Tchaikovsky: The Nutcracker
(complete); Stravinsky: Divertimento from “Le baiser de la Fée.”
Gürzenich-Orchester Köln conducted by Dmitrij Kitajenko.
Oehms. $29.99 (2 CDs).
Tchaikovsky: Ballet Suites for
Piano Four Hands. Mari Kodama and Momo Kodama, piano. PentaTone. $19.99
(SACD).
Bruckner: Symphony No. 2.
Orchestre Métropolitain
conducted by Yannick Nézet-Séguin. ATMA Classique. $16.99.
Bruckner: Symphony No. 3—original
version (1873). Staatskapelle Dresden conducted by Yannick Nézet-Séguin. Profil. $16.99.
The pairing of Tchaikovsky’s
The Nutcracker with Stravinsky’s
divertimento on music from his tribute to Tchaikovsky, Le baiser de la Fée, is an unusual one – and so
interesting that a new Oehms release may make listeners wonder why this
combination is not offered more often. Stravinsky composed his ballet for the
35th anniversary of Tchaikovsky’s death, in 1928, and included
orchestrations and expansions of some early Tchaikovsky piano pieces and other
little-known material in it. He filtered the Tchaikovsky originals through his
own then-current neoclassical style, and the result is a work that sounds
entirely like Stravinsky while at the same time clearly paying tribute to the
Russian Romantic era, and lying close to that time if not actually within it. Dmitrij
Kitajenko has some particularly interesting ideas about Tchaikovsky – for
instance, he concluded his cycle of the symphonies with the rarely played No.
7, not with No. 6, as most conductors do. His ideas about Stravinsky bear
hearing, too: Kitajenko emphasizes the balletic nature of the music while at
the same time effectively bringing out details of its orchestration, with the Gürzenich-Orchester Köln playing superbly, as is its wont.
Kitajenko focuses on the balletic elements of The Nutcracker, too, and while this may scarcely seem surprising,
in fact it produces a rather unusual performance in which tempos are nearly
always held in check, as they would be to allow dancers to perform elaborate
steps – rather than delivered briskly, as this music generally is in the
concert hall. The result is a performance that sometimes drags – the opening
scenes are simply too expansive – but that often includes felicitous touches,
with a particularly effective Großvatertanz
and a crackling battle with the mice, plus the unusual and delightful decision
to have a children’s chorus provide the vocalise for Waltz of the Snowflakes. The character pieces in the second act are
as charming as always, with the percussion in Mutter Gigoen und die Polichinelles especially enjoyable; and here
the apotheosis at the ballet’s end actually carries some weight and seems a
suitable rather than peremptory conclusion. Kitajenko takes a highly personal
approach to Tchaikovsky in general and The
Nutcracker in particular, and the pairing of the ballet with the Stravinsky
makes for an unusually interesting release.
Pairing the Kitajenko
recording with a new PentaTone one featuring sister pianists Mari Kodama and
Momo Kodama – themselves a highly accomplished pair – is even more intriguing.
This SACD offers versions for piano duo of excerpts from all three Tchaikovsky
ballets. There are five movements from Sleeping
Beauty as arranged by a very young Sergei Rachmaninoff; nine from The Nutcracker in an arrangement by
Anton Arensky; and two separate sets of three movements each from Swan Lake, one by Claude Debussy that
contains many hints of Debussy’s own music as well as Tchaikovsky’s, and one by
Eduard Langer (1835-1905) – the least-known of the arrangers here, but clearly
a composer with considerable affinity for Tchaikovsky and a strong sense of
compositional craft. Indeed, there is a puzzle associated with Langer in this
recording: he actually arranged six Swan
Lake pieces for piano duo, and there is no discernible reason for omitting
three of them (the recording runs just 63 minutes and there would have been
plenty of room for the missing ones). Aside from that omission, there is little
to which to take exception here. The playing is uniformly excellent, the
pianists cooperating attentively and elegantly and handing off to each other fluidly
as the music requires. The music itself is scarcely best heard in this form –
the arrangements, while respectable or better, nevertheless pale before the
orchestral versions of the ballets. However, there are some surprisingly
revelatory elements here that make the two-piano arrangements well worth
hearing. The Dance of the Sugar Plum
Fairy, which a listener might expect to be among the least effective pieces
because of the lack of a celesta, is in fact one of the best, with Arensky’s
arrangement making the piano sound very definitely celesta-like. Debussy’s way
with the Danse espagnole and Danse napolitaine from Swan Lake is also
notable. All the arrangements are, at the very least, skillful and highly
professional, and if they will surely never supplant the orchestral form of
this music, they are highly interesting to hear, and they shed some new light
on works that have been played so often in their usual form that they are
always at risk of becoming over-familiar.
