2024 has been a flat year for major labels and an unsettled one for minors. Four independent outfits sold out — Hyperion to Universal, Bis to Apple, Chandos to Klaus Heymann, Divine Art to Rosebrook — the biggest shakeout in decades, leaving us wondering how much of their stubborn individuality might survive in the decade ahead.

In choosing the album of the year, I look for projects that define the era and will pass the test of time. Janine Jansens’ recording of the Sibelius and first Prokofiev concertos on Decca is one that bears comparison with the legends. Yundi Li’s Mozart piano music on Warner is another — a unique and unrepeatable set of interpretations.

The Klaus Tennstedt off-air concerts from Doremi are indispensable to conductor groupies. Semyon Bychkov’s Dvorak 7th and 8th symphonies with the Czech Philharmonic are organic and by no means vegetarian. Mark Elder’s farewell accounts in Manchester of both Elgar symphonies on the Halle’s own label is likewise epochal.

But the release that stands out for me as album of the year is the violinist Gidon Kremer performing the music of his lifetime on an ECM album called Songs of Fate. Kremer, 76, mixes Baltic composers with the Polish-Soviet Mieczyslaw Weinberg, bridging memories of Soviet thought-control and rustlings of independence beside a frozen sea.

I wrote of Songs of Fate in February 2024: 

Kremer’s commitment to playing the violin at an age when most colleagues have long turned to conducting shows how closely he regards the instrument as his personal voice. Down the decades, his tone has mellowed from Moscow-tooled precisionism to a round, all-embracing warmth. This austere and uplifting record is imbued with humanity and idealism. I don’t think I have ever recommend a new record as essential. This one is. 

Oh yes, it is.