John Canarina, Scott Cantrell, Kenneth Cooper, R. D. Darrell, Peter G. Davis, Kenneth Furie, Harris Goldsmith, David Hamilton, Dale S. Harris, R. Derrick Henn, Susan Nicholas Kenyon, Allan Korinti, Paul Henry Lang, Irving Loirens, Karen Monson Conrad I.. Osborne, Andrew Porter, Patrick J. Smith, Paul A. Snook 7: Sommer
--------- Igor Kipnis' recycled Bach lacks flavor.
BACH: Concertos for Harpsichord(s) and Orchestra (complete).
Igor Kipnis, Linda Schell-Plush'. David Schrader', and David Hertzberg', harpsichords; Stuttgart Chamber Orchestra, Karl Munchinger, cond. [Peter Springer, prod.] IN ITRCORD INT 185.925. $51.98 (five discs. manual sequence). Tape: INT 485.925. $51.98 (five cassettes). (Distributed by Brills Imports, 155 N. San Vicente Blvd.. Beverly Hills, Calif. 90211.)
Concertos for Harpsichord: No. 1, in D minor. S. 1052; No. 2, in E, S. 1053; No. 3, in D. S. 1054; No. 4, in A. S. 1055; No. 5. in F minor. S. 1056; No. 6. in F. S. 1057; No. 7, in G minor, S. 1058. Concertos for Two Harpsichords: No. 1, in C minor, S. 1060; No. 2, in C, S. 1061; No. 3. in C minor, S. 1062.* Concertos for Three Harpsichords: No. 1. in D minor. S. 1063; No. 2. in C. S. 1064."Concerto for Four Harpsichords. in A minor. S. 1065.*"
COMPARISON: Leonhardt. Concentus Musicus Tel. 56.35049
Igor Kipnis recorded all the Bach concertos for single harpsichord about ten years ago for Columbia (with Neville Marriner conducting something called the "London Strings"), but since that version has been deleted, this issue will have special interest. It includes the seven complete concertos for single harpsichord (omitting the fragmentary S. 1059 that Kipnis completed for the earlier recording). as well as the concertos for two, three, and four harpsichords; it omits the S. 1044 Triple Concerto and the Fifth Brandenburg, included in the Columbia album.
Kipnis' ideas have not changed a great deal. The sound quality is considerably better here--vastly sweeter and with a nice sense of depth wholly lacking from the previous issue and the string playing more polished. More relevant, though, is a comparison with the directly competitive Gustav Leonhardt survey of the same works-a fascinating comparison indeed.
In the solo concertos, I generally prefer Leonhardt's performance, often more strongly characterized. His remarkable subtleties of rhythm and articulation impart an intensity that Kipnis only rarely captures. Not that Kipnis is ever bad; it's just that his interpretations are sometimes all too polished, too smooth, too polite. Part of the problem lies in his tempos, almost always more cautious than Leonhardt's; yet even when Kipnis is faster (as in the first movement of S. 1055), Leonhardt exudes more sheer energy. There are exceptions, though: Munchinger's strings really come to life in the last movement of S. 1056, and in S. 1057 and 1058 Leonhardt proves surprisingly bland.
In the multiple-harpsichord concertos, the balance heavily favors Kipnis, et al. in the first movement of S. 1060.
Munchingers strings play with a particularly agreeable lightness and delicacy that would have been appropriate much more often. And in the first movement of z a S. 1061, a bit of coy rhythmic stretching provides an unaccustomed buoyancy; suddenly all the notes don't sound alike, and the subtle variety is welcome. In the four-harpsichord concerto, Kipnis far outdoes his rival in capturing the dynamism of Vivaldi's original. In short, he is willing to take more chances in these works, and his colleagues are of the same mind; Leonhardt, evidently inhibited by the potential ensemble problems, opts for a safe-and ultimately dull-predict ability.
One pervasive drawback here is the sound of the (modern) harpsichords.
Much is made of their being based on historical models, but--at least as recorded--each produces the rather anti septic (and decidedly unhistorical) tinkle all too familiar from previous generations of German mass-produced harpsichords. The irritation is heightened by the contrast with the sound of the strings, somewhat overly lush.
All in all, I prefer the sound of Leonhardt's harpsichords and eighteenth-century strings, and his best performances are inspired. Yet there are times when he seems dispirited and his string players sound ill at ease. while Kipnis and friends never fall below thoroughly professional standards. To paraphrase a friend's comparison of two hamburger joints, Kipnis is cleaner, but Leonhardt has more flavor.
BRUCH: Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, No. 1, in G minor, Op. 26-See Sibelius: Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 47.
DEBUSSY: La Mer-See Ravel: Daphnis et Chloe: Suite No. 2.
DELIUS: The Magic Fountain.
CAST:
Watawa Solano Wapanacki Talum Hadjo Katherine Pring (s) John Mitchinson (t) Norman Welsby (bs) Richard Angas (bs) Spanish Sailor Francis Thomas (bs) BBC Singers and Concert Orchestra, Norman del Mar. cond. [Sylvia Cartier. prod.]
ARABESQUE 8121-2L, $14.96 (two discs, manual sequence). Tape: 9121-21.. $14.96 (two cassettes). [Recorded in performance, July 30, 1977.1 Completed in 1895. The Magic Fountain is the second of Delius' operas.
Despite attempts to produce it during and after his lifetime, it remained un performed until July 30, 1977, when it was presented by the BBC in concert form and recorded for broadcast-the performance presented here. Today, eighty-six years after its composition, the opera still awaits its stage premiere. The reasons for its neglect are both difficult and easy to comprehend: difficult, for it contains gloriously beautiful music: easy, because, like most of Delius' stage works, it is dramatically static. Perhaps the concert hall, radio, and phonograph are the best means of presenting it after all.
Many of Delius' works draw their inspiration from the history, folklore, and folk music of Florida, where he had spent two years reluctantly trying to grow oranges. The Magic Fountain, for one, makes use of musical material from another, the early suite. Florida. The plot is obviously derived from the story of Ponce de Leon's discovery of Florida and his quest for the fountain of youth, In the opera. Solano, a sixteenth-century Spanish nobleman, sets out in search of the fountain of eternal youth and life.
(Solano Grove. near Jacksonville, was Delius' home in Florida.) He becomes shipwrecked and is cast ashore and res cued by the Seminoles. The Princess Watawa, who hates all white men for what they have done to her race, is nevertheless prevailed upon to be Solano's guide in his quest for the fountain. She knows that its waters bring death to those not prepared in wisdom and truth. She wants Solano to die but, predictably enough, falls in love with him (as he al ready has with her) and drinks the waters herself to save his life. Solano thereupon also drinks from the fountain so that he may follow her in death "to that sweet magnolia grove." (One wants to add "in the sky.") The libretto, Delius' own, is quite dated and stilted in its language, the dramatic impulse virtually nonexistent de spite storm and shipwreck-and a brief Indian war dance that does not make the Seminoles appear particularly ferocious.
The music is absolutely gorgeous. Never known as a great allegro composer.
Delius typically takes his own sweet time in telling this slender tale with music of great expansiveness, replete with beguiling melodies, lush harmonies, and sumptuous orchestration. Listening to this score, one could justifiably feel that no one wrote more beautiful music than Delius.