There is also something
unusual in a pair of newly released recordings of Bruckner symphonies conducted
by Yannick Nézet-Séguin: No. 2 on ATMA Classique and
No. 3 on Profil. These are, in a sense, readings by two different Nézet-Séguins: No. 3 was recorded in 2008, No. 2 in 2015, and when a
conductor is now only 41 years old, performances seven years apart can
represent a significant amount of growth and rethinking. But one thing that is
unusual in this pair is that – aside from the significantly superior , warm and
elegant sound of the larger Staatskapelle Dresden when compared with the plucky
but comparatively thin Orchestre Métropolitain
– the two readings are very similar at the core. Bruckner, after all, had both
these symphonies in hand when he visited Richard Wagner in 1873 and asked the
man he idolized to allow one of them to be dedicated to him. The works are thus
deeply similar even though their differences stand out starkly – or at least
they are deeply similar when a conductor uses the original, 1873 version of No.
3. And that is something else unusual in these releases, because that version,
still infrequently heard, is the one that Nézet-Séguin
conducts. Both of these are robust readings, strongly paced and, in the case of
No. 3, decidedly on the rapid side – presenting a challenge to the Dresden
players, to which they rise admirably. Nézet-Séguin obviously knows where the
Wagner quotations are in No. 3, and listeners familiar with Wagner will
certainly hear them, but there is no dwelling on them and no attempt to make
them a greater part of the symphony’s structure than they are: Bruckner was
able to remove them in later versions of the work because they are, to a
certain extent, add-ons rather than integral elements of the symphony. The huge
scale of this first version of No. 3 poses no apparent difficulty to Nézet-Séguin, who shapes the work strongly and prevents its occasional
meandering and bloat from overtaking its essentially well-planned scope. This
is a significantly better performance than the one released in 2014 on ATMA
Classique, in which Nézet-Séguin led the Orchestre Métropolitain through this version of
the symphony in a rather frenetic 67 minutes. This time the work lasts five
minutes longer and seems altogether better thought out. Bruckner’s later
versions of the symphony are tighter as well as shorter, but even though this
one sprawls, Nézet-Séguin does a good job here of keeping
it under control. And the Staatskapelle Dresden, which actually gave the first
performance of this version of the symphony as recently as 1946 (with entirely
different players, of course), seems thoroughly at home here and delivers the
sort of traditional cathedral-like sound that seems to fit Bruckner the
organist so well. Certainly the audience in this live recording seems duly
appreciative, although everyone seems a bit stunned when the symphony simply
stops – the over-abrupt ending here is not one of Bruckner’s more-inspired conclusions.
The recording of No. 2 is
also from a live performance, in Montreal rather than Dresden, and the sonic
environment here is quite different from that in No. 3. The overall sound of
the symphony is somewhat more modern: the Schubertian elements of Bruckner have
been more frequently brought to the fore in recent performances, and it no
longer seems necessary to focus always on the gigantism of his full-orchestra
passages – more-delicate, more-thinly-scored sections come through just as
well. The smaller orchestra here fits this approach well, and there is a
cleanness of sound in this reading that is pleasantly bracing. This symphony
ended up without a dedication after Wagner chose No. 3 as the one to bear his
name – and No. 2 is certainly a less-compelling work than the original version
of No. 3, although comparisons between these two recordings should not be attempted
too precisely: Nézet-Séguin uses the Haas composite version
of No. 2, which is based on the 1877 revision but contains elements from the
1872 original, so listeners are not hearing the urtext of both symphonies. What they are hearing is a young conductor with a strong sense of the
propulsiveness as well as the massive elements of Bruckner, a conductor not
afraid to let the symphonies unfold, at times, with greater forward motion than
they usually receive. Neither of these readings is as thoroughly convincing as,
say, those in the recent recordings by Mario Venzago, who also used different
orchestras for different symphonies – but in his case did so to try to reflect
the character of the music, not simply because different ensembles and
recording companies were available. But Nézet-Séguin has
real style, and in this pair of Bruckner symphonies he shows considerable
understanding of Bruckner’s worldview and is able to communicate the works’
scale effectively to two very different audiences. The result is a pair of very
different but equally first-rate performances.
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