EMI really do go for reissues in a big way. Remember their cleverly
titled twofer series Double Forte? Well, for some reason they
have decided to repackage these discs as Geminis. I’m not complaining,
especially when the reissues include this all-Penderecki programme,
but Naxos have gone one better with their own Penderecki series,
all of it newly recorded. The latter, as yet incomplete, includes
a fine recording of the Te Deum under Antoni Wit (see review).
On Christmas Eve
1979 Penderecki abandoned the idea of a four- or five-movement
symphony in favour of a single-movement work that would quote
the Christmas carol Silent Night. For those who know
the composer’s more avant-garde pieces, such as the celebrated
Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima, this Christmas
Symphony may come as a surprise. From the distant drum-rolls
at the start to that first string tune it’s clear this is a
warmly expressive work which, if anything, hints at late Shostakovich,
especially in the way the music builds to the first climax at
2:40. Thereafter the symphony speaks with its own, unmistakable
accent – just listen to that broad theme that surfaces at 4:43,
thrillingly underpinned by the timps and brass.
This is just one
of many memorable moments in this beguiling work. Thankfully
the recording is warm and spacious – not a given with some of
EMI’s reissues – and that adds enormously to one’s enjoyment
of this symphony. In particular the strings have plenty of bloom,
the percussion is well caught and the bass is firmly focused.
And although composers aren’t always the best interpreters of
their own work Penderecki shapes the music most persuasively,
finding plenty of light and shade along the way. Even in the
tuttis there’s no sign of the composer in monumental mode –
just sample the peroration that begins at 21:02 – although there
are hints of a more angular orchestral style at times. There
are no hard edges anywhere; indeed, this piece will surely
appeal to those looking for an unthreatening entrée to Penderecki’s
work.
The Te Deum,
written to celebrate the anointment of Pope John Paul II, is
divided into three parts, but you wouldn’t know that from the
EMI disc, which only has one cue and no accompanying texts.
The Naxos recording cues each part separately and provides
the all-important words. In some ways the more measured EMI
performance is preferable to Wit’s which, although it’s powerfully
projected, sounds episodic at times.. And yes the opening timp
rolls don’t sound quite so menacing under Penderecki’s but his
singers are generally more cleanly focused than Wit’s.
Recorded in 1983
this Te Deum has plenty of detail – listen out for the
bells at 9:09 – as well as a sense of scale, but Wit is undeniably
dramatic in the craggier second part, with its martial bass
drum and febrile singing. By contrast Penderecki’s own reading
can sound under-characterised at this point, although I feel
his remains the more subtle of the two performances. He finds
telling details in the score, not to mention a more natural
ebb and flow. As for the quartet of soloists neither is ideal,
although Penderecki’s tenor, Wiesław Ochman, is the steadiest
and most characterful of them all.
In the hushed choral
opening to Part 3 Wit’s singers are placed a long way back,
as if heard from afar, which is certainly effective; Penderecki’s
choir is also fairly recessed but they are the more intense
and moving of the two. Again it’s Wit who makes the most of
the great choral and orchestral outbursts, as if underlining
Penderecki’s avant-garde credentials. I suppose it depends what
you want from this Te Deum, raw energy or something a
little cooler but no less dramatic. I’m inclined to go with
the latter, and I suspect most new listeners will prefer it
too.
The 1980s marked
a turning point in Poland’s history, with the eventual collapse
of the country’s Communist Party in 1989. As early as 1980 the
newly formed Solidarity trade union commissioned Penderecki
to write a piece commemorating the 10th anniversary
of the Gdansk uprising, in which 28 people died. As Peter Avis
explains in his liner notes the Lacrimosa was recorded
and played through loudspeakers at the unveiling of a memorial
to the dead. The work was then premiered in Kraków later that
day, Antoni Wit leading the Polish Radio orchestra and chorus.
One can only imagine the effect this austerely beautiful piece
must have had on the assembled mourners. Soprano Jadwiga Gadulanka,
the soprano soloist then and now, sings the words of the Requiem
sequence with heartfelt eloquence. The chorus are similarly
affecting. A haunting work that’s well worth hearing.
A world away from
Polish politics is another religious setting, the Magnificat,
written to celebrate the 1200th anniversary of the
cathedral in Salzburg, Austria. The words of the Virgin Mary
– ‘My soul doth magnify the Lord’ – are set to music that looks
unflinchingly towards Penderecki’s avant-garde style. It begins
with an extraordinary shawm-like call that is soon augmented
by the shimmer of percussion and the entry of the chorus. The
orchestral glissandi, familiar from his earlier works, are sparingly
– but effectively – used. Penderecki cleverly splices ancient
and modern, so the strong liturgical element – and that elusive
sense of timelessness – are never subsumed by his compositional
processes.
The choral writing
is similarly individual, spiralling upwards and fragmenting,
sometimes more of a wail than a chant. The orchestral accompaniment
is kept to a bare minimum, mostly declamatory, the massed voices
bright and clear. The second part is darker, with almost inaudible
drum beats and what seems like a wordless choir in the far distance.
It’s highly atmospheric, and very different to the Passacaglia,
with its tolling orchestral shards and choral glissandi. This
is much spikier than anything we’ve heard thus far and some
may find Penderecki’s swooping and swooning choral style a challenge
too far. That said, it’s an oddly compelling work, with antiphonal
effects thrown in for good measure.
Part 4 opens with
some lovely sustained choral singing that grows into a long,
steady glissando before fading to silence. It’s one of many
theatrical effects in this work that never seem to distract
from the thrust of the piece as a whole. Yes, this final part
may be a little short on inspiration but the choral ‘Glorias’
are certainly glorious. As I’ve remarked before the success
of these collections depends on good programming, and although
the Magnificat may not have the broad appeal of the Christmas
Symphony it does at least show the composer at his most
rigorous. As for the sound it’s pretty good for 1975, although
the extreme treble is inclined to glare and the more concentrated
choral sections do sound rather fierce.
Kanon, the
earliest composition on this set, is also the most obviously
experimental. The pulsing primitivism of the piece is hard to
resist but I was disconcerted when the right channel disappeared
and then the left, only to return later. This ping-pong stereophony
must have been fun in the early days but now it just sounds
contrived.
An interesting collection,
offering both accessible and more difficult works at a price
that should encourage curious listeners. Penderecki fans will
probably have the earlier Double Forte set and will no doubt
lament the lack of decent liner notes – and texts – in both.
Come on EMI, if Naxos can do it at this price point why can’t
you?
Dan Morgan
Jadwiga Gadulanka
(soprano) (2, 3); Ewa Podles (mezzo) (2); Wiesław Ochman (tenor)
(2); Andrzej Hiolski (baritone) (2) 