John Mitchinson sings Solano a bit pompously, somewhat in the English oratorio manner, with lots of rolled r’s, though this is perhaps not inappropriate to the style of the libretto: the other men follow suit. Katherine Pring offers a sensitive portrayal of the princess. The real stars of this recording, however, are the orchestra and conductor. The BBC Con cert Orchestra (not to be confused with the BBC Symphony), which normally devotes itself to lighter fare, plays with the greatest involvement, sensitivity, and polish. Norman del Mar proves to be that extreme rarity, a truly distinguished Delian, capturing and projecting perfectly the subtle atmosphere, the ebb and flow this most elusive music. His achievement is worthy of Sir Thomas Beecham at his best. Readers with long memories may remember Del Mar as the conductor of Beethoven's Fifth in the first re lease of the Book-of-the-Month Club's Music Appreciation Series back in the 1950s. He certainly deserves to be heard from more frequently.
The microphone balance some times favors the orchestra to the detriment of the singers. Sound effects depicting the storm, shipwreck, and fountain were added to the recording after the performance. For devoted Delians, this indispensable release fills an important gap in knowledge and appreciation of the composer; even the cynics who maintain that Delius should have stayed in the citrus industry may fall under the spell of his magical sound world.
FREDERICK THE GREAT: Symphonies (4). Munich Pro Arte Orchestra. Kurt Redd. cond. PHILIPS 9502 057. $9.98. Tape: 7313 057, $9.98 (cassette).
Symphonies: No. 1, in G; No. 2. in G; No. 3. in D; No. 4. in A.
In the old days when there were many kings, it was not rare for a crowned head to be interested in music and versed in it.
But these were usually isolated individuals within a royal family. Not so the three children of the dour soldier-king of Prussia, Frederick William I: one of them was the future Frederick the Great.
The two girls did not count, of course, even though Princess Anna Amalia was deemed by reliable contemporary judges "as good as a professional." The crown prince showed musical abilities at an early age and began his studies when he was seven. As his interest in music and literature became paramount in his daily life, his enraged father placed him under arrest in a fortress, where he was effectively cut off from the arts. The situation did not improve for some years until he married and set up a household of his own. He then managed to organize a little chamber orchestra headed by Carl Heinrich Graun, who also continued Frederick's instruction in composition.
When the heir became king (1740), everything changed in a hurry. Emanuel Bach and, one year later, Johann Joachim Quantz were engaged as court musicians, the king ordered a splendid new opera house to be built. Graun was sent to Italy to recruit singers, and many other measures were taken that made Berlin within a few years a renowned center for music. In the meantime Frederick also ran his wars, but music remained very close to his heart. He played his flute-rather well-several times every day and took it, together with a traveling harpsichord, even into the field. In the 1750s the affairs of state, the organization of the first modern standing army, and of course the wars gradually left less time for his music, and in 1756 he laid down his flute and stopped composing.
Though his role in the history of German music is an important one as a knowledgeable patron who furthered music in many ways, it is very difficult to judge the true musical capabilities of this brilliant but very capricious monarch.
An autocrat of the first water, he nevertheless believed in the tenets of the Enlightenment; he was a German patriot who detested the German language, and all his correspondence and other writings were in French: he exchanged letters with Voltaire and other French philosophers and greatly admired French culture, though he hated the French. The contradictions are just as astonishing when it comes to music. He adored Italian music yet disliked Italian musicians and would not let an Italian composer into his new opera house; all the Italian operas performed there were written by Germans. He apparently appreciated polyphony, vide his interest in "the old Bach," but never resorted to it, nor would he permit his court composers to use it, except in church music. His taste in music was ultraconservative, yet long before Gluck he decided that the da capo aria should be abandoned in favor of the two-part cavatina and so ordered Graun. He played only his own works and those of his favorite, Quantz, who composed close to 300 flute concertos for his master. (No wonder he was such a conservative; 300 Quantz concertos would drive a deep furrow into anyone's brain!) This caused such monotony at the daily concerts held at the palace before supper that the fine musicians in his service began to drift away.
Of the four symphonies, well played in this recording by the Munich Pro Arte Orchestra under the direction of Kurt Redel, Nos. 1, 2, and 4 are from Frederick's apprentice days; they are authenticated and surprisingly good for an amateur. One's first suspicion is, of course, that his teachers had something to do with these works. But this proud and willful man, who prescribed to his musicians how they should compose, would not have stood for any such assistance, so we must accept them at their face value. The symphonies are Italianate, melodious, and euphonious; their construction is less than simple, but they hang together. No. 3, which I judge to be a later work, is close to the empfindsam style, almost reaching the early Mannheimers.
Frederick was a knowledgeable patron who furthered music in many ways.
Whatever our opinion of this man, he was a musician, and if his music is restricted in scope and fervor, it is because of his philosophical belief that music, unlike literature, should not deeply touch the soul, but should entertain, give solace after a day's hard work. His music is suitable for that. This is an interesting release. backed by a life story that is more than interesting: it should please those who like to study the byways of music history.
GLUCK: Orfeo ed Euridice.
CAST:
Euridice Veronika K incses (s) Amore Maria Zempleni (s) Orfeo Julia Hamari (ms) Hungarian State Opera Chamber Chorus and Orchestra. Ervin Lukacs, cond. [Janos Matvas. prod.] HUNGAROTON SLPX 12100/1. $19.96 (two discs. manual sequence).
Gluck's Orfeo ed Euridice used to he considered the "first" opera in the repertory canon; in the last twenty years, however, not only the works of Monteverdi L'Incoronazione di Poppea, especially but several of Cavalli have pushed back the frontiers with performances here and in Europe. I suspect that future productions of this great work will continue to he scarce, partly because Gluck's brand of music, which depends heavily on the maintenance of line. is out of favor nowadays, and the type of singer who can do it full justice no longer exists. In addition, conductors see in this, his most popular opera, a sort of pleasant baroque pastoral with dramatic overtones, and they play it. if not with the Romantic swooniness of yesteryear, with a sort of finicky chamber ballet feeling that is likewise inappropriate. The only conductor who truly combined the work's inherent searing passion with its ethereal qualities was Toscanini, and he recorded only the second act. In the current catalog, Georg Solti (London OSA 1285) and Charles Mackerras (Vanguard HM 66/7) bring life to it, while Renato Fa sano (RCA LSC 6169) takes the more traditional, thin-blooded route.
This performance, nicely played and straightforwardly sung (with appog giaturas but without embellishments). is well within the pastoral tradition. Erwin Lukacs uses the Barenreiter edition of the original 1762 Vienna score.
I won't go into the complicated history of performance editions of Orfeo, excellently delineated in Max Loppert's chart in Alan Blyth's Opera on Record (Hutchinson. 1979). Essentially, the 1762 first edition was written for male alto, but in 1774 Gluck revised and to some extent re-orchestrated and enlarged the opera for tenor voice for Paris. The later version is in every dramatic way prefer able because of the new music and be cause of the fundamental rethinking of the original. The only question is whether the role of Orfeo should be taken by a tenor or a female alto. Mine is currently a minority view, but what Gluck accomplished in tauter dramatic pacing defines the distance between the early reform precepts and a work that, in the 1774 form, looks directly past its eighteenth-century vantage point to the drama of the nineteenth century and works like Fidelio. The extension of the cadence in "Che faro senza Euridice" takes up only a few bars of music, yet that highlighting of Orfeo's anguish is so powerful and so poignant that in musico-dramatic terms it renders the 1762 edition a musicological curiosity. This is the very stuff of music-drama. and to put it aside in favor of the earlier edition is, frankly. inexplicable.
Even if you prefer the "pure" form of the opera, the Hungaroton performance does not offer much. Lukacs now and then wakes up and lends the music some urgency, but for the most part he plays it as Tafelmusik of an inoffensive sort. The ferocious sforzando string chords at the beginning of the second-act hell scene never come to the fore, and time and again Lukacs misses the drama in the music. It cannot too often be reiterated that Gluck's lesser stature as an inventive composer becomes crystal clear only when the drama built into his works is shortchanged. Apart from opera and some ballet music, Gluck's music doesn't exist as music in the way that, say. Rameau's does.
