Don Juan, Vier letzte Lieder, Also sprach Zarathustra
Melbourne Symphony Orchestra
TPT: 73’ 46 ‘‘
ABC 481 1122
reviewed by Neville Cohn
This is a sumptuous recording of Don Juan. It impresses from the very first seconds, its opening measures metaphorically sweeping this listener off his feet. Immense, focussed energy launches the piece in an electrifying, frankly thrilling start – and unfolds no less impressively.
So often, ‘live’ concert recordings disappoint – but not this one. For much of the time, it is in the best sense satisfying, as much due to the skill of the sound engineers as the orchestral players and conductor Sir Andrew Davis.
From first note to last, one senses complete absorption in the work on the part of both conductor and orchestra – and, let us be frank, the sound engineers. The latter, in their crucial role, were clearly on their toes; it’s a recording that does very real justice to the players – and to Strauss. Very occasionally, string tone might have been a shade cleaner. But attack and follow-through were everything one could have hoped for.
Strauss’ Also Sprach Zarathustra is given a no-less-meaningful reading with a thrilling introduction, expressed with the sort of hackle-raising intensity which draws the listener ineluctably into the composer’s unique mood and sound universe. Its hushed ending is finely considered.
Strauss’Vier letzte Lieder – Four Last Songs – that wondrously autumnal, bittersweet leave-taking of the world, is some of the most profoundly moving music ever committed to paper. Here, the MSO and Davis do wonders with the score, its nostalgia-drenched measures everything one could hope for. Horn playing is wondrously fine in ‘September’. The singing, though, for all its many merits, does not fully evoke the intrinsic melancholy of the work as effectively as the accompaniment – and the vocal line is not quite secure in ‘Fruhling’ and loses power at the nadir of the range in Beim Schlafengehen.
For aficionados of Jean Martinon, this set of three compact discs including all his LP recordingsfor Philips from as far back as the 1950s is musical treasure trove. With the exception of Falla’s Nights in the Gardens of Spain, all of these performances are available for the first time on CD, anevent to celebrate. Much of it is a catalogue of musical delights which are now available to a new generation of listeners – and not before time. It’s certainly been well worth the wait.
Dukas’ The Sorcerer’s Apprentice is given a fascinatingly detailed reading, a performance thatdraws the listener ineluctably into the composer’s unique mood and sonic world. With livelyrhythms and finely gauged ritardandi, this is a performance that leaps from the page. At climaxes,the playing is informed by a sizzling intensity that grips the attention.
Honegger’s Pastorale occupies a very different sound and mood world; it’s lulling, dreamilyswaying quality is the antithesis of the Dukas work. Here, Martinon coaxes a consistently unifiedresponse from his forces.
The chief joy of this collection is a superb account of de Falla’s Nights in the Gardens of Spain.Exquisitely handled orchestral detail is a perfect foil for Eduardo del Pueyo who is magical in thesolo role. Throughout, pianist, orchestra and conductor sound as one. Here, we have intensitywhether quiet or sizzling – and rippling keyboard figurations that are everything that could behoped for – and more!
In the hands of a lesser conductor, Noches can so easily sound formless, confused andinterminable. Not here! From first note to last, one sensed an irrefutable musical logic on the partof both soloist and conductor. Bravissimo!
Martinon is no less impressive in de Falla’s El Amor Brujo which flares into pulsing life. Even Fire Dance, that most hackneyed of all de Falla’s pieces, sounds here quite irresistible. AltoCorinne Vozza is an ideal choice; she sings the words as if they really mean something.
Music director of the Chicago Symphony and artistic director of the Israel Philharmonic, amongnumbers of other highestlevel postings, it’s interesting to reflect on Martinon’s remarkable career.
His original intention was to work primarily as a composer. How fortunate that he took both pathsin his stride, leaving much that is memorable – and for the very best reasons.
