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             Russian Ballet Music  
              Nikolai RIMSKY-KORSAKOV (1844-1908) 
                
              1. Scheherazade, Op.35 (1988) [45:21] 
              Aram KHACHATURIAN (1903-1978) 
                
              2. Extracts from Spartacus (1950-54) [32:17] 
              3. Extracts from Gayaneh (1939-42) [26:21] 
              Alexander GLAZUNOV (1865-1936) 
                
              4. The Seasons, Op.67 (1899) [41:10]  
              Dmitry SHOSTAKOVICH (1906-1975) 
                
              5. Extracts from The Golden Age, Op.22 (1929) [8:15]  
              6. Tahiti Trot [3:36] 
                
              Philadelphia Orchestra/Richardo Muti; rec. February 1982, Old Met, 
              Philadelphia DDD (1) 
              London Symphony Orchestra /Aram Khachaturian; rec. February 1977, 
              Abbey Road, London ADD (2) 
              Royal Philharmonic Orchestra/Yuri Temirkanov; rec. November1983 
              and Februrary 1985, Abbey Road, London DDD (3) 
              Philharmonia Orchestra/Evgeny Svetlanov; rec. October 1977, Abbey 
              Road, London ADD (4) 
              Philharmonia Orchestra/Robert Irving; rec. June 1960, Kingsway Hall, 
              London ADD (5) 
              Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France/Paavo Järvi; rec. 
              December 2002 and June 2003, Radio France, Paris DDD (6) 
                
              EMI CLASSICS 9498242  [77:48 + 79:37]   
             
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                  This is one of twenty or so sets of ballet music recently reissued 
                  by EMI as their “Ballet Edition”. As EMI was always the leader 
                  in the ballet area, they have ample resources from which to 
                  pick and choose.  
                   
                  It is funny that in an album entitled “Russian Ballet Music” 
                  most of the works featured are either not ballets, or not Russian, 
                  or both. Nonetheless it makes for an excellent collection of 
                  imaginative music, in solid, colorful performances. The compilation 
                  allows enough diversity and the filling is generous. Some may 
                  find old friends; some may make new and exciting acquaintances. 
                   
                   
                  Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade is a symphonic suite based 
                  on the tales of The 1001 Nights. The music is flashy 
                  and melodic, painted in bright Oriental tones. The layout is 
                  based on tales told by Scheherazade to the stern Sultan Shakhriar. 
                  The themes of Scheherazade and the Sultan surround the episodes 
                  and serve as a unifying element. You may forget Rimsky’s symphonies 
                  - even some of his operas - but you’ll never forget Scheherazade. 
                  Muti’s rendering is large, heavy, and somewhat pompous. Many 
                  episodes are excellent, but links hang loose, as if Muti was 
                  indulging himself in phrases to the detriment of the big picture. 
                  The beat is too regular to make alive the waves that carry Sinbad’s 
                  ship in the first movement: real nature always has these tiny 
                  irregularities. But the sheer opulence of this grand orchestral 
                  waterfall is impressive. I don’t remember Scheherazade lulling 
                  the Sultan to sleep on purpose, yet Muti almost did this to 
                  me in the third movement. To tell the truth, Muti often does 
                  this to me. But when he is good, he is good. The fast march 
                  of the Kalendar movement has great drive – if only the 
                  recorded sound was more vivid! The Festival of Baghdad 
                  is superb – light and energetic. The final Sea episode is electrifying 
                  and grandiose. Another highlight is the elegant solo violin 
                  of Normal Carol. Overall, this is a good, firm and faithful 
                  performance – however, if you want all these pictures to step 
                  out from the walls into your room I would direct you to the 
                  brand new Seattle/Schwarz on Naxos.  
                   
                  Aram Khachaturian carved three suites out of his ballet Spartacus. 
                  Being separate means being performed independently, and unfortunately 
                  only one of them includes the Adagio of Spartacus and Phrygia. 
                  So nobody actually performs the suites as they are – it’s always 
                  the Adagio plus a couple more pieces. The collection 
                  on this disc starts with the fiery and exotic Variation of 
                  Aegina. Aegina is the mean girlfriend of the Roman consul 
                  Crassus, and her music has “black swan” voluptuousness and dark, 
                  violent energy. The famous Adagio goes next, and is expressive 
                  and tender. This music might be not very sophisticated, but 
                  when these lush strings rise and rise to new heights, whose 
                  heart won’t follow them? Enter Crassus in a good mood 
                  and has his own Adagio with Aegina. It sounds a lot like 
                  the preceding one, minus the tune. It is also more lustful than 
                  tender, as befits the bad guys. The last excerpt is the exciting 
                  Dance of the Gaditaniae. It starts low and slow, then 
                  gathers force and momentum, like Ravel’s Bolero. The 
                  orchestra is dominated by brass and sonorous percussion. The 
                  music gradually builds to a blazing climax. The recorded sound 
                  lacks depth, and the strings are sometimes harsh, but under 
                  the enthusiastic baton of the composer this can be called an 
                  authoritative recording. It is very expressive.  
                   