Julia Hamari has a warm and lovely mezzo, but as an artist she doesn't come within a mile of Orfeo. She imparts no feeling of loss at the beginning of the opera, no sense of hurling herself at the demons in the hell scene (the epithets "little" and "larva" are rendered as if transacting a business arrangement), and above all, no transcendent anguish when she loses Euridice for a second time.
Gluck is supposed to have told the castrato Guadagni to "shout Euridice's name as if you had suffered a real loss" in "Che faro." and anyone familiar with Callas' recording knows exactly what is required; for Hamari it is all a pleas urable tour of some quaint musical countryside. Moreover, she lacks the attention to word-and to word within a continuing musical line-that must in form this role. Nor does she embellish: the three stanzas of the Act I aria "Chiamo it mio ben," at least, need the kind of restrained variation that Marilyn Horne gives them in the Solti recording.
There the music comes to vibrant life.
Veronika Kincses brings some welcome ardor to the role of Euridice and handles the Act III recitatives (the 1762 version has lots of recitatives!) with a sense of character; Maria Zempleni is okay as Amore. The sound is likewise adequate, if not particularly spacious, and the set comes with a sexti-lingual translation and a very detailed article on the opera and its background. P.J.S.
HAYDN: Piano Trios (4). Mozartean Players. [Marc J. Aubort and Joanna Nickrenz, prod.] ARABESQUE 8123-2, $17.96 (digital recording; two discs). Tape: 9123-2, $19.96 (two cassettes).
Trios for Flute, Cello, and Piano: in G. H. XV: 15: in D. H. XV: 16. Trios for Violin. Cello, and Piano: in D minor. H. XV:23; in C, H. XV:25.
Haydn's piano trios on original instruments: Why? Haven't the elegant and brilliant performances of the Beaux Arts Trio told us everything we need to know of this music? Well, as the Mozartean Players convincingly demonstrate here, they haven't. The Beaux Arts accounts are splendidly refined, but their balance is curious: an artificially restrained cello; a rich, prominent piano; a silky violin.
With original instruments, the cello dominates the bass line, the violin cuts through the piano treble tone, and so only the independent parts of the key board line really come through the strings. A solo with accompaniment be comes a true trio, and all the instruments can play out boldly.
Having said that, I would not automatically prefer the Mozartean Players to the Beaux Arts, for the latter are among the best chamber music players in the world. But this set can be strongly recommended, for it offers a good choice of works, and half the performances are excellent-the two trios with flute, in which Rebecca Troxler plays delight fully and deftly. In the trios with violin, Richard Luby's tone is forced and acid.
Myron Lutzke, a most effective cellist, articulates sharply and shapes each phrase well. Steve Lubin's fortepiano sounds better than on his recent solo Mozart disc (Spectrum SR 125, February)-and this whole album is better re corded-but there is still the strange un even note on the piano that disrupts an eloquent slow movement. His playing is rhythmically subtle, however; I like the hesitations in the famous Hungarian Rondo movement.
The musical gems here are the two eloquent, long-breathed adagios of the violin trios and the perky, surprising finales of the flute trios. There is too much on the sleeve about "a matrix of silence" and "a special rapprochement to the Classic aesthetic" and too little about the works. When were they written, for heaven's sake? H. C. Robbins Landon gives 1790 for the flute trios and 1794-95(?) for the violin trios and suggests that his Doblinger complete edition numbering be followed instead of Hoboken. The equations are H.15/16 = Nos. 28/29; H.23/25 = Nos. 37/39. Future releases, please note.
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Critics' Choice
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GOUNOD: Mireille. Freni, Vanzo, Van Dam, Plasson. ANGEL SZCX 3905(3), June.
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HAYDN: Salomon Symphonies, Vol. 1. Royal Philharmonic, Beecham.
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MUSGRAVE: A Christmas Carol. Virginia Opera, Mark. MMG 302 (3), May.
POULENC: Songs (complete). A mel ing, Gedda, Senechal, Souzay, Parker, Baldwin. EMI FRANCE 2C 165-16231/5 (5), May.
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ROZSA, WAXMAN, WEBB: Film Music. ENTR'ACTE ERM 6002. March.
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JANACEK: From the House of the Dead.
CAST:
Alieia
Harlot
Filka
Skuratov
Tall Prisoner
Old Prisoner
Voice/Cherevin
Shapkin/Kedril
Shishkov
Gorianchikov
Chekunov/ Don Juan
Commandant
Short Prisoner
Jaroslava Janska (s) Eva Zikmundova (ms) Jiff Zahradnieek (t) Ivo Zidek (t) Vladimir Krejeik (t) Beno Blachut (t) Zdenek Svehla (t) Zdenek Soueek (t) Vaclav Zitek (b) Dalibor Jedliaa (b) Jaroslav Soueek (b) Antonin Svorc (bs-b) Richard Novak (bs)
A Vienna State Opera Chorus, Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, Charles Mackerras, cond. [James Mallinson and Michael Haas, prod.] LONDON LDR 10036. $21.96 (digital recording; two discs, automatic sequence).
Decca / London's laudable series of Janatek operas under Charles Mackerras' direction is developing into a phonographic landmark of major significance. Not only were the first two is sues, Kittya Kabanovit and The Makropoulos Affair, superb performances, but they presented the scores in editions that faithfully followed the composer's original intentions. As is often the case with a creative original, Janacek has received a great deal of well-meant but misguided "assistance" over the years, principally through extensive re-orchestration but also, in some instances, through reordering of scenes and wholesale re-composition. It seems odd that a composer who died as recently as 1928 should be subjected to such treatment, but even his earliest champions apparently felt that, for all his genius, there was something essentially amateurish about his singular dramaturgy and idiosyncratic conception of orchestral sonority, lapses that could easily be put to rights by slicker, more conventional minds. These Lon don recordings provide a corrective to such mistaken thinking.
Aside from the posthumously produced Osud (Fate), no opera in the Janacek canon has suffered more at editorial hands than From the House of the Dead, no doubt because the composer died a month after completing the score and the first performance was prepared with out his supervision. Two of his pupils, Bietislav Bakala and Osvald Chlubna, apparently even thought that the master had not in fact finished the opera, for they proceeded to romanticize the orchestration, thicken the wind parts, add some verbal padding to the vocal lines, and tack on an "apotheosis" final chorus.
This corrupt edition held the stage for some thirty years and may be heard on a king-deleted Epic recording, a live performance from the 1954 Holland Festival.
In 1961, Rafael Kubelik conducted his-new version of the opera in Munich, restoring Janacek's original bleak ending, as life in the house of the dead re turns to depressing "normalcy," and re moving many but not all of the Bakala Chlubna accretions. Supraphon's recording (50705/6) made a dozen years ago utilizes the composer's finale, but otherwise ignores Kubelik's revisions and sticks to the touched-up score. Now we have a performance based strictly on the manuscript, a new edition by the British Janacek scholar John Tyrrell, who painstakingly sorts out the textual problems in his excellent liner notes to London's recording. At last it is possible to hear House of the Dead in all its spare, stark, and uncompromising majesty.
Given this opera's unusual theme, structure, and musical fabric, one can perhaps understand those early editors' puzzlement over the composer's true intent. Janacek had tackled unorthodox material previously-the animal opera The Cunning Little Vixen and The Makropoulos Affair, with its decidedly un-lyrical plot based on an involved legal proceeding-but House of the Dead would appear even more unsuitable for the musical stage. Drawn from Dostoevsky's autobiographical novel about his experiences in a Siberian labor camp, the libretto offers no story line as such, merely vignettes of prison life loosely framed by the arrival and release of the nobleman Alexander Petrovitch Gorianchikov, a character scarcely developed at all. Except for a brief appearance by a prostitute, there are no women's roles, and the erotic element that Janacek conjured up so powerfully in all his previous operas is lacking completely.