Although the Mozart performances date from as far back as 1958 when recording techniques werenot what they are now, their shortcomings in a purely sonic sense pale into insignificance when considering the sheer spontaneity and immaculate sense of style which Martinon brings to theselongago Phillips LP recordings.
Mozart’s delightful little Symphony No 32, which lasts all of 8 minutes, could well serve as a handy overturelike piece as curtain raiser to a program of more substantial music. It’s robust,jovial, busy music here given a first rate reading with beautifully maintained momentum.
Prokofiev’s Classical Symphony is given masterly treatment here. Its opening movement has adelightful aerial quality that sounds entirely right, spiced with abrupt fortes. Much of the work hasa tongueincheek quality, decorated cleverly with glittering trills and rapid arabesques to all ofwhich Martinon and his forces respond with engaging skill.
A suite from the same composer’s suite from The Love for Three Oranges yields listening wondersas well. Scene infernale is particularly pleasing with strings whether violins in high treble orslashes of double bass tone very much on the ball.. The famous March brims with vigour andthe Prince and Princess episode is in the best musical sense meaningful.
Debussy’s Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun features flute phrasing of faultless finesse. Faure’sPavane, , too, with its gentle pizzicato, is finely considered.
Roussel’s compositions are very seldom heard locally. More’s the pity because his wondrouslyimaginative music is an Ali Baba’s cave of sonic gems. Martinon and his forces seem positively to selish coming to grips with the scores in both the Bacchus and Ariane ballet suites – and TheSpider’s Banquet is a joy.
Tartini’s Devil’s Trill Sonata is known to millions of music aficionados but few, I imagine, have encountered it in the version recorded here by Hideko Udagawa. She reveals a very different take on this venerable work. In it, the conventional keyboard accompaniment is completely jettisoned and the sonata is presented as a violin solo. The same applies to Vivaldi’s miniature Andante in C minor. Both the Tartini and Vivaldi works are given their world premiere recordings here as is the Concerto in B flat by Karl Stamitz which is performed with the Scottish Chamber Orchestra.
Udagawa’s performance of Devil’s Trill makes fascinating listening. Initially, it sounds, as it were, incomplete, the audio equivalent of looking at a famous painting, say one of van Gogh’s impressions of sunflowers, with some of the blooms missing. But this sense of oddness, resulting from the absence of the keyboard part, evaporates as one falls under the spell of Udagawa’s persuasive artistry.
In the second movement, the playing is intense, passionate and forceful. It’s a powerful statement with finely maintained momentum. And in the famous finale, assertive, grainy-toned intensity, with finely spun trills – with fleeting digressions into introspection – combine to impressive effect. Certainly, the version of the finale offered here is so convincing in stylistic terms that the presentation sounds completely satisfying; the absence of an accompaniment here barely registers..
Vivaldi in brief, a three-minute Prelude with finely negotiated double-stopping, is another rarity.
There’s first-rate orchestral accompaniment from the Scottish Chamber Orchestra in the Concerto in B flat by Stamitz. A charm-laden Allegro gives way to a sweet-toned Adagio but solo intonation is less than secure. The concluding dance-like Rondo brims with good cheer although less than totally reliable intonation-wise.
Fritz Kreisler is famous for writing music miniatures which he would pass off as the work of this or that obscure composer as well as delightful Viennese-style pieces (Praeludium and Allegro, Liebesfreud – the list is long). Here we have a violin concerto “in the style of Vivaldi”. Its first movement has a pleasantly rhythmical if ersatz charm, all of it revealed with finesse. In the andante doloroso, Udagawa mines the music for all its melancholy charm with notes clothed in warmly mellow tone. A fine pace is maintained in an assertively rhythmical finale with conductor Nicholas Kraemer presiding efficiently over events.
Intonation is not always secure in the Kreisler work – and curiously wayward pitch mars an account of Vitali’s Chaconne.
