Don Satz refers to a Fanfare review of the Solere Clarinet Concertos on Orfeo. As the Fanfare reviewer in question, I plead guilty to enthusiasm and offer my review as corroborative evidence: SOLERE Concerto for Two Clarinets in E-flat*. Clarinet Concerto in E-flat. Concerto Espagnol - Dieter Klocker, Sandra Arnold* (cls); Milan Lajcik, cond; Prague CO - ORFEO C 481 991 A (64:34) If you haven't heard of Pedro Etienne Solere (1753-1817), don't worry: I hadn't either, though I spend large chunks of my life grubbing round obscure places where there might be interesting music to be discovered. So imagine my astonished pleasure when I discover that this composer-who-is-not-even-a-name-to-me wrote music that, quite literally, made me shiver with delight. First things first, though; I'll give you the score-sheet later. Solere (not Soler, though who knows, he may have been a relation of Antonio or Vicente Martin y Soler) was born in 1753 near the French border with Spain, moving to Paris as a young man, where his clarinet playing gained him establishment favor. He traveled widely as a virtuoso before being appointed professor of clarinet when the Paris Conservatoire was founded. And he was obviously a natural writer for his instrument when he sat down with a pen: A competent command of structure and of scoring meant that he could prepare the orchestra as a canvas over which to lay the foreground of his instrument. The E-flat Concerto for solo clarinet seems to have been composed largely by one Joseph Ignaz Schnabel (1767--1831), with Solere enlivening the solo part, although the division of labor is not entirely clear. Whatever the truth of it, it's enchanting--spontaneous, clear-cut, melodically immediate, charming. The two-clarinet concerto is something else. Once upon a time, when I was a fifteen-year-old on a school trip to Switzerland, I was ensconced with a few spotty coevals on a train (I can't remember where we were going but it must have been important) when a group of Swiss soldiers climbed on board. These chaps were big mothers and we schoolboys gulped and sat back against our seats. But when the soldiers sat down, they began to sing, to yodel, for the entire length of our journey, so wonderfully that it was only the fear of abandonment that got me off the train. I hadn't thought about that journey for nearly three decades--until I played this disc. The two-clarinet concerto opens the CD, and I didn't know what to expect of this unknown Solere--then the yodeling starts! And it really does sound like my dimly remembered Swiss soldiers: Spontaneous counterpoint, involved textures that nonetheless have nothing of the academic about them at all--with the same sense of exhilarated surprise that leaves me gurgling with pleasure. Not only that: The sound of two clarinets out on a caper is like nothing else--it thrills and tickles at the same time. A last word about the Concerto Espagnol: expansive first movement, slow-movement Romanza with a juicy drone in the trio--and, ear-jerkingly, a percussion-fizzed fandango as a closing movement. Dieter Klocker plays with liquid suavity in all three works, joined in elegant loquacity in the double concerto by Sandra Arnold, the whole brightly accompanied by the Prague Chamber Orchestra. The clarinet tone in these recordings is so faithfully reproduced that you feel like sliding down it. I promised a score-sheet: 5/10 on the harmony, which is pretty conventional, but straight gold stars on everything else. This is a wonderful recording, and you will feel much the better for listening to it. Indeed, if you're looking for an unusual Christmas card, buy a stock of them and make all your friends as happy as you will be. You want one word to buttonhole this disc? Easy: Magical. Martin Anderson Toccata Press http://www.classical.net/music/books/toccata/