The very absence of women in this intolerable Siberian hell becomes just one dramatic tool in Janacek's scheme, an unflinching examination of humanity at the abyss. In Dostoevsky's book, the composer found the distillation of the basic theme that concerned him in all his operas, human beings in extremis, wretched, pathetic, and contemptible perhaps, but never without value-"in every creature a spark of God" is the famous inscription he wrote on the score.
Much in Jandeek's distinctive treatment of the subject was suggested in his earlier operas; in fact, the memory of past events, a narrative technique used so effectively as far back as Jenti'fa, here be comes the crux of the entire opera.
The principal "events" in each act are narratives by various convicts de scribing the circumstances that led them to their present situation. These flash back revelations are in essence mini-op eras as we hear in detail how Skuratov murdered his beloved's fiancée, how Luka (Filka) was driven to stab his sadistic commanding officer, and how Shishkov cut the throat of his faithless wife.
These central monologues are surrounded by the commonplace routines of prison life, briefly dispelled by the prisoners' pantomimic entertainments of Act II. Every word and action in this typically economic scenario serve an interrelating function, building to Shishkov's twenty-minute life story that culminates in his recognition of the dying Luka as his wife's lover. This agonizing moment is the cathartic climax of the opera, followed by Gorianchikov's release and the symbolic flight to freedom by the prisoners' pet eagle, now cured of his lame wing. Here the bowdlerized version inserted the optimistic choral peroration.
Janacek, however, ended the opera with coruscating march music as the remaining prisoners are led back to work-the pain of life in the house of the dead continues, and as Michael Ewans eloquently writes in his study of Jandeek's operas, "the march seems to echo on, radiating outwards from the world of the prison into our own." Given Janacek's concerns as an opera composer to intensify the expressive force of human speech through musical means, House of the Dead stands as an inevitable conclusion to and crowning achievement in his life's work. Some will always question the aesthetics of his manner, a style of text setting that is so relentlessly faithful to spoken inflections that it seems to negate the very basis of opera as a lyrical expansion of verbal communication and interior emotion.
There is really no answering such subjective matters of taste; Janacek's personal voice, with its concentrated song-speech, often gnomic vocal lines, and restless orchestral mosaics, never was the stuff of conventional opera writing, and it will always grate on unreceptive ears. For the rest of us, House of the Dead remains a very special luminous work, even within the context of Janacek's other operas, for it is here that he fulfilled himself most to tally, an opera he was compelled to com pose "as if I had to account for my life." London's recording continues the high standards previously set in this series, further enhanced by the company's clean digital sonics. The cast comprises native Czech singers-not always the most exact and reliable performers of Janacek, as we have come to hear from Supraphon's pioneering versions, but far more carefully precise on this occasion without losing an ounce of dramatic involvement. Mackerras' conducting of the Vienna Philharmonic is little short of brilliant, and his stabbingly unsentimental interpretation penetrates right to the heart of the music. Record companies are constantly being accused of crass commercialism, so congratulations to London for lavishing its re sources on a project that, while it may not line the company's coffers, makes an invaluable artistic contribution to the re corded literature.
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MOZART: Concertos for Piano and Orchestra (4). English Chamber Orchestra. Murray Perahia. piano and cond. [Roy Emerson. prod.] CBS MASTERWORKS M 35828*/869'. $9.98 each. Tape: MT 35828*1869+. $9.98 each (cassettes). Concertos: No. 8, in C. K. 246+: No. 12. in A. K. 414*: No. 22. in E flat. K. 482': No. 27, in B flat. K. 595*.
MOZART: Concertos for Piano and Orchestra: No. 14, in E flat, K. 449; No. 26, in D, K. 537 (Coronation). Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. Tamas Visary. piano and cond. [Cord Garhen. prod.] DEUTSCHE GRAMMOPHON 2531 207. $9.98. Tape: 3301 207. $9.98 (cassette).
MOZART: Concertos for Piano and Orchestra: No. 20, in D minor, K. 466; No. 22, in E flat, K. 482. Emanuel Ax, piano: Dallas Symphony Orchestra. Eduardo Mata, cond. [Peter Dellheim. prod.] RCA RH) SEAL AR 1-3457.5998. Tape. ARK 1-3457. $9.98 (cassette).
MOZART: Concertos for Piano and Orchestra: No. 17, in G, K. 453; No. 27, in B flat, K. 595. B Walter Klien. piano: Minnesota Orchestra, Stanislaw Skrowaczewski. cond. [Marc J. Auhort and Joanna Nickrenz. prod.] CANDIDE CE 31119, $4.98. Tape: CT 2275. $4.98 (cas sette).
The last fifteen years have brought an awakening of Mozartean perception. In a general sense, today's performers (and listeners) have a far keener concept of appropriate classical sonority-the strings leaner and better contoured, the important woodwind contributions more prominent. And whereas even such past "stylists" as Artur Schnabel and Ed win Fischer engaged in practices we now know to be incorrect (their profound musicianship was another story), today we almost routinely encounter trills properly begun on the upper auxiliary, stylistically apt cadenzas where Mozart left none, stark cadences filled out with flourishes, and passagework convincingly embroidered.
But the more deeply we explore Mozart's keyboard concertos, the more problems come to the fore. While the solo concertos of Bach, Handel, and Vivaldi differ little from the concerto grosso-the solo emerging from and re joining the tutti in a continuing dialogue-some of Mozart's sublime creations set up a dramatic rivalry (the relatively early K. 271. for example. and the later K. 466, 467, 488. and 503). Yet many other mature Mozart concertos such as K. 414, 449. 453, 456, 459. and even his last work in the genre. K. 595 hew closer to the baroque ideal: all are basically intimate essays. And some concertos-and isolated episodes of still others resolutely defy pat classification.
The question is not so much whether to use a chamber ensemble or a full symphonic orchestra (as many musicians would have you think) for it is pretty much agreed that Mozart's orchestra was small by nineteenth-century standards: even such scores as K. 467 and 503 can be dealt with quite adequately with a reduced complement.
Nor is the issue really that of a division of roles between soloist and conductor: There are sound reasons for conducting these works from the keyboard, aesthetic as well as historical. (A greater stylistic unanimity can presumably be achieved by having the orchestra's role shaped by the same mind that governs the soloist's passagework.) But here is a crucial point: While the Mozart concertos may not all he motivated by the traditional rivalry be tween piano and orchestra, still, for all their chamber-music-like details, they are not chamber works. A dichotomy be tween solo and tutti must he maintained--and was maintained in most of the old-school performances, whether conducted from keyboard or podium. In Dohnan vis early version of the G major. K. 453 (reissued on Past Masters PM 8). and in Fischer's self-conducted 1953 live recording of K. 482 (Bruno Walter Society IGI 329). the soloist eventually dominates the orchestra, his belated en try reshaping the previously heard material with more freewheeling authority and subjectivity. In the Schnabel/Sargent K. 459, the pianist and conductor evidently had different notions about appoggiaturas, and the tactful rebuke. far from proving hurtful, injected a lively note into the dialogue. Ego was undoubtedly involved here, but it was turned to good effect (as it was not in the ragged Larghetto of Schnabel's K. 595 with Barbirolli).