Both composers featured on this CD died before they’d reached the ago of 40. One can only speculate what musical riches were denied the world by so tragically early a demise. Often, death intervened before works were completed. Entire movements were needed to complete Mozart’s Requiem. And years after Elgar’s death, his Symphony No 3 was completed by a third party. Mendelssohn, too, left unfinished works.
Now Martin Yates has taken up the challenge of building to completion a concerto of which Mendelssohn had left only the briefest of sketches. It would have been a huge challenge – and a labour of love – to embark on so daunting a musical mission from so miniscule a base. Of course, there’s the possibility that Mendelssohn might have felt the work wasn’t worth taking to completion. No one can be certain. Was this task shouldered by Yates worth the time and effort invested? On the evidence of this recording, I’d say a definite ‘yes’.
Unlike the piano concertos in G minor and D minor, the work in E minor lacks a virtuosic introductory flourish. But there are nonetheless pages of demanding writing for the solo instrument – and the work, as built up by Yates and interpreted to such exquisite effect by Sangiorgio, inhabits a charm-laden sound and mood world that frequently calls to mind some of Mendelssohn’s engaging Songs without Words. And the gentle, elegiac lift to the phrase – and its quiet simplicity – in the slow movement could hardly be bettered – as also the jovial, buoyant, polka-like measures of the finale, all of which falls most agreeably on the ear. As well, in this world premiere recording, string playing is lively and precise.
Unlike the Mendelssohn work, Chopin’s Piano Concerto No 1 is, of course, one of the most loved and frequently heard works in the repertoire. This version, though, is somewhat off the beaten track in that the orchestration has been revised by Mily Balakirev (he of the Russian Five) to take clever advantage of what would at the time have been relatively recent improvements in the construction of brass and woodwind instruments. It’s put together very cleverly. Balakirev also added a part for cor anglais – and he titled the work Grand Concerto. This is the first ever digital recording of the Balakirev version.
Sangiorgio plays it beautifully in turn tender and sighing with, often, a light-textured aerial quality to the phrase that makes this reading memorable. Throughout, Yates and the Royal Northern Sinfonia come up trumps.
There’s also an orchestral rarity: Mendelssohn’s Heimkher aus der Fremde which makes a charming overture to the two concertos.
Rudolf Koelman, who frequently visits Perth to give performances with the Fremantle Chamber Orchestra, sounds at the top of his game in this recording made in Fremantle Town Hall.
Let it be said at once that the FCO sounds transformed on this occasion. I cannot recall ever before hearing this ensemble at such a high level of presentation – and Koelman employs his formidable command of the violin to dazzling effect.
Sarasate’s much loved Zigeunerweisen springs into intense life. Whether reflective or passionate, both soloist and orchestra are consistently impressive.
In the lengthy opening solo of Ravel’s Tzigane, Koelman sounds in his element, bringing to this cruelly difficult work an understanding of the genre and a physical command of the violin that results in a reading almost beyond criticism in the conventional sense – apart from some very brief loss of focus in rapid pizzicato. The presentation throbs with intensity.
Chausson’s Poeme is a world away from the virtuosity of the Sarasate and Ravel works – and it is given a memorable reading in which Koelman reveals its idiosyncratic secrets with an understanding of style and mood that elevates the performance to the stars. I cannot readily recall a performance of this work that equals this beautifully conceived reading. Poeme, in less than totally assured hands, can so easily sound mawkish and sentimental. Not here. This performance is a model of its kind.
Tchaikowsky’s Souvenir of a Dear Place is seldom heard, apart from the celebrated Melodie. More’s the pity because it brims with memorable moments. In the outer sections of the Scherzo, Koelman maintains a sizzling, faultless pace with a finely contrasted slower central section. The concluding Melodie is beautifully fashioned.
Christopher van Tuinen and Jessica Gethin do sterling work on the podium.
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So often, ‘live’ concert recordings disappoint – but not this one. For much of the time, it is in the best sense satisfying, as much due to the skill of the sound engineers as the orchestral players and conductor Sir Andrew Davis.
