original work. For example, we almost never hear this composers's "Introduction and Polonaise Brillante" in its original form. Rather, it is almost always performed in the arrangement by Leonard Rose, in which the cello part is greatly enhanced and a number of cuts are made. On YouTube, most of the performances of Schumann's "Fantasie in C, Op. 131" are in the recomposed version by Fritz Kreisler.  In both cases, the originals are much to be preferred.  And Tchaikovky's "Rococo Variations" was pretty much re-written by Wilhelm Fitzenhagen.  Despite the composer's disgust at the result, he never insisted on his original being restored, so it is Fitzenhagen we hear to this day, with few exceptions.

Has anyone ever heard Mahler's re-orchestrations of the four Schumann symphonies? Even now, 30 years later, I am still shocked that Mahler, a master of the orchestra, could have made such a mess of things. They're dreadful.

Was this also composed for the 1928 Columbia Records (UK, not the US one) Schubert competition?

I don't follow your question. It was my understanding that there was one international competition, broken up into geographic regions. There were regional winners, who then went on to the final international selection.

In any case, Weingartner was a member of the artistic advisory committee and therefore was not eligible to enter the competition.  Further, Weingartner discussed the genesis of the symphony in an article in a Swiss journal that appeared in November 1928 in which the composer said that he wanted to honor the Schubert centenary in a less commercial and tacky way than what he saw being done at the time.

Naxos is releasing a new recording of the 3rd and 4th Rubinstein piano sonatas.

https://www.jpc.de/jpcng/classic/detail/-/art/han-chen-rubinstein-klaviersonaten-nr-3-4/hnum/12640267

Han Chen recorded the first two sonatas for Naxos a number of years ago.

I finally released my copy from the shrink-wrapped prison that it's been languishing in since its arrival and treated myself to an operatic matinee, libretto in hand (or, more accurately, on screen).  This is a wonderful release, with excellent performances all around captured in full-bodied but transparent sound.  The orchestral details are clear and the voices are pleasantly integrated into the sound picture without being unnaturally prominent.

Reading the notes I was struck by Raff's awareness of the cost of an operatic production, producing a budget-pleasing work that requires only a minimal cast and recyclable scenery.  The only caveat?  The weak libretto, which, if not much worse than the typical opera buffa, feels as recycled as the scenery Raff conceived.  It's utterly generic, with only the character names changed and new music provided.  I once joked that it would be funny if writers used generic titles in the same way as composers of absolute music (Horror Novel #9, by Stephen King; Naturalist Drama #3, by Henrik Ibsen); here we have what could have been called Raff's Comic Opera #1.

The weak libretto, however, is something shared by many an opera, so it's the sort of defect we almost take for granted.  Raff, to his credit, has clothed it with delightful music and Naxos has given it to us in excellent performances with great sound.  It's a winner.

[Niels Gade: In the Highlands, Op. 7]

I thought this would be an easy one, but now I see I need to exclude some great contenders.  Curiously, with respect to the plight of short concertante works, even celebrated composers might qualify, since even their short concertante pieces (think Schumann, Mendelssohn, Dvorak) are ignored in the concert hall, if not on record.  But let's stick to our unsung friends, who need advocacy all the more. 

Niels Gade: In the Highlands, Op. 7 -- I have sometimes seen Scottish-themed concert programs that open with Mendelssohn (The Hebrides) and close with Mendelssohn, too (Third Symphony).  Here, then, is a chance to give The Hebrides a much-needed rest.  Gade's early overture is chock-full with Romantic atmosphere but doesn't lay on the Scottishness too thickly.  He waits until the spirited end to turn up the dial on the Scottish snap, an ending sure to rouse the spirits of the audience.  And what marvelous orchestration!  The horn calls in the transition to the development section are the very definition of Romantic.  This is Gade at his best, and a fine introduction to his neglected music.


Erich Korngold: Cello Concerto, Op. 37 -- About 40 years ago Howard M. Ziff, former city desk editor of the Chicago Daily News and later long-time professor of journalism at the University of Massachusetts, hosted a classic movie program on our local public TV station, WGBY in Springfield (MA).  Howard introduced me to Citizen Kane and it was through him that I encountered Irving Rapper's overwrought 1946 melodrama, Deception, starring Bette Davis as a concert pianist, Paul Henreid her love interest, a concert cellist, and Claude Rains as the malicious composer Alexander Hollenius.  Howard, in his introduction, promised us a movie of pure Hollywood: fake story, fake acting, and fake music.  But what fake music!  For it was composed by none other than Erich Korngold.

The shenanigans surrounding the premiere of "Hollenius's" Cello Concerto play a key role in the plot.  We hear only fragments, of course, but behind those fragments lies Korngold's superb 12-minute miniature concerto.  As with many one-movement concertos, Korngold actually designs a compressed but continuous three-movement form.  The thematic material, harmony, and orchestration are everything you would expect from Korngold: exotic, lavish, and pure Hollywood.  What a marvelous ending, too, in the manner it pits the defiant statements of the cello against the declamations of the orchestra.  In the movie, Hollenius laments that Bette Davis's character never played the piano concerto he had written for her, illustrating this by playing a few bars at the piano.  It makes us wish that Korngold had developed that dramatic sounding excerpt into a fully realized work.  He never did.  He also never had to compose the rest of Hollenius's cello concerto beyond the fragments that we hear in the movie.  Luckily, he did, and we are all the richer for it.


Max Bruch: Adagio appassionato for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 57 -- About 50 years ago (now that I am being nostalgic) there was a radio program called "Music at First Hearing".  A panel of critics (I recall Martin Bookspan being a regular) were played newly released LPs, after which they gave their opinion of the recording and the performance.  They were not told ahead of time the identity of the performers so as to avoid any bias in their judgement.  One day they played something for which they not only kept the performers secret, but also the identity of the work itself.  It was the Salvatore Accardo/Kurt Masur/Leipzig Gewandhaus recording of Bruch's Adagio appassionato.  The critics all confessed they were unfamiliar with it, but it made such a positive impression on them that I think it was Bookspan who said the only fault he could find with it was that it was not preceded by a grand first movement and followed by a spirited finale.

And what a beautiful work it is.  To say that it is an adagio by Max Bruch is almost all you need to know.  The thematic material is poetic, the orchestration is transparent, and the writing for the violin perfectly idiomatic.  And there is even a wonderful theme that, strangely, seems to foreshadow Harold Arlen, and which, when it returns near the end and is played in double-stops, will bring a tear to your eye.  Bookspan wished for an entire concerto to surround it, but I think the ending is so ethereally perfect that Bruch was right to leave it as a stand-alone work.
 

...I wouldn't be surprised [if it proves] to be basically the same set of pieces, perhaps also with a bonus of some manner.

Judging by the enthusiasm expressed in this thread, everyone will warmly welcome this bonus Bonis material.

This just appeared from Da Vinci:

https://www.jpc.de/jpcng/classic/detail/-/art/joachim-raff-klavierwerke/hnum/12588478

Although it duplicates a number of things available from the Grand Piano set and the Cahoots disc, a few things (Op. 93, Op. 157) appear to be new to CD.

All men in the Köstritz branch of the Reuss family are named Heinrich, and they're numbered sequentially per century...

Ilja's Peerage and Baronetage to the rescue!  Thanks!