Murray Perahia's unfolding concerto cycle for CBS is an interesting case: He is a topflight virtuoso, and his concert performances of many of these same concertos are stellar examples of the traditional approach in full sway. But the recordings offer an alternative way, that of the chamber music player par excellence. This is not to denigrate either the English Chamber Orchestra's execution (of high excellence despite some tendencies toward low-keyed flaccidity that a chauvinist might call typically "British") or Perahia's technical competence as a conductor. He elicits precise attacks and releases and judicious balances. But he doesn't think like a maestro: he seems al together more interested in sharing his views with his colleagues than in imposing his will upon them. His apparent total disinterest in domination makes some of the performances too civil and emotionally inconclusive. The sense of un fulfillment is most apparent in the works that need a touch of authoritarian drama: though his K. 466, 467, and 491 are certainly examples of high artistry, they are disappointing alongside his broadcast tapes of K. 466 (with Solti and the Chicago) and 467 (Maazel and the Cleveland) and his live account of K. 491 (with Musica Aeterna). In all three con cert performances, he played more assertively, with stormier inflections and much more powerful, cumulative phrase tensions. I hope that he will one day be given the opportunity to re-record some of the larger concertos on a grander scale.
Perahia's K. 482 is a total success.
While working within the imposed chamber music dimensions, he subtly suggests the needed element of expansive grandeur. Granted, the opening orchestral exposition lacks the full weight that Rodzinski, for example, achieved in his memorable New York Philharmonic broadcast with Landowska (Desmar IPA 106/7), but the sound is sturdier than the English Chamber Orchestra's norm for this series. CBS's sensible mastering with this lengthy work's Rondo allowed to spill onto the second side-doubtless lends a helping hand; the dynamic level is higher and the contrasts are more robust. Perahia's solo work here is an absolute delight, with a witty edge, an enlivening spontaneity, and for all its careful planning, a seemingly improvisatory freedom (a perfect demonstration of "freedom through discipline"). In K. 595, though, the performance is a hit cool emotionally, and there is an element of feathery preciosity (e.g., those barely audible, albeit beautifully articulated, runs accompanied by the whispered pizzicatos in the first movement).
In fairness, such details might have sounded magical rather than effete had surfaces been truly quiet; as it happens, pops and splutters from CBS's review copy rudely dissipate the mood. The two earlier concertos, K. 246 and 414, are rendered with grace and unpretentious finesse. Both are completely in the do main of the chamber orchestra and thus respond well to Perahia's intimate, elegant treatment.
Although Vasary's performances are nominally chamber-size, the combi nation of the pianist's taut, brilliant tone, the orchestra's ultra-disciplined execution, and DG's close (and consequently keen-edged) engineering gives a large-scaled, symphonic effect. The approach works splendidly in K. 537, the so-called Coronation Concerto. His red-blooded energy and champagne-like glitter fully realize the pomp while giving a clearer picture of the artfully concealed stature and substance. This interpretation, as impressive as any I've heard, causes me to re-examine my long-held opinion of the work as the coldest and most superficial of the late Mozart concertos. K. 449 is rendered in much the same manner, and here the result, for all its bite and expertise, is rather charmless and ham fisted. Moravec (Quintessence PMC 7107), Perahia (M 34219). Peter Serkin (RCA ARL 1-1492), and Rudolf Serkin (with the Busch Chamber Players on Turnabout THS 65058; with Alexander Schneider and the Columbia Symphony on CBS MS 6844) all offer more relaxed, lilting renditions of this essentially gracious work.
Emanuel Ax and Eduardo Mata give an excellent account of the D minor, K. 466, with the conventional division of roles. Ax, basically a lyrical player whose temperament impresses as solid rather than fiery. works up considerable vehemence and energy, particularly in the Rondo. Mata, by providing strong rhythmic pulse and a granitic sobriety, ably asserts and establishes the aura of classical order. K. 482 also gets off to a promising start, with the bassoon line even more solidly registered in the opening tutti than it is in the CBS edition: but despite the well-regulated poise of his passagework, Ax seems slightly more constricted here than in K. 466--altogether too circumscribed emotionally and a little too flat coloristically. Perhaps the work is a more recent addition to his repertoire. Though this is certainly an agreeable, musical performance, I miss the scintillation and freedom of the Perahia and Landowska editions. RCA's sound could stand more airiness and dynamic range, but the reproduction is well balanced and full of effective instrumental detail.
Turnabout offers a more resonant, spacious pickup for Klien and Skrowaczewski. Here, again, is a virile, "big orchestra" sound (though, in fact, these recordings are probably all made with reduced forces). Skrowaczewski's approach is strictly disciplined and tonally ample-a somewhat more genial variant of Szell's. He includes the "extra" bars in K. 595's first movement (as does Perahia) and in the same concerto, Klien (again in company with Perahia) fills out certain sparsely outlined phrases. The Austrian pianist, an experienced Mozart practitioner, attacks both concertos in a vigorous, assertive manner. While he sounds a bit hard-toned and lacks the finesse of Perahia, Curzon, or Gieseking, his cleanly delineated phrases and lack of sentimentality are welcome. The Turnabout pressing is first-class.
Klien utilizes Mozart's cadenzas, as does Vasary in the first movement of K. 449. Vasary plays his own interpolations in K. 537, as does Ax in K. 482. In K. 466, Ax opts, as did Perahia earlier, for Beethoven's cadenza in the first movement, but whereas Ax plays an abbreviated version of Hummel for that concerto's Rondo (it still goes on for too long), Perahia's original one smacks, ironically, of the bypassed Beethoven.
Perahia's cadenzas for K. 482 are "after Hummel," and in the remaining works, he plays Mozart's additions.
MOZART: La Finta giardiniera, K. 196; Idomeneo, K. 366. For a review, see page 50.
--------- Murray Perahia: a topflight virtuoso
MOZART: Sinfonia concertante for Oboe, Clarinet, Horn, and Bassoon, in E flat, K. 297b*; Idomeneo: Ballet Music, K. 367: Nos. 1, 2.
A Randall Wolfgang. oboe*: Jane Hamborsky, clarinet*: William Purvis, horn*; Frank Morelli, bassoon*; Orpheus Chamber Orchestra. [Judith Sherman. prod.] NONESUCH D 79009, $11.98 (digital recording). Tape: DI 79009. $11.98 (cassette).
A few years back, especially in Russia, conductor-less orchestras (including even some of large size) were in vogue. And for a time after Toscanini's death and the dissolution of the NBC Symphony, many of his players participated in the concerts and recordings of the conductor-less Symphony of the Air. As a rule, however, the practice is possible-over any considerable interval, at least-only for smaller, chamber orchestras. The leading example today is the Orpheus ensemble, some twenty-five members strong. Based in New York, it has per formed successfully worldwide since 1972.
This is the orchestra's debut recording, a most attractive one, both for its admirably blended, warmly eloquent Mozartean performances and for its no less admirable, translucent (Sony) digital sonics. Not the least heartening aspect of this post-Sterne-era Nonesuch production is its maintenance of high standards, not only artistic and technical, but musicological-in illuminating jacket notes that include full source and bibliographical information on the music. Annotator Derrick Henry is particularly interesting in discussing the long debate over just how much of the K. 297b Sinfonia concertante, as we know it, is Mozart's and how much the work of later editors.
Whatever changes-other than the substitution of clarinet for flute in the solo woodwind quartet-may have been made in the original 1778 version (the autograph copy of which has long been lost), they don't seriously alter the basic character of this engaging music or cloud the enjoyment of modern listeners. The work has been recorded often, usually with bigger-name soloists than the Opheus ensemble's own first-desk players.
(The 1974 Marriner/Academy version, Philips 6500 380, probably is a preferred connoisseur choice.) But among the more Romantically expressive (if not exaggeratedly so) interpretations, this one ranks quite high-indeed, at the very top for recording excellence. Its deftly played solo parts receive due prominence without obtrusive spotlighting.
