The ‘Leningrad’ is
a notoriously difficult work to bring
off convincingly. Gergiev on Philips
470 845-2 (with the combined Kirov and
Rotterdam orchestras) makes a fairly
good case; of live accounts, Masur reminded
us how excellent he can be live when
in June 2000 he brought the New York
Philharmonic to the Barbican.
Following hard on the
heels of his disc of the same composer’s
Fifth and Sixth Symphonies (Arts 47668-2:
see
my review), Caetani on the enigmatically-priced
Arts label presents the Orchestra Sinfonica
di Milano Giuseppe Verdi in this work
that hovers on the verge of being a
masterpiece. The orchestra clearly gives
its all (climaxes are hardly shied away
from), yet the impression is that the
players clutch at the music, trying
to get inside it, without ever really
getting there. The opening is hardly
of determined gait; but if that is initially
unsettling, the brass and timpani ‘comments’
to the theme are subdued in the extreme.
Ascending scales about a minute in closely
resemble practice exercises, and the
scene is well and truly set for an interpretation
well and truly lacking in depth. The
famous extended crescendo needs a conductor
with a very refined ear (and rehearsal
time in spades). Maybe neither was on
offer here, as the final composed-out
gesture falls flat on its face. The
sinuous, invidious curling brass lines
that slink around the repeated theme
around 13 minutes in have little of
the frighteningly menacing about them,
speaking instead with a rather inappropriate
Italianate literalism.
If strings are acceptable
in the spiky second movement and wind
contributions are fine, the world of
the grotesque remains just out of grasp.
The third movement Adagio plods along
because of Caetani’s lack of long-range
hearing. So, despite a desolate flute
duet (around 5 minutes) and some good
pianissimi, the various parts
fail to gel. Again, the finale is ultimately
uninvolving (it is by this stage very
hard to believe that this is a live
performance – what frisson there was
has jumped ship!). It is perhaps inevitable,
therefore, that the ending does not
come off, despite the decibel level.
Everything about this reading seems
mediocre. The playing is often ‘quite’
good, textures are ‘quite’ well defined,
but Caetani routinely fails to evoke
an exact mood and never, never draws
the listener in.
Colin Clarke