Haydn's two oratorios, The Creation and The Seasons, both written around the turn of the nineteenth century, toward the end of the composer's life, were enormously successful and remain so. Hardly a concert year goes by without several notable performances (and at least one new recording) of both. But of all his oeuvre, most of which I am extremely fond of, these are the two that have always been hardest for me to appreciate. I took on this audition in yet another attempt to crack through the wall and fear I will not have done it any favors by doing so!

The Seasons sounds like a musical version of a landscape painting by Constable or Poussin (the latter is used to illustrate the album cover): generic rural characters in a pageant like setting or series of tableaus, singing attractive arias about… well, in this case, fairly comfortable rural life during the four seasons. There is no narrative flow, no drama, though there is a gunshot in Autumn when someone shoots a bird. Everyone just stands around and sings in good late eighteenth century neo-classic operatic style. And in this edition, which is apparently the recovered first edition from which Haydn later trimmed some of the orchestral sections, there is some very fine orchestral music. The only way that I can see for a modern listener, even one as open-minded as I, to listen to this oratorio is to just sit back, forget the subject matter, ignore the lyrics (adapted from James Thompson's long poem, The Seasons) and listen to the music. Which given that it's Haydn, is very fine. And to give this review a little lift, the superb sound in this recording makes that a pleasure.

I'm clearly not over the Haydn oratorio hurdle yet here. I hear a pale echo of Handel in them. The denser and more florid textures of the baroque seem to suit this kind of music better. Gorgeous, indulgent, and intricate baroque music making can counterbalance even the most artificial plots; neo-classicism, which is more straightforward, has to work harder at it. Or I have to!

But this is not supposed to be about gaps in my taste: if you enjoy eighteenth century choral music, especially in its more celebratory mode, you need not hesitate to pursue this wonderfully produced example of one of the century's most beloved pieces.

Thomas Tallis, The Complete Works, Volume 9: Instrumental Music and Songs. Chapelle du Roi, Alistair Dixon. (Signum Records)

Actually, Dixon and the Chapelle du Roi don't perform on this recording, Volume 9, which completes this remarkable and pleasing series, but they are on the first eight and so I'm crediting them here. The performers here are mainly instrumentalists, the brilliant group, Charaivari Agrèable, and also the wonderful harpsichordist, Laurence Cummings.

As you can see in the image above, all nine CD's are now available as a set, though not yet, I don't believe, in the US.

I am a Tallis (and Byrd) fan, but even if I weren't I would absolutely love and rave about this recording. If you have trouble sorting out the differences among English renaissance composers, you are not alone. But to my ears, which are passionate but not highly educated ones, the sound of Tallis has always had a particular appeal, which I can't account for in strictly musical terms. He and Byrd separate themselves from the others in ways that go right to the heart, both the heart of what this period's music is all about and to ours. I am singling out Volume 9 because it presents music of the composer I did not know existed, music for renaissance instruments: lute, virginals, and viols. That the religious choral sound of Tallis translates so eloquently to instrumental colors is a revelation to me. To those of you interested in finding a way into Tallis, this may be the most attractive entry point. This music is transporting.

The whole series is a symbol of what can be done in the face of the sad state of classical music recording in the world today. To complete a nine-volume series of the entire works of a not widely known sixteenth century composer of mainly religious choral music I consider a triumph of music over commerce. Hail to Signum! And hie you to your local record shop for one of the best classical albums of the year.

Charlie Haden, Land of the Sun, with Gonzalo Rubulcaba, (Verve)

Is there a better young jazz pianist in the world than Gonzalo Rubulcaba? Keith Jarrett? Jackie Terrason? I couldn't live without all three, but Rubulcaba is the one I would miss most. With Charlie Haden or with his own group, playing his own Cuban or anybody else's something else, he is an eloquent and also deeply moving jazz musician. There is a sense of authenticity to his music that grounds him like no others. Is this because of the Latin musical tradition that informs it? (Is this what gives classical composer Golijov so much of his power?) Are the blues and torch song roots of most modern American jazz losing their power over contemporary musicians? I can't say, but speaking for myself, as much as I enjoy listening to Jarrett and Terrasson, I find myself more moved by Rubulcaba. And I have never been much taken by Latin music. My problem, my ignorance. I have the sense that Rubulcaba is showing me the way in…or finding what is universal in his native music.

You can hear his deliberate, almost walking lyric course through every piece clearly, almost as if it were in its own world, as counter-melodies and rhythm whirl around it. I can't take my ears off him. This CD, which has become my favorite jazz recording in the last several years, also has Joe Lovano on tenor and several other musicians I am embarrassed not to know. Haden's bass, as always an engaging melodic foundation, makes a wonderful accompaniment.

Another Hayden/Rubulcaba collaboration not be missed is The Montreal Tapes, which also features drummer Paul Motian on Verve. Rubalcaba records with his own group(s) on Blue Note. His latest, Paseo, will very likely change your idea of Latin music. Follow this man!