Daniele Gatti is a
conductor who, whether fairly or not,
has developed something of a reputation
as an excitement-seeker, at the opposite
end of the conducting spectrum from,
say, Bernard Haitink. Is this charge
of sensation-seeking justified?
Well, Respighi is hardly
the composer to help him out! After
all, the works on this CD, which together
comprise the composer’s Roman triptych,
are truly sensational, in that Respighi
concentrates on sensual impressions;
this music makes a visceral impact on
our emotions, without the need for very
much cerebral interference. So you have
to abandon yourself to it. And that,
in a sense, makes Gatti the ideal interpreter,
for he and the Santa Cecilia orchestra
go for broke in giving the music its
expressive and pictorial head. The temperament
helps; Gatti and his players have the
surge of Latin adrenalin that is needed,
and the result is a heady experience.
That is not to say
that the playing lacks subtlety; the
first of the Fountains has the utmost
delicacy, with very sensitive quiet
wind playing. The complex textures of
I pini di Villa Borghese, with
their stylistic nod to the Stravinsky
of Petroushka, are brought to
glittering life with great clarity.
At the other extreme, I have never heard
the gloom and oppressiveness of the
second movement, a compelling description
of pines near a catacomb, characterised
more strongly.
The recording is a
huge help; the RCA engineers have managed
to achieve a wonderful sense of perspective,
so that the trumpets near the beginning
of Circenses in Feste Romane,
an intimidating picture of Christians
facing death by lion in the Circus Maximus,
ring out as if from on high. One small
disadvantage is that, like many modern
recordings, it has a startlingly wide
dynamic range, such that it is quite
difficult to set a level that enables
you to hear clearly the very soft music,
yet not get blown into next door’s sitting-room
in the tuttis! I managed though.
Then there’s that nightingale;
at the very end of the 3rd
movement of Pini di Roma, a sensuous
nocturnal evocation, Respighi asks for
a recording of an actual nightingale
song to be played very softly. I’ve
always felt that this was a mistake,
which only serves to irritate and distract
at the close of one of the composer’s
loveliest creations (and how like Delius
it is!). Others may feel differently,
and at least the engineers have kept
it very discreet.
Finally, to return
to Gatti’s alleged seeking of short-term
musical goals; the finale of Pini,
that outrageously magnificent portrayal
of the victorious Roman army returning
along the Via Appia, is actually built
up in the most impressive way. Rather
than let everything fly at the first
tutti (as Muti does, for example, in
his Philadelphia recording, fine thought
that is), Gatti just keeps building
up and up, so the effect is thrilling
and overwhelming.
So my doubts had all
faded away by the end of this. We do
not think of Italy as the natural home
of great orchestral playing, but there
is no denying the brilliance of the
Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia.
This version of the triptych is going
to take some beating – as to Gatti,
sensational, yes, but that’s meant as
a compliment!
Gwyn Parry-Jones
Orchestra dell’Accademia Nazionale di Santa
Cecilia/Daniele Gatti