Mozart dashed off the Idomeneo ballet music-those "confounded dances"-under pressure while the opera itself was already in rehearsal (January 1781). Orpheus plays the major part of it, the first two, much longer, sections, with even more verve and infectious relish, whetting one's appetite for a quick pro vision of the remaining three shorter movements. In both works, the disc edition has been processed at a fairly high level, but the modulation level of the ferric-tape cassette seems just right; in every other respect the two editions are sonically identical.
RAVEL: Daphnis et Chloe: Suite No. 2.
DEBUSSY: La Mer. A London Symphony Orchestra. Charles Mackerras. cond. [Victor E. Sachse and Clyde P. Rolston, prod.] CENTAUR CRC 1007.514.98 (digital recording) (Centaur Records. Inc., P.O. Box 23764, Baton Rouge. La. 70893).
RAVEL: Bolero*: Pavane pour une infante defunte--Daphnis et Chloe: Suite No. 2*. A St. Louis Symphony Chorus' and Orchestra, Leonard Slatkin. cond. [Robert Woods. prod.] TELARC DG 10052. $17.98 (digital recording). London Symphony Orchestra, Andre Previn. cond. [Suvi Raj Grubb* and Christopher Bishop". prod.] ANGEL SZ 37670. $9.98. Tape: 4ZS 37670. $9.98 (cassette).
RAVEL: Orchestral and Vocal Works. Nadine Denize, soprano*: Orchestre Philharmonique de Lille. Jean-Claude Casadesus. cond. HARMONIA MUNDI FRANCE HM 10.064. $10.98. Tape: 40.064. $10.98 (cassette).
(Distributed by Brilly Imports. 155 N. San Vicente Blvd. Beverly Hills. Calif. 90211.) Daphnis et Chloe: Suite No. 2. Pavane pour une infante defunte. Sheherazade.* Melodies Hebraiques.* RAVEL: Bolero; La Valse; Daphnis et Chloe: Suite No. r.
BR Halle Chorus' and Orchestra. John Barhirolli. cond. EVEREST 3471. $4.98. Tape: 3471. $5.98 (cassette). [*'From VANGUARD 177 SD. 1965.1 RAVEL: Bolero; Rapsodie espagnole; Alborada del gracioso.
A Dallas Symphony Orchestra. Eduardo Mata, cond. [Jay David Saks. prod.] RCA RED SESL ARC 1-3686. $11.98 (digital recording). Tape: ARK 1-3686. $9.98 (cassette).
One of the most striking of all the fabulous Diaghilev/ Ballets russes productions was the Daphnis et Chloe of June 8, 1912: yet now even the legendary Fokine choreography. Nijinsky and Karsavina dancing, and Bakst scenery and costume design have come to be almost completely eclipsed by the music of Maurice Ravel. Generally acclaimed as his magnum opus, the score remains unmatched in the whole orchestral repertory for its inspired reconciliation of seemingly conflicting elements (a pastoralism more of Versailles than of Greece against an orgiastic frenzy more Oriental than Attic) and even more for its kaleidoscopic tonal coloring and white-hot sonic incandescence. Properly "performed, not interpreted" (as the composer himself demanded) by an empathetic conductor with a large virtuoso orchestra and chorus, Daphnis et Chloe can be an in comparably thrilling experience, as much felt as heard.
---------- Orpheus: a conductor-less chamber orchestra in an impressive
debut recording.
Given such sonic luminosity and energy potentials (to say nothing of the electrical rhythms, ravishing melodic motifs, and melting harmonies!), it's scarcely surprising that this score has been unexcelled for testing and demonstrating the full color and power capacities of audio technology at each major stage of its development. Thus the mile stone recorded versions of the complete ballet: the 1955 stereo first by Charles Munch and the Bostonians for RCA Vic tor (not released on stereo disc until 1960); the 1975 quadriphonic firsts by Jean Martinon and the Orchestre de Paris (Angel S 37148) and by Pierre Boulez and the New York Philharmonic (CBS M 33523: available only in stereo); and the 1980 digitally recorded first by Eduardo Mata and the Dallas Sym phony (RCA ARC 1-3458).
No true Ravelian can be fully con tent with anything less than the complete score, of course, yet the work is most widely known in concert and on records by its Second Suite. This is not a concert condensation, but the unaltered third (last) section of the original work, different only in that the wordless choral parts may be replaced by instruments-at in calculable coloristic loss. It comprises three closely linked sections (with the ballet's poignantly yearning main motif heard in the first two): "Daybreak," at first iridescently shimmering, then resplendently expansive; "Pantomime," languorously sensual and antiquarian, with wayward, rhapsodic shepherd's piping (solo flute; later, the husky-voiced alto flute); and "General Dance." breathlessly whirling (5/4 time), whipped on by Scheherazadean trumpets in complete Dionysiac intoxication.
Ever since its legendary Koussevitzky/ Boston concert performance was first brought to records in late 1929 (sadly inadequate as mono recording technology and 78-rpm shellac discs were then), this suite has been a favorite of both the public, for its irresistible aural stimulations, and audiophiles, as a display vehicle for the most up-to-date playback systems. Now we are preferred (as if to "knit up the ravell'd sleave" of 1981 cares) a widely varied batch of five Second Suite recordings, providing further potent evidence of this glowing music's ability to italicize every distinctive strength (and weakness) of the different audio technologies, digital systems, and recording philosophies.
Let's begin by discarding the Barbirolli/Halle reissue, a coarsely recorded, prosaic performance (in its disc edition, poorly processed) commendable only for its inclusion of the choral parts. Neither of the other analog versions here includes a chorus, and one of them. Andre Previn's for Angel, leaves me cold. Its sonics, though acceptably warm and bright, aren't exceptional. and the stolidly contrived reading never catches fire.
The imported Harmonia Mundi release, however, is a multifaceted delight.
Young Jean-Claude Casadesus (yes, a relation of the French pianistic family) is patently a talent and personality of unlimited potential, and he lifts the Lille Philharmonic, which he has headed since 1976, well above the level expected of a provincial orchestra. His reading of the suite is idiomatic, sensitive, and infectiously zestful, with climaxes as dramatically fiery as in any earlier analog recording. Except for a suggestion of woodwind-solo spotlighting, the audio engineering is first-rate. I'd rank this near the top of the Second Suite analog discography--a bit below the 1971 Boulez/Cleveland version (CBS M 30651), which features a chorus and offers superior orchestral polish. But such quibbling is pointless, since this release is in any case a Ravelian must for its overside song cycles.
Which brings us to the two digital suites, which represent (like the earlier Mata complete ballet) an undeniable breakthrough into new sonic dimensions. To be sure, the recording of Charles Mackerras' London Symphony performance-superbly authoritative, evocative, and above all, dramatic--is slightly flawed by some over-resonant edging offf high strings and by a slightly dry acoustical ambience. But neither mi nor defect approaches the gravity of those in the earliest digitals, and in addition to the characteristic lucidity of inner details, there is well-nigh overpowering sonic weight, impact, and blazing incandescence. For sheer physical sensational ism, as well as perfectly proportioned realizations of both structural design and poetic eloquence, this Daphnis Suite is magnificent. All that's lacking are the choral parts and a genuine French ac cent.
Leonard Slatkin and his St. Louis Symphony also lack the accent, but in most other respects, they and their Telarc engineering (Soundstream digital) are strong just where the Centaur forces and engineering (system unspecified) are relatively weak. There is a most atmospherically evocative and (in the "Danse generale") urgent chorus: the sonics match the upper-register sweetness and overall warmth of the best recent digitals: and if young Slatkin doesn't demonstrate as tautly assured control as the veteran Mackerras, he and many of his players bring more grace, personal relish, and above all, disarming freshness to their performance. Though not quite as spectacular as the Centaur, for many listeners this version may well prove more seductive.
