Rachmaninoff: Symphony No. 2. Philharmonia Orchestra
conducted by Vladimir Ashkenazy. Signum Classics. $17.99.
Smetana: Festive Symphony; The Bartered
Bride—Overture and Dances. Rundfunk-Sinfonieorchester Berlin conducted by Darrell Ang. Naxos. $12.99.
Schubert: Symphony No. 9, “Great”; Die
Zauberharfe—Overture. Radio-Sinfonieorchester Stuttgart des SWR conducted by Roger
Norrington. SWR Music. $8.99.
John Robertson: Symphony No. 1; Suite for
Orchestra; Variations for Small Orchestra. Janàček
Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Anthony Armoré. Navona. $14.99.
Symphonies have served their composers, as
well as audiences, in many ways over the years – and continue to do so even
today. Rachmaninoff’s Second was in many ways a “recovery” piece after the
disastrous reception given his First Symphony and the subsequent mental
breakdown that left him unable to compose for a time. It has become easily the
most popular of his three symphonies, and the live recording on Signum Classics
of a performance by the Philharmonia Orchestra under Vladimir Ashkenazy shows
why. This is a work of intensity and high drama throughout, with soaring
themes, sweeping climaxes, and instance after instance of the
more-Romantic-than-Romanticism themes for which Rachmaninoff is justly renowned
or reviled, depending on one’s individual reaction. The extended deep brooding
quality of the Largo introduction to
the first movement sets the tone for the entire work, and Ashkenazy gives it
plenty of time to spin out and settle in the audience’s ears. The pacing of
this entire movement is strong and stately, but Ashkenazy is as attentive to
the movement’s lyricism – especially the lovely cello theme – as to its drama.
It is interesting that Rachmaninoff ends the movement more gently than most of
it would lead listeners to expect – and in so doing makes the renewed drama of
the Scherzo all the more effective. Again, Ashkenazy shows a fine sense of
proportion here, both in the intense main section and in the contrasting middle
one, which is not exactly a “trio” but does offer a bit of respite. And then
Ashkenazy lets the marvelous Adagio
flow with unceasing warmth tinged with melancholy, the famous clarinet melody
permeating the music and seeming to go on without stopping, a fascinating
achievement for a movement that, analytically, is in sonata form. Then, much as
the Scherzo bursts out after the comparatively gentle end of the first
movement, Rachmaninoff produces the strongest possible contrast between the
third movement and finale, whose march-like opening instantly sweeps away all
inwardness and emotional fervor. If the swooning elements of the third movement
are not to all tastes because they are so over-the-top, the same may be said of
the equal-but-opposite intensity of this finale, with its cymbal clashes, brass
fanfares and huge crescendo after a downward scale. Ashkenazy wisely decides to
take the movement at face value, without trying to make it seem especially
profound, which it is not. It is, however, thrilling and involving for
listeners willing to let themselves be absorbed into its sound world, which
Ashkenazy evokes with consummate skill and which the Philharmonia players bring
to a vividly colored conclusion that clearly underlines the reasons for this
symphony’s popularity.
Smetana’s sole symphony, in contrast, has
never attained a significant place in concert halls or recordings, even though
it was a work of considerable importance to its composer and was intended to
have equal significance to the audiences of its time (1854). Unfortunately for
Smetana, the work ran afoul of geopolitics: nearly the entire symphony is based
on the Austrian imperial hymn, originally written by Haydn and continuing its
stately use right into the 20th century until its pre-emption by the
Nazis. Three of the symphony’s four movements are built around this well-known
theme, and the work itself was intended to celebrate the then-thought-likely
possibility of Emperor Franz Joseph becoming King of Bohemia. Unfortunately for
Smetana, this made the symphony into an occasional work whose reason for being
soon passed, as Czech nationalism turned against the notion of expanded
imperial power. As a result, the only part of the symphony that was heard very
much during the composer’s lifetime was the Scherzo, the sole movement without
any reference to the imperial theme. The new Naxos recording of the symphony in
a performance by the Rundfunk-Sinfonieorchester Berlin under Darrell Ang offers
an unusual opportunity to hear the whole Festive
Symphony, which repays its title through its bright C major key and a sense
of upbeat positivism (if scarcely overdone celebration) throughout. Ang is a
rather pedestrian conductor – there would likely be more to the symphony under
someone better attuned to its nuances – but the straightforward performance
here does give a sense of the mood in which the work was written and the hopes
that the work was intended to showcase. The recording pairs the symphony with
some can’t-miss music from Smetana’s The
Bartered Bride: the wonderful, scurrying Overture, the polka from Act I,
the furiant from Act II, and the Dance of
the Comedians from Act III. These excerpts stand as near-perfect
adaptations of the folk-music idiom to the opera stage, having all the verve
and spirit of the material on which Smetana drew to create them while being
arranged and orchestrated to perfection for theatrical display. Again, Ang is
not the ideal conductor for this music, in particular allowing the Overture to
drag a bit and almost get away from the strings on a couple of occasions (a
rarity for this very fine orchestra). But there is enough spirit and uplift in the
performance, and so much that is bright in the music itself, that the CD
becomes a very worthwhile opportunity for listeners to contrast one of
Smetana’s less-known works, in all its seriousness, with some of his
most-frequently-heard and most-joyous music.