                  The suite from Gayaneh allows us to enjoy the rainbow 
                  of dances without the need to tread through the socialist-realistic 
                  plot, with its labor achievements and clandestine counter-revolutionaries 
                  doomed to inexorable downfall. Gopak is the only non-oriental 
                  piece of the set. It’s like a macho version of polka with a 
                  sailor-like rollicking fervor. You certainly know the virile, 
                  electrifying Sabre Dance. Mountaineers’ Dance 
                  has a similar drive, but is darker and heavier. Ayesha’s 
                  Dance is gentle and swaying, with some very Armenian melodic 
                  twists that you may know from Khachaturian’s Violin Concerto. 
                  Dance of the Rose-Maidens is springy and sunny. The calm 
                  Lullaby is full of soft love. It starts in a hush and 
                  expands to a passionate climax. Dance of the Young Kurds 
                  is energetic and bouncy. Armen’s Variation is fiery and 
                  haughty, with huge and assured leaps. The closing Lezghinka 
                  is happy and noisy. All the dances are short and have very distinct 
                  “faces”, thus the listening never becomes boring. The tempi 
                  are fast, and the performance is passionate. The playing is 
                  superb and the musicians seem to be having real fun: such enthusiasm 
                  cannot be faked. This music may sound plain and square in the 
                  wrong hands but under Yuri Temirkanov it sparkles.  
                   
                  From the Revolution until his exile Glazunov had to live in 
                  a society that had no use for his music. It was disdained as 
                  bourgeois and decadent. I can understand his drinking problems. 
                  But in 1899 he was still a young man, a rising star burning 
                  with inspiration. The Seasons could easily be mistaken 
                  for the fourth ballet by Tchaikovsky. The four parts follow 
                  the seasons of the year. Winter is probably the most 
                  beautiful, with one lyrical melody after another. The general 
                  color scheme is cold, bluish-white, but it’s not all in minor 
                  key: winter has a lot of specific winter fun! There are swirling 
                  snowflakes and tiny bells that could have come from the enchanted 
                  world of Nutcracker. Spring is carefree and gentle, 
                  its colors warm and bright. It culminates in one of Glazunov’s 
                  signature waltzes. Summer might remind you of the panoramas 
                  you saw in The Sleeping Beauty. The music is warm 
                  and sunny. Some moments are predictable and somewhat standard, 
                  but Glazunov’s sincerity and mastery of orchestration will ensure 
                  that you will enjoy even those. The autumnal Bacchanal 
                  brings all the subjects together for a final apotheosis. Its 
                  festive and peaceful pages glow with mirth. Evgeny Svetlanov, 
                  the illustrious interpreter of the Russian classics, conducts 
                  a magical performance. His Winter is full of mystery 
                  and contrasts, Spring is alive and fluttering, the perfectly 
                  measured free-flying swing of Summer will entice you, 
                  and Autumn is a miracle of balance. He drives this multi-scene 
                  composition as if in one breath. The tempo is generally relaxed, 
                  but this only makes the music more natural. On every page Svetlanov 
                  finds something that makes the picture alive. The orchestra 
                  is nimble and follows his lead lightly. The recording quality 
                  is exemplary; the sound has exceptional depth and spatial definition. 
                   
                   
                  Shostakovich was a pupil of Glazunov, but the gap between the 
                  styles of the two could not be bigger. The Golden Age 
                  is a proletarian burlesque from the time when Shostakovich could 
                  laugh without hooded sarcasm. We hear three numbers, starting 
                  with a polyphonic Introduction that ends in a circus 
                  waltz, then the frivolous and humorous Polka and, finally, 
                  the Petrushka-like slapstick Dance, which occasionally 
                  slips into elephantine buffoonery.  
                   
                  The strangest stranger here is Shostakovich’s witty and inventive 
                  arrangement of Youmans’ Tea for Two.  
                   
                  All in all, this is a fine collection for a nice price. The 
                  performances are very good, as is the recording quality. Svetlanov’s 
                  The Seasons alone could justify the purchase, but other 
                  works, colorful and melodic, in excellent interpretations, are 
                  every bit as attractive and can provide a lot of pleasure.  
                    
                Oleg Ledeniov  
                   
                 
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  
                  
                  
                  
                  
                   
                 
             
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