Pyotr Il’yich TCHAIKOVSKY (1840-1893)
Symphony no.2 in C minor, op.17 Little Russian (1872) [29:38]
Symphony no.3 in D, op.29 Polish (1875) [39:53]
Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra/Eugene Goossens (op.17)
National Symphony Orchestra/Hans Kindler (op.29)
rec. unspecified locations; 1940/41
GUILD HISTORICAL GHCD 2422 [70:05]
The two performances preserved on this disc were these symphonies’
first American recordings. They are, therefore, of obvious historical and
musicological importance. They are also, though, well worth hearing on artistic
grounds. Hans Kindler’s conception of the third symphony is distinctive and
finely wrought, while, according to Robert Matthew-Walker’s interesting booklet
notes, Goossens’ Little Russian has “[f]or many collectors ... never
been surpassed”.
Before considering each performance in turn, it is worth noting that both
were issued on 78 rpm discs before any recordings had been made in the USSR
itself. They therefore preserve a Western tradition that had yet to be widely
influenced by the distinctive characteristics of native Russian performances.
In fact, the most notably consistent feature of both these accounts is that
they are often rather more brisk that we are used to, although, as always
when considering recordings made for release on 78 rpm discs, that might merely
reflect the requirements of that era’s recording processes.
Eugene Goossens, the Cincinnati orchestra’s music director from 1933 until
1947, leads it in the Little Russian. The sound quality is initially
a little muffled, with the woodwinds, in particular, not coming through terribly
well. Matters improve in that respect within just a few minutes, however,
although even with clearer sound the violins continue to come across as more
than a little undernourished (2:15-2:30), giving us a useful reminder that
we are listening to Cincinnati and definitely not to Philadelphia. Goossens
really whips up the excitement from 2:51 onwards and the performance becomes
notably volatile and frenetic, with especially notable contributions from
the skilled string players. The first movement excitement doesn’t let up
from that point on, though at 5:26-5:34 the brass fails to make the sort of
impact that those later Soviet recordings were soon to make familiar.
From the end of the first movement the sound is both more consistent and of
a better quality, revealing some fine music-making. The second movement andantino
puts more emphasis on the quasi moderato injunction than any real
marziale elements – this is less Trooping the Colour than the Home
Guard on parade. Nevertheless, the quality of the playing is very good indeed
and Goossens exhibits impressive control over both orchestral balance and
dynamics. Those positive qualities are maintained throughout the allegro
molto vivace third movement.
The finale is launched in a very forthright manner and the subsequent allegro
vivace is driven and vigorous. Goossens builds up immense excitement
and the strings once again demonstrate their skilled playing (6:48-7:00).
The only disappointment comes with the climax where the cathartic stroke on
the tam-tam doesn’t reverberate for quite as long it needs to in order to
make its full impact. Nonetheless, this account of the Little Russian
emerges overall as both strong and compelling.
If anything, though, the Polish – recorded slighter earlier but with
greater consistency in sound quality - makes even more of an impact. That
is not only because of the quality of the National Symphony Orchestra – only,
at that point, less than a decade old but still sounding even more accomplished
than their older-established Cincinnati counterparts – but also because of
the artistry and technical skill of their founder-conductor Hans Kindler.
In his hands the first movement opens most strikingly in an atmosphere of
utter bleakness strongly reminiscent of the music that Tchaikovsky was to
write nearly thirty years later for the Pathétique symphony. Kindler’s
introduction to the Polish is quite unlike that of any other account
I’ve heard, for, while Tchaikovsky may have specified tempo di Marcia funebre,
here the music seems to convey a feeling not just of a funeral in the world
of the living but of death itself. Within just a couple of minutes the conductor’s
acute ear for dynamics ensures that the often overlooked pizzicato
strings make their full and proper impact at 00:58-01:46. The succeeding
allegro brillante is incisive yet firmly controlled, avoiding the excesses
– tremendously exciting though they certainly were – of Goossens’s approach.
The alla tedesca second movement is taken in quite a sprightly fashion,
with the violins at 00:42-00:52 displaying something of a distinctive swing
rather than the yearning quality that we usually encounter. Kindler’s account
of the third movement is possibly the most convincing that I have ever heard:
after an opening (00:00-01:32) that is less self-consciously atmospheric than
those of many other conductors, he launches into a passionate and most beautifully
played andante elegiaco – just listen to the violins at 4:29-6:21.
It’s worth pointing out that Tchaikovsky was working on the Polish at
roughly the same time as Swan Lake and, as in all the best accounts
of the third symphony, Kindler’s brings out the balletic qualities of its
fourth movement scherzo. Even a somewhat awkwardly managed cut at
3:18 wasn’t enough to dampen my enthusiasm. Although the finale demonstrates
the conductor’s predilection for strings over brass – he himself was a renowned
cellist - it is a well delivered account that brings this impressive performance
to its end.
I suspect that recordings of this vintage are never going to be mainstream
recommendations. Nonetheless, this disc is to be welcomed as bringing two
important performances back into the public eye and anyone with a particular
interest in Tchaikovsky should certainly make its acquaintance.
Rob Maynard
To be welcomed. Anyone with a particular interest in Tchaikovsky should certainly
make its acquaintance.
and a further perspective from Rob Barnett:-
These are historical mono recordings that have been nicely cleaned up by Guild.
The disc allows us to hear again from the USA’s second line orchestras in
lower key Tchaikovsky. The sessions, which took place within about twelve
months before Pearl Harbour, predate the first Soviet recordings of these
works which are from the 1950s: USSRSO/Konstantin Ivanov on Melodiya and as
far as I am aware never reissued.
Goossens’ approach in No. 2 is finely graduated and calculated yet is not
lacking in spontaneity and spring. Try the start of the second movement for
his spry and lilted attention to rhythms. The way he forms Tchaikovsky's 'sentences’
is clear and there's a great sense of depth, breadth and a relentless grip
that never becomes frenetic. On this showing I rather wish that Goossens had
also recorded the Glazunov symphonies. The finale seems to speak of Imperial
Russia in much the same way that the finale of Glazunov 8 does: a real sleet-storm
of notes and all captured in a nice hall resonance. The Cincinnati Symphony
of those times might not have been a luxury item but neither were they a hick
outfit.
Kindler and the NSO in the Third Symphony – here in five tracks – were recorded
a year before the Goossens set. I found the sound here not as natural and
open as it is for the Goossens. It has a tendency toward parchment and desiccation
which the listener's ear soon ‘corrects’. The first movement is all pomp
and circumstance, the second has a balletic ‘mirliton’ quality while
the third radiates an Elgarian warmth and the fourth has a nicely measured
gait. The fourth recalls a typical Glazunov scherzo. The heat is turned up
for the finale which balances ceremonious grandeur with fugal fustian. In
the final pages any dust is blown to the four winds by tempestuous strings.
There’s some virtuoso playing here.
Thanks again to that doyen among collectors – Edward Johnson – who generously
provided the original material from which these recordings were taken. These
are from LP transfers rather than the initial 78s.
I should also thank the author of the fascinating notes, Robert Matthew-Walker.
He is one of the finest practitioners of the classical music essayist’s art.
This reviewer owes much to him. He is always a nutritious read. His art shows
through time after time as in his work for various CDs of music by Delius,
Coke and Andreae.
These are historical recordings but are enjoyable in themselves if you bear
in mind their seventy-plus vintage.
Rob Barnett
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