Since the Second Daphnis et Chloe Suite runs fairly short (Mackerras, 15:35: Slatkin. 15:50; Previn. 17:13: Casadesus, 17:20), these programs are filled out with other selections--all by Ravel, except for Debussy's La Mer on the Mackerras/Centaur disc. That war rants almost exactly the same high praise and relatively slight reservations as his Ravel: The emphasis is less on the work's expected impressionistic pictorialism than on its symphonic integration and dramatic grip, too often slighted, which belie the composer's own ironic subtitle, "three symphonic sketches." Though I still cling to the more warmly poetic and Gallic 1976 account by Martinon (Angel S 37067), this is surely the most robust and stormy since Toscanini's of 1950--and how that reading needed the digital sonics exploited so effectively by Mackerras! The most frequent program addition is of course the warhorse Bolero here in two negligible analog and two first-rate (interpretatively as well as sonically) digital recordings. The Barbirolli/ Everest Bolero is as perfunctory as his Daphnis Second Suite and La Valse. It probably dates from about 1965 also but apparently wasn't then given U.S. release. The cassette edition, though quieter than the disc, awkwardly splits La Valse between two sides. Previn's Bolero is tiresomely draggy ( 17:15!), with over size solos and brutal vehemence toward the end. In marked contrast, Slatkin (16:16) offers fresh verve and consistent grace, with woodwind and brass solos that, though deftly rhapsodic and distinctively colored, are more uniformly phrased and freer from individual mannerisms than almost any I've encountered.
And in an entirely separate program from those featuring the Daphnis Suite, Mata and the Dallas Symphony present a gleamingly crystalline digital Bolero that, without ever seeming pressed or hurried, is brisk (14:47) and enlivened by a quite electrical sense of urgency. It is coupled with perhaps the highest-voltage Alborada del gracioso on record, plus a crisply etched Rapsodie espagnole: in the latter ... only the quieter lyrical moments have been done more magically by others. These surprisingly French-flavored performances and ultra-vivid sonics are captured-somewhat to my surprise--every bit as well in the ferric-tape cassette edition (the digital origins of which aren't even acknowledged in. the labeling) as on the disc.
Then there are several new attempts at the Pavane (written for. some readers may need to be reminded, a dead princess, not a dead infant), the haunting little elegy that despite--or perhaps be cause of-its simplicity is rarely played satisfactorily. Previn's version simply plods: Casadesus's, disappointingly stodgy, suffers also from blowsy solo horn qualities: Slatkin's relaxed vet flowing reading and Telarc's richly warm digital recording are far more pleasing, although there have been even more Romantically evocative interpretations and horn playing in the past.
But the prize added attraction here is the second side of the Harmonia Mundi disc. That stars the Paris (and Met) Opera soprano Nadine Denize in two Ravel song cycles: the incantatory Deux Melodies Hebrdiques of 1914 and the better-known Sheherazade of 1903, with its incomparably exotic Oriental sorcery in the long first song. "A sie." Denize's huskily seductive voice and exquisitely subtle yet tautly controlled artistry--enhanced by well-nigh ideal orchestral playing and recording-combine to make these versions ineffably moving. Helpfully accompanied by the original texts, they warrant ranking right up with, if not above, the finest of even the most memorable earlier recordings.
SAINT-SANES: Introduction and Rondo capriccioso, Op. 28-See Sibelius: Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 47.
SIBELIUS: Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, in D minor, Op. 47. BRUCH: Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, No. 1, in G minor, Op. 26. Shizuka Ishikawa. violin: Brno State Philharmonic Orchestra. Jiri Belohlavek. cond. [Jan Vrana. prod.] SUPRAPHON 1110 2289. $9.98.
SIBELIUS: Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, in D minor, Op. 47.
SAINT-SAENS: Introduction and Rondo capriccioso, Op. 28. A Dylana Jenson. violin: Philadelphia Orchestra. Eugene Ormandy. cond. [Jay David Saks. prod.] RCA RED SEAL ATC 1-3972.515.98 (digital recording). Tape: ATK 1-3972. 515.98 (cassette).
SIBELIUS: Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, in D minor, Op. 47.
SIN-DING: Suite for Violin and Orchestra, in A minor, Op. 10. Itzhak Perlman. violin: Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. Andre Previn. cond. [Suvi Raj Grubb. prod.] ANGEL SZ 37663. 59.98. Tape: 4ZS 37663. 59.98 (cassette).
Over the years, the Sibelius violin concerto has become part of the standard repertory, and in the process of assimilation. a facile expertise has gradually re placed the sense of magnitude and aspiration that characterized some of the distinguished early interpretations (even, to a degree, the incandescent reading by Heifetz and Beecham. still unsurpassed in virtuosity). These performances are fairly typical: all three show musicality and technical brilliance, yet where is the challenge. the nobility of spirit? Only one. the version by the twenty-seven-year-old Japanese virtuoso Shizuka Ishikawa, compensates for the reduced framework and lack of epic power with real lyric intensity.
Ishikawa's playing has a patrician sensitivity and a fine-spun involvement that are affecting and surprisingly apt.
Even more than in her recent Tchaikovsky (Supraphon 1110 2460. February), her small-scaled but magnificently accurate playing has rapt concentration and an altogether convincing intimacy. The first two movements are especially captivating: and though the finale seemed a bit rushed and matter-of fact on first hearing, it, too, proved more convincing with greater familiarity. The Bruch G minor, in Ishikawa's hands, has lovely intimacy and taut grace. The Brno State Philharmonic may be no world-class ensemble, but under Jiri Belohlavek, it supplies discreet, tonally solid support. Moreover, the Supraphon recording, engineered with slight acerbity and cleanly etched detail, is the most interesting of the three sonically. (For a musician. telling instrumental clarity and relevant detail are always more interesting than smooth homogeneity and cosmetic gloss.) By any reckoning, this is a distinguished release.
------------- Dylana Jenson, a promising youngster, at Sibelius sessions
with Eugene Ormandy.
Dylana Jenson may not have quite the lapidarian technical polish and interpretive character that Ishikawa manages, but the nineteen-year-old American's debut is nonetheless promising. Sup ported by Eugene Ormandy's solid accompaniment and the Philadelphia's heft, she already shows an impressive command of executant problems, and much of her performance has appealing honesty and sincerity (particularly the Adagio. which she declaims with a firm, dark tone and an openhearted lack of sentimentality). This is one of the first re leases in RCA's premium-priced audiophile series, pressed in Germany by Teldec: the processing is indeed superlative, with absolutely silent surfaces and even, undistorted response. But the digital sound is a hit too homily, with in sufficient light and shade to "dig the sound out.- The flute's relevant comments are audible vet ever so discreet, and the timpani thwack announcing the third movement's second subject is similarly relegated to the background. Part of the problem may be Ormandy's generalized view of Sibelius' scoring, for the Saint-Satins makeweight has more compelling definition. It, too, is excellently and straightforwardly played.
Both ltzhak Perlman and Andre Previn have recorded the Sibelius before: the violinist for RCA about fourteen years ago with Erich Leinsdorf and the Boston Symphony ( AG I. 1-1529), the conductor with Kyung-Wha Chung in her debut for London (CS 6710). For all its expertise and tine recorded sound, the new performance remains rather tensionless. Perlman's tempos have broadened considerably, and in place of his earlier cool objectivity, he cultivates an eclectic romanticism that generates warmth like an electric blanket. He has developed a slight but annoying mannerism, stretching phrases with a predictable rubato, and he uses somewhat more vibrato than he used to, which adds to the impression of well-regulated routine.
