William WALTON (1902-1983)
Viola Concerto (1929 rev 1934 and 1961) [28:37]
Alfred SCHNITTKE (1934-1998)
Passacaglia for Orchestra (1980) [22:28]
Yuri Bashmet (viola)
Academic Symphony Orchestra of the Moscow Philharmonic Society/Dmitri
Kitajenko
rec. April 1982, Grand Hall of the Moscow Conservatoire
MELODIYA MELCD1002293 [51:28]
Yuri Bashmet is a touchstone for instrumental excellence, and a musician
who opened up the world of Schnittke to me through one shattering
performance. His name is bracketed with the Viola Concerto, and so it seems
appropriate the Schnittke should be represented in this disc, though via his
Passacaglia for Orchestra. It also seems good to pair Walton with Schnittke,
given that Bashmet has espoused Walton’s Viola Concerto on concert and on
disc. His recording with Previn in 1994 on RCA is one that tends to get overlooked, for
some reason.
The disc under review is a live recording given on 6 April 1982 in the
Grand Hall – didn’t Melodiya tend to call this the ‘Great’ Hall in the old
days? – of the Moscow Conservatory. The Academic Symphony Orchestra of the
Moscow Philharmonic Society – got there in the end – is directed by Dmitri
Kitayenko. The Schnittke receives a reading of tremendous ebb and flow, as
it draws in and draws out along the inexorable route of the Passacaglia.
Kitayenko stresses the trenchant tidal nature of this single-span piece, and
draws the listener in through some defiant cueing of the brass and
percussion. This approach is very much more remorseless and unforgiving than
the fleeter ones sometimes to be heard. Leif Segerstam and the Malmö
Symphony, for instance (BIS-CD-437), take a full three minutes off
Kitayenko’s timing. Yet the latter observes the lightness and consoling
nature of Schnittke’s writing too, the frisson of a live performance
allowing for a classic statement of this work.
Well, I’m not sure 'classic' is the word for the Walton.
Puzzling, possibly. Let’s get to the puzzle in a moment. This is a more
drawn-out performance than the one Bashmet was to give a dozen years later
with Previn. Tonally the live set-up catches a grittier, terser tonal
quality to Bashmet’s tone as well, though he gets the languorous breadth of
the opening paragraphs. Invariably, though, the string bloom of Previn’s LSO
is a continent away from the biting brass and sometimes glassy string mass
of the Moscow orchestra. The finale is attractive for a live reading though
there are ensemble imprecisions that may worry some. What will worry them a
whole lot more - and what worries me and puzzles me (see above) - is what on
earth went on in the scherzo. I’ve been wary of writing this review ever
since I spent two hours trying to work out what’s going on. It lasts getting
on for eight minutes – most performances take four or thereabouts – and
Bashmet took 4:16 with Previn.
In the dire long night of the critical soul that afflicts reviewers at
three in the morning – moments when one realises that it’s not Alan Boult,
it’s Adrian, and is it too late to correct it – reviewers sometimes also
feel that they’re missing something staring them in the face. In that
spirit, I admit this; I can’t hear a faulty edit, and can’t hear a
mis-tracking. I really don’t want to think that soloist and conductor
concocted an ‘elaboration’ of the material in this movement to balance the
outer ones. Is that possible?
So, let me, for the only time in the 14 years I’ve been writing here, turn
it over to you. At the time of writing someone – and it’s not me - has
uploaded just the scherzo onto
YouTube. Maybe they’ve had the same thought. Take a listen
and tell me what I’m missing. Until then, I can’t give this disc a
recommendation and conclusions must be provisional.
Jonathan Woolf
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