As that time-honoured cliche suggests, one cannot judge a book, or indeed a CD, by its cover, and the rather dowdy exterior of this new Marco Polo release, from the acclaimed German cellist Maria Kliegel seems plainly to vindicate the obvious. This is, quite simply, one of the finest cello recital discs to have appeared for some time, and its virtues are reflected by the sheer quality of the playing, and also by the judicious balance between the adventurous and the familiar, in what amounts to just over 75 minutes of music.
Maria Kliegel worked extensively with Janos Starker at Indiana University, and his influence is apparent in her incisive attack and intense, yet never febrile tone, as she demonstrates in Gaspar Cassado's Dance of the Green Devil, a characteristic jeu d' esprit revealing the influence of Manuel de Falla's style upon Cassado, the 'other' (and certainly under-rated) Spanish cellist of the century. David Popper, acclaimed in his day as the ''Paganini of the cello'', is represented by the fiercely taxing Fantasy on Little Russian songs, and the Serenade. Both are typically virtuoso works, even if the Fantasy seems occasionally over extended and repetitive. Kliegel offers sympathetic accounts of the celebrated Bach Air, transcribed by Leonard Rose, and ''Standchen'', from Schubert's Schwanengesang, but the great Viennese master has absolutely no connection with his Dresden namesake, today remembered solely for his charmingly mercurial miniature, ''Die Biene'', played here with easy charm, and complete disregard for its difficulties by Kliegel. The Goyescas intermezzo and the Ravel ''Habanera'' have long been popular encore pieces, but the ''Tarantella'', from Shostakovich's music for the 1955 film The gadfly came as something of a surprise; the uncredited arrangement is superb, and the work is an ideal vehicle for Kliegel's virtuosity.
Heifetz popularized a violin arrangement of Debussy's ''Girl with the flaxen hair'' (from the First Book of Preludes) but the piece becomes more sensuously inviting when played on the cello, and here, as in the Rachmaninov Vocalise, one could perhaps wish for a shade more flexibility, which would have transformed these already very fine offerings into something even more compelling. Of the remaining items, ''Boulevard de Garavan'', a study in unaccompanied pizzicato, set in vaguely flamenco guise by the composer Siegfried Barchet, is especially fascinating, whereas Kliegel's expressive and idiomatic blues-inspired portamentos, and Tin Pan Alley realism in the Gershwin Short Story reveal her to be an artist of perception. The Senaille and Offenbach works are familiar, but the ''Cantilena'' by Vieuxtemps again strays away from the traditional recital repertoire.
Raymund Havenith accompanies throughout with restraint, though the piano sound is occasionally slightly harsh, with a percussive edge to fortissimo entries, but the recording, made at the Tonstudio van Geest, Heidelberg, certainly offers a glowingly accurate impression of Maria Kliegel's magnificent, and frequently titanic cello playing. A first-rate disc—unreservedly recommended.'