As we all know, especially when reminded by Christmas advertising
campaigns, record companies’ marketing departments have
been attempting to widen the definition of “classical
music” for years. To the horror of purists - perceived
by their opponents, needless to say, as snobs - we see film
scores generically labelled “classical” merely on
the grounds that they are performed by orchestras. Meanwhile,
singers promoting “crossover” albums are marketed
as opera stars even though they have never actually sung in
staged operatic performances.
Although such purists might be equally bemused to find these
two Chinese scores designated as concertos, let’s concede
that that particular word has, in its time, encompassed a sizeable
variety of forms. While formal structure and development may
not be the most obvious characteristics on show here, perhaps
if we see The yellow river and The butterfly lovers
primarily as rhapsodies - “free in structure and highly
emotional in character” [Collins English Dictionary] -
we will be on a more enlightening track.
Each of them certainly offers plenty of appealing melody and
sub-Rachmaninov passion that can be, at the very least, momentarily
involving. Their characteristic idiom will, if you’ve
ever flown with a Chinese airline, immediately bring to mind
the type of music that’s played quietly while boarding
is under way. I’m not, incidentally, being in any way
patronising here. I actually bought a CD of the EVA Airways
boarding music from the duty free trolley - and it would have
conclusively justified Noël Coward’s observation
“Extraordinary how potent cheap music can be” if
they hadn’t actually charged me full price for it.
I confess here a distinct preference between these two works.
I invariably succumb to the sheer in-your-face agitprop bombast
and vulgarity of the The yellow river - a piece that
suddenly falls into focus when you appreciate that it was produced,
in its final form, by a presumably terrified committee of the
Chinese Communist Party during the worst excesses of the Cultural
Revolution. On the other hand, The butterfly lovers -
the title referring not to enthusiastic Lepidoptera collectors,
by the way, but to human lovers who are transformed into butterflies
- has always struck me as a rather dull, colourless piece: less
a Red Admiral than a Cabbage White.
The Naxos label has, though, tended to exhibit the opposite
preference. Its star violinist Takako Nishizaki - married, incidentally,
to Naxos boss Klaus Heymann - clearly has a soft spot for the
Butterfly lovers and has made at least four recordings
over the years: with the Nagoya Philharmonic Orchestra in the
1970s; with the Czecho-Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra under
Kenneth Jean in 1990 (8.223350); with the Shanghai Conservatory
Symphony Orchestra conducted by Fan Chengwu just two years later
(8.554334); and, in 2003, with the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra
under James Judd (8.557348, see here and here). Meanwhile, The yellow river concerto, occasionally recorded
on other labels too (see here for a brief overview of some notable accounts), has
appeared on Naxos sister label Marco Polo in a 1991 recording
of soloist Yin Chen-Zong, supported by the Czecho-Slovak Radio
Symphony Orchestra conducted by Adrian Leaper.
This new disc is not, though, simply one more in this line of
recordings. Ms Nishizaki is not the featured soloist
in The butterfly lovers. Instead, what we have here is
the transformation of the piece from one for violin and orchestra
to another where the piano has assumed the solo role.
Perhaps the marketing men have been busy once again. After all,
were they to attempt to identify the most successful classical
recording project of recent decades, a strong contender would
be Hyperion’s Romantic piano concerto series. The
CD-buying public has, it seems, an insatiable appetite for piano
concertos, a point emphasised even more strongly when the same
company’s Romantic violin concertos and Romantic
cello concertos series don’t appear to have had the
same popular impact. So why not rewrite other repertoire to
satisfy the demands of the market?
Transforming violin concertos into piano concertos is nothing
new. Beethoven himself revised his initially unsuccessful violin
concerto so that it emerged, as op.61a, in a version for piano
and orchestra. Coming right up to date, as recently as 2008
the Croatian pianist Dejan Lazić rearranged the Brahms
violin concerto into a notional piano concerto “no.3”
(see here). The year before that Alexander Warenberg had arranged
Rachmaninov’s Second Symphony as a “piano concerto
no.5” (see here).
The performances on this new disc are very good indeed. Chen
Jie - described by the New York Times as “more
than a virtuosic clone” - is an enthusiast for Chinese
music who has already recorded a disc of Chinese piano favourites
for Naxos (8.570602).
I have heard no other recordings of the piano version of The
butterfly lovers, so am unable to make comparisons. I do,
though, think that the piece probably works better with a string
soloist because the violin sound suits the “gently flying
butterflies” passages rather better: think about The
lark ascending with a piano and you will get the point.
A violin also blends, I think, more effectively with the particular
orchestration of the piece.
When it comes to the rather more “Western” sound-world
of The yellow river, Ms Chen need fear comparison with
no-one. This is a superlative account in which she displays
huge verve and dynamism, as well as some affecting sensitivity
when it is - admittedly not too often - required. The New Zealand
Symphony Orchestra match the quality of the soloist’s
playing and Carolyn Kuan - the first woman to be awarded the
Herbert von Karajan Conducting Fellowship - also does a sterling
job.
The recording is generally a fine one too, though at one or
two points in The butterfly lovers I found the piano
to be rather too set back when the orchestra was at its most
lush. As the New Zealand players were briefly but über-romantically
rolling out one of the “big tunes” between 12:47
and 13:10 - a point at which, were this The yellow river
concerto, a rousing rendition of The east is red would
certainly have appeared - the piano seemed rather sadly lost
among it all.
The Naxos booklet notes are something of a disappointment. If
the disc’s unique selling point is the piano version of
The butterfly lovers, surely we deserve to be told more
than that “In 1985 Chen Gang arranged the Concerto
for piano and orchestra. It was given its first performance
and recorded by the renowned Chinese pianist Hsu Feiping.”
It would, for instance, have been interesting to discover whether
the change of solo instrument necessitated any major rewriting
of the score and, if so, how? A few comments by Ms Chen on how
she perceives the “new” piece might also have been
of interest in this case, even though I appreciate that Naxos
booklet notes usually keep to a more soberly factual outline.
Overall, then, this makes an enjoyable programme - as well as
an effective showcase for Chen Jie. If you already own a violin
version of The butterfly lovers, the piano version will
make an interesting supplement. If you do not, the Naxos price
bracket may perhaps tempt you to buy, as well as this disc under
review, one of Ms Nishizaki’s several winningly played
accounts.
Rob Maynard
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Chen Jie (piano) 