You know just how it is. You wait ages
for a bus – and then two come along at the same time! I
guess that this very welcome new release from Vasily
Petrenko and the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra,
following on quite soon after
Vladimir
Jurowski’s successful recording of
Manfred with
the London Philharmonic Orchestra (LPO0009) is a little
like that.
In fact, even though it
now appears
to be thought an effective calling-card for young tyro
conductors showing off their skills with their new orchestras,
Manfred remains
among the less frequently recorded of Tchaikovsky’s scores. And
even when it
has been recorded, it has sometimes
been subjected to some pretty drastic cuts in the finale – timed
at 20:32 on this new recording - especially so in the
days when stellar conductors could get away with greater
wilfulness.
Toscanini’s finale, for instance, clocked
in at just 13:04, in his 1940 Studio 8H broadcast, or
13:26 when he recorded the work at Carnegie Hall nine
years later - timings that, incidentally, convincingly
refute two generalisations often made about him – that
he never tampered with scores and that he consistently
produced faster accounts as he got older. Similarly,
Paul
Kletzki’s much-admired account from 1954 (Testament SBT1048) cut the
last movement to 16:00, though I must point out that
my colleague Ian Lace, for one, thought the excisions
justified on the grounds that they were of “lugubrious
material that adds little and loosens the tension”.
As already noted, though, this new Naxos recording
gives us the complete score and,
pace Ian, at
the same time retains the tension. It is all the more
welcome for that. It offers, moreover, convincing proof
of the orchestra’s rejuvenation under its young principal
conductor appointed in 2006, Vasily Petrenko. Some of
the reviews that the orchestra had been generating in
the early part of the decade were, after all, positively
embarrassing. After an April 2004 performance of Mahler’s
fifth symphony under Petrenko’s predecessor Gerard Schwarz
at the Philharmonic Hall,
The Guardian’s critic
Pauline Fairclough opined that “there were moments when the RLPO strings truly sounded like
a school orchestra, slouching their way through even
the Adagietto ... Rarely has a 60-strong string section
sounded quite so feeble… [T]his performance … [was]
one of the most inglorious occasions in the RLPO's recent
history.”
Since then – and helped too,
it must be noted, by a huge injection of cash – Petrenko,
widely acknowledged as a conductor who both inspires
his musicians and brings fresh insight to even the most
familiar and hackneyed works, has shaken things up considerably. Audiences
are now bigger – and they are generally younger. And,
if this
Manfred is a good indication of what is
going on, that is not so hard to understand.
Manfred poses particular
problems, it is often said, because of its specific narrative “programme”. Any
difficulties are relative easily overcome in the first
three movements where the programme is quite generalised
and concerned with atmosphere rather than specific action. They
really surface, however, in the finale where Tchaikovsky’s
determination to follow the explicit requirements of
the “story” can impede the musical flow - so explaining
those drastic cuts imposed in the past by no doubt well-meaning
conductors.
Petrenko triumphs, however,
in navigating the fine line between compelling drama
and superficial melodramatics with notable success. Within
a comparatively weighty interpretation, he skilfully
utilises the RLPO’s plangent orchestral palette - the
woodwinds are especially impressive - to emphasise the
score’s darker elements of foreboding and maintain its
emotional tension. This he does even at points where
other conductors have compromised its integrity by seeking
to lighten the mood.
What is particularly impressive
from the outset is the way in which Petrenko moulds a
strong sense of anticipation - and even an element of
mystery - while resisting any temptation to dawdle. At
about 4:30, for instance he presses on dramatically where
others frequently linger. Similarly, at 6:14 he encourages
the horn player to eschew anything that sounds backward-looking
and nostalgic: after all, nostalgia at only six minutes
in, even if it
is supposed to represent the central
character’s feelings of remorse, doesn’t really make
a great deal of musical sense. Paradoxically, Petrenko
skilfully manipulates his orchestra’s rich and full overall
sound - well above school orchestra standards now! – to
create a more than usually bleak and desolate musical
climate so that even Tchaikovsky’s occasional consolatory
phrases seem essentially empty. The controlled power
he applies to the movement’s final orchestral peroration
is most impressive.
The skittish, almost balletic
opening of the second movement,
vivace con spirito,
is very well executed. Petrenko again digs beneath the
superficial, managing to convey the idea that there is
something a little uncomfortable here, thereby maintaining
that all-important emotional tension established in the
first movement. The first entrance of the lyrical theme
at 2:54 is done with just a hint of reserve, for example,
remaining unresolved until its more obviously joyous
reappearance at 4:58.
A more languorous than usual
opening to the beautifully played slow movement sets
the tone for something rather more contemplative than
we are necessarily used to. Although the tempo picks
up a little from 5:03 onwards, the movement’s final section
is notably slow and has a peculiarly edgy and slightly
disturbing quality to it, much of a piece with what has
gone on before.
There is a similar reticence
at the opening of the finale, not as fiercely attacked
as in some rival accounts. That holding-back, followed
by relatively controlled
tempi successfully racks
up the tension in preparation for that problematic fugue. As
a result, the latter emerges as less of the proverbial
protruding sore thumb here than is often the case. Creative
use of wide dynamics – and especially of silence – adds
to the strangely unsettling and uncomfortable atmosphere
and makes one wonder exactly what sort of stop-go bacchanal
Tchaikovsky is trying to depict.
Coming to
The Voyevoda,
at first it appears that Petrenko and his forces are
offering simply a very well played performance of a straightforward
and relatively unchallenging piece. But what they do
with it from about 9:34 onwards is quite remarkable,
with what sounds like a complete and dramatically overpowering
orchestral meltdown that exactly fits the bleakly depressing
storyline of an adulterous wife and a husband driven
to attempt her murder. These expertly performed final
few moments raise this to far more than a mere makeweight
track.
I have never heard Petrenko
in the flesh but, on the basis of this disc, I can see
what the critics are getting at.
Manfred may
never be able to overcome its inherent flaws and inconsistencies
- Tchaikovsky himself called it “an abominable piece” while
Leonard Bernstein is said to have dismissed it as “trash” -
but what we have here is a coherent and consistent overall
conception that that does its very best for the score. On
top of that, the revitalised Liverpool orchestra plays
with both flair and sensitivity and the Philharmonic
Hall’s generous acoustic has been well served by producer
Tim Handley and his team.
If you have not yet bought
Vladimir Jurowski’s London Philharmonic Orchestra disc,
then – given the fact that Petrenko offers the extra
treat of
The Voyevoda – you might choose this
new release instead. If you do, you will certainly not
be disappointed. Alternatively, though, given Naxos’s
usual bargain price, you might well be tempted instead
to catch
both those late-arriving buses for, in
their individual ways, they each offer exciting and illuminating
journeys.
Rob Maynard
Royal
Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra/Vasily Petrenko 