Schubert’s Symphony No. 9 in C is a far
more significant work than Smetana’s Festive
Symphony in the same key, and the standards for excellence in performing
the Schubert are very high indeed. It would be reasonable to expect a top-notch
reading of this symphony, which Schumann described as having “heavenly length,”
from the Radio-Sinfonieorchester Stuttgart des SWR conducted by Roger
Norrington. But the SWR Music release of a recording dating to 2001 – part of a
new series of bargain-priced archival recordings – is a disappointment that
barely achieves a (+++) rating. Norrington makes a common but surprising
miscalculation in pacing the symphony too quickly: the whole thing runs barely
51 minutes even with the repeat of the first-movement exposition (which some conductors,
very unwisely, omit). The whole thing feels rushed: there is nothing expansive
or stately here. The title “Great” is actually used to distinguish this
symphony from Schubert’s Sixth, also in C, but the word is taken as well to
refer to the Ninth’s expansiveness and grandeur. It lacks both of those here.
The orchestra plays well for Norrington, who was its principal conductor at the
time of this performance, and certainly Norrington presents the work with
consistency: once he picks his tempos, he minimizes rubato and stays with them almost throughout every movement, and
the relationship among the movements in terms of their speed is carefully
considered. But the whole symphony never has a chance to breathe: Schubert’s
long-spun-out themes sound truncated, his pastoral elegance is trivialized, and
the headlong finale makes it sound as if Norrington and the orchestra just want
to get the whole thing over with as soon as possible. The opposite approach, in
which one dwells within Schubert’s expansive symphonic world for a
much-extended time, would have been far more effective here. Norrington
does a better job with the overture to Die Zauberharfe, which is better known
as the Rosamunde overture (Schubert
reused the music in a new context). This 2002 performance is elegant and just
piquant enough to give the music a suitably airy touch. But its effective 10
minutes do not compensate for the less-than-stellar handling of the symphony.
A
new (+++) Navona release of the music of John Robertson (born 1943) shows that
symphonies continue to retain their importance and communicative potential even
for contemporary composers. In this case, though, the music itself is less than
compelling despite a sensitive and well-balanced performance by the Janàček Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Anthony
Armoré. Robertson’s Symphony No. 1 is a three-movement work (the movements are
simply labeled I, II and III) that spends most of its time trying on various
styles and musical approaches, from the pointed to the lyrical, the Romantic to
the modernistic, the traditionally organized to the somewhat experimental (the
latter exemplified by an extended violin solo that opens the finale, as if the
work suddenly turned into a violin concerto, complete with cadenza). The
orchestration is nicely handled and the overall work is firm in construction,
but there is nothing particularly unusual or involving in it. The Suite for Orchestra comes across
somewhat better, its four unrelated movements being primarily tonal and generally
reflective of the four distinct forms or expressions given in their titles: Fanfare, Waltz, Elegy and March. Within those titles, though, the
music is not particularly distinguished: March
has fanfare-like elements, for instance, and although Waltz is in three-quarter time, it is not particularly tuneful or
danceable (assuming it is intended to be). In fact, the most effective piece on
this disc is Variations for Small
Orchestra, Robertson’s first major work. It takes a rather traditional view
of what the variation form means – the basic, graceful theme remains
recognizable almost throughout – and goes through six thematic metamorphoses
that give the orchestra plenty of opportunities to shine and provide listeners
with an intriguing aural maze to follow. There is even a waltz that comes
across better than does the one in the Suite
for Orchestra. The finale of Variations
for Small Orchestra wraps things up neatly by recalling bits of several
variations and then bringing trumpets front-and-center: this is a piece that
shows that traditional forms beyond that of the symphony can retain their
potency even today, in the hands of composers who can find new ways to use
them.
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