Previn, too, did better the first time around: without Ormandy's compensating solidity of bass, he puts detail into soft focus and smoothes away the grit of Sibelius' orchestration to the music's detriment. This is by no means a coarse, over-expressive reading like those of Zukerman/ Barenhoim ( DG 2530 552). Belkin/ Ashkenazy ( London CS 7181), or Fontanarosa/Talmi (Peters PI.E 074), but it lacks the diamond-hard bite and character of such versions as the classic Heiletr/ Beecham (Seraphim 60221) and the more recent Accardoi Davis (Philips 9500 675). In fact, the coupling is worthier than the mainstay: Perlman's Sinding is almost as breathtaking as the unique Heifetz/Wallenstein mono account if a shade gentler-perhaps a plus in the lyrical movements but not in the first, with its hustling moto perpetuo.
SINKING: Suite for Violin and Orchestra, in A minor, Op. 10-See Sibelius: Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 47.
------------------
Recitals and Miscellany
LE CHANSONNIER CORDIFORME.
Emma Kirkby. soprano: Margaret Philpot. alto: John York Skinner. countertenor: John Fiske.. tenor: David Thomas. bass. Consort of Musicke. Anthony Roole. dir. (Morten Winding. prod.] (list at'-f.viu D 156D4. $39.92 (four discs. manual sequence).
The Consort of Musicke has recently completed its long and important series of the music of John Dowland in Oiseau Lyre's Florilegium series. Unlike the Academy of Ancient Music on the same label, it has not rushed off into popular fields like Handel and Mozart that guarantee large sales: its activities in earlier music are altogether quieter. Indeed, it is not always easy to obtain the Consort's new releases-which include music by William Lawes and two line recitals called--My Lady Musick--and "Pastoral Dialogues"- in this country.
One new boxed set has arrived, however. Le Chansonnier cordiforme is devoted to a complete recording of one manuscript of medieval music. The prospect sounds daunting. yet this is a most unusual manuscript, and it makes an exceptionally rewarding set of records. The most immediately attractive aspect of the manuscript is not musical, but visual: It is shaped like a heart and. when opened, looks like two hearts linked in love. As David Fallows, who supervised the recording and wrote the excellent booklet, remarks, this image is central to the music of the period. It looks as if this was not a manuscript to perform from, but a fair copy made as a keepsake for a nobleman: Jean de Montchenu, bishop, politician, and warrior. It probably comes from the time when he was associated with the house of Savoy, an important center of fifteenth-century song.
Because it was compiled to include all the favorite songs in the current repertory, several classics appear, and there is remarkably little dead wood. Dufay.
Busnois, and. Ockeghem are represented: there are some anonymous set tings, some that are difficult to attribute, and some by that fascinating group of continentally oriented English composers, Robert Morton. Walter Frye, and John Bedvngham. Most songs date from the decade before the manuscript was compiled, around 1470, but some go hack forty years earlier. Italian songs come first, then French: they tell of the joys and pains of courtly love with an unrestrained depth of feeling.
The performances mirror the seriousness and intensity of the music. There is no attempt at kaleidoscopic variety of color, an instrumentation is established for each song and retained throughout.
Voices are used solo or in pairs; they include the bright eloquent soprano of Emma Kirkby and the dark reedy bass of David Thomas (a little restrained here for my taste), both familiar from other Consort recordings. A most welcome newcomer is the alto Margaret Philpot, with a rounded. intense, and direct voice that provides some of the most beautiful moments of the set in Frye's "Tout a par nun' and Morton's "Le souvenir de vous me tue." The Consort is joined by a group of instrumentalists who play clearly and with restraint, cannot judge the finer points of the performance or of the editions used, but the set as a whole seems to me a model of what the recording of medieval music and early music generally--should aim at: a thorough exploration of one re warding repertory, which allows us to enter into its spirit and to live and breathe, for a moment, the musical life of one short time in history. One reservation: There is only a single reproduction in color of a page from the cordi-form manuscript, on the cover, and the black-and-white ones are too small to read. We must hope that a complete facsimile will appear, perhaps when Fallows issues the music in the editions of the late Comtesse de Chambure, which he is preparing for publication.
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Theater and Film
THE FINAL COUNTDOWN. Original motion-picture soundtrack recording. Composed, conducted, and produced by John Scott. CASABLANCA NBLP 7232, $7.98.
ZULU DAWN. Original film score composed by Elmer Bernstein. Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Elmer Bernstein, cond. [Richard Jones and Mark Elliott, prod.] CERBERUS CST 0201. $7.98.
CARNY. Original motion-picture soundtrack recording. Composed and produced by Alex North and Robbie Robertson. WARNER Bros. HS 3455. $8.98. Tape: W5 3455. $8.98 (cassette).
These three releases bear out my firm conviction that there is no necessary correlation between the significance and quality of film music and its dramatic vehicle; in fact, they indicate that some of the better musical efforts grow out of the most inconspicuous and unpromising origins. Zulu Dawn has yet to be mentioned-let alone distributed-in this country. Carny was savaged and quickly submerged by the critics, and The Final Countdown received but faint and con descending praise. These records might never come to the attention of the public until they become rarities, which will happen soon enough in any case.
John Scott is a multifaceted English musician with a background in jazz arranging and anonymous production mu sic. He has tackled such varied fare as the film adaptation of Graham Greene's England Made Me and an English-made Charlton Heston treatment of Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra, never re leased here. For Final Countdown, an American film that casually throws together several genres-war drama, super natural thriller, science-fiction speculation--into an unlikely yet ultimately provocative mixture, he provides an expansive, diversified score of genuine symphonic mettle (most of which. in the film. is drowned out by the roar of air plane engines and the explosion of ammunition). From the measured, chauvinistic main-title tune to the pounding ostinatos and glissando-like effects for the numerous action sequences, he offers an aurally satisfying compendium of the many sophisticated devices used so effectively by better-known film composers such as John Williams and Jerry Goldsmith. Scott clearly has talent and expertise in abundance; the only element lacking is a profile of his own, which may evolve in time.
It's a pleasure to see such a seasoned and respected film-music veteran as Elmer Bernstein once again rising to a novel challenge with his uncompromisingly symphonic score for Zulu Dawn, an English historical drama set during the days of waning imperial glory. For this "African western," he takes the basic components of his tried and--true Magnificent Seven sound, strips them of their American overtones, and skillfully grafts them onto a new locale.
Making brilliant use of the African melos and its instrumental colors, as well as a barbaric warrior chorus, he unfolds a spectacular panorama: clashes between armed hordes, with relentless Stravinskian rhythms; ingoistic marches; and delicate nature-painting, with woodwind and harp filigrees. The first-class performance and recording come from an enterprising new label, which has also issued two highly ac claimed Ennio Morricone scores, Days of Heaven and La Cage aux folles.
Alex North is another front-rank film composer whose recent assignments have not always called upon all of his gifts, but the second side of Carny (Side 1 is all low-down rhythm-and-blues attributed primarily to collaborator Robbie Robertson) demonstrates that he hasn't lost his inimitable touch. Using an assertive contrabassoon, a wayward calliope, the cacophonous chatter of an agile woodwind choir, and what sounds like an electric accordion, the score--basic ally chamber music--recalls his Streetcar Named Desire and Rainmaker music:
Despite its sharply etched evocation of a sleazy milieu, ambivalent passion, and edgy despair, it still retains the poignancy of his lyrical compassion. The orchestrations of Henry Brant and Angela Morley are marvelously pointed and apt, and the recording is more than adequate.
All three of these interesting though unheralded discs will amply reward the intrepid collector and are highly recommended.
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(High Fidelity, USA print magazine)
Also see:
The Critics Go Speaker Shopping [June 1981]