Alexander SCRIABIN (1872-1915)
Symphony No. 1 in E major, Op. 26 (1899-1900) [50:08]
Symphony No. 2 in C minor, Op. 29 (1901) [41:01]
Ekaterina Sergeeva (mezzo)
Alexander Timchenko (tenor)
London Symphony Chorus/Simon Halsey
London Symphony Orchestra/Valery Gergiev
rec. live, 30 March 2014 (1), 10 April 2014 (2), Barbican, London, UK. DSD
128fs
Reviewed as a Studio Master from Hyperion
Records
Pdf booklet includes sung texts (Russian & English)
LSO LIVE LSO0770 [2 SACDs: 91:09]
The Scriabin centenary may have been and gone, but new recordings
of the Russian mystic’s works still keep on coming. True, it’s
a trickle compared with, say, the steady flow of new Sibelius releases, but
then Scriabin’s fan base isn’t nearly so broad. That said, Scriabin’s
symphonic output has fared quite well on record. Riccardo Muti’s EMI-Warner
set with the Philadelphia Orchestra – reissued by Brilliant
– is still a fine one. His performances are vast and voluptuous and
the sound is both wide-ranging and sumptuously trimmed. Then there’s
the BIS
box with Leif Segerstam and the Stockholm Philharmonic. Generally direct and
unsentimental – and superbly recorded – these readings have much
to commend them.
I’d be content with either collection – preferably both, for they
illuminate different aspects of these distinctive and ambitious scores –
but then I was lucky enough to review Mikhail Pletnev and the Russian National
Orchestra’s accounts of the First and Fourth symphonies (Pentatone).
Powerful and proselytizing, these performances are simply astonishing; not
only that, Polyhymnia’s tactile and sophisticated recording is a wonder
to behold. The real surprise, though, is Pletnev’s total engagement
with this music, not at all what I’d expected from a conductor I often
find a tad chilly; his recent disc of Tchaikovsky marches and overtures is
a case in point (review).
Two other Russians – Vasily Petrenko and Valery Gergiev – have
also taken on these symphonies, albeit with mixed results. Petrenko’s
Oslo recordings of Nos. 3 and 4, the start of a projected cycle, aren’t
nearly as radiant or far-reaching as the best in the catalogue (review).
The first instalment of Gergiev’s LSO series was even more disappointing
(review).
Part of the problem with Gergiev is that he’s so unpredictable; just
compare his magnificent account of Rachmaninov’s Second Symphony (review)
with his fatally disengaged performance of the Third (review).
So it’s anyone’s guess which way he’ll jump here.
As Andrew Huth points out in his liner-notes Scriabin was fortunate to count
the musical all-rounder Vasily Safonov (1852-1918) among his early champions.
Even more fortuitous was the generous patronage of Mirofan Belyayev (1836-1904),
the businessman, philanthropist and founder of the music group that bore his
name. One of the early fruits of this relationship was the six-movement First
Symphony, whose initial performances were not well received. Then again, that’s
often the case with visionaries, whose radicalism tends to antagonise those
used to a steady diet of what they know and like.
The opening movement of Gergiev’s First is certainly atmospheric; there’s
a decent pulse and the music has a truly intoxicating scent. As so often with
ambitious works such as this, balance is everything; that means a sense of
proportion – those mighty perorations need to be judiciously scaled
– and eroticism, while essential, cannot be allowed to slip into turpitude.
Remarkably, Gergiev gets it right; even more impressive is the hear-through
quality of this DSD recording, subtly engineered by James Mallinson and his
Classic Sound team.
The second movement, marked Allegro drammatico, is no less assured.
The finely calibrated playing of the LSO is a joy to hear; they sound so idiomatic
too. Gergiev is steady but never dull; he also finds warmth and suppleness
in the music, something I don’t hear in his accounts of Nos. 3 and 4.
Indeed, this is a good version to play to those who think Scriabin is overlong
and overblown. There’s a clear, unwavering narrative here, and the luminous
recording makes the most of Scriabin’s giddy colours. Even more striking
is the palpable sense of destination, of impending apotheosis, of a musical
and emotional vortex that’s impossible to escape.
The Lento is a rich, seamless beauty, and the sound and instrumental
blend are as sophisticated as it gets. Any caveats? Well, the conductor’s
grunts are very audible in quiet passages, but then that’s a given with
Gergiev. The little Vivace is nicely pointed – just savour
those splendid pizzicati – and the Allegro is well
shaped. It’s only when one experiences the sheer magnetism of Pletnev’s
performance that Gergiev seems less compelling at times. It’s a momentary
loss of focus, merely, and it poses no danger to overall tension and progress.
Scale and balance are particularly important in the choral finale. Muti, a
veteran of the opera house, has a flair for drama, and that shines through
here. I fear he has the better soloists too, but there’s no denying
Gergiev’s ability to maintain a sense of imminent - and explosive -
release. Simon Halsey’s ideally distant singers sound genuinely ecstatic,
and Gergiev brings it all to a superbly controlled climax. The earth certainly
moved for me, and I daresay it will for you, too. Not in Pletnev’s league,
perhaps, but a memorable night nonetheless.
Having made amends with that compelling performance, how does Gergiev cope
with Scriabin’s more conventional Op. 29? It’s in five movements,
the first two and the last two played without a break. In Gergiev’s
hands it comes across as a lucid and surprisingly muscular piece; indeed,
if the First is feminine in feeling the Second is resolutely masculine. The
Andante and Allegro are despatched with confidence, but
for some reason the recording lacks that elusive sense of a live event. Still,
the tuttis have plenty of punch and inner details are easily discerned. Pacing
in the Allegro is brisk and contrasts are sharply drawn.
I must confess the Second is not my favourite Scriabin symphony. I find it
rather bluff at times; also, there’s less ear-pricking invention –
less daring – compared with his Op. 26. Not only that, Gergiev’s
approach can seem like a series of discrete shots rather than a long, seamless
take. That said, the lovely Andante has both poise and pulse; what
a pity, then, that the conductor’s vocalising is so intrusive at this
point. In spite of my reservations this remains a vital and engaging performance,
winningly played and very well recorded.
The Tempestoso and Maestoso strike me as the most Tchaikovskian
segments of the symphony; they’re also the most prone to bombast, but
that’s more Scriabin’s fault than Gergiev’s. Even the composer
admitted he’d misjudged the finale, which he described as ‘a military
parade’. That analogy holds true in this performance, but thanks to
a robust pace and sense of purpose Gergiev’s endgame isn’t as
banal as some. In any event the LSO sound like they’re having a terrific
time, the brass and drums especially.
As if doing his best to distinguish the Second from its more sensuous brethren
Segerstam gives us a cool and refreshing account of this symphony. He’s
leaner, loftier and he delivers the music in a single, unbroken span. Muti
is frankly overstuffed by comparison. Listeners might also want to try Neeme
Järvi and the RSNO in this work (Chandos CHAN8462). Bold and energetic as
that performance is I just don’t find it very engaging or idiomatic.
Gergiev is more cogent and satisfying on almost every level. No, it’s
Segerstam who has it all: insight, an unrivalled sense of the work’s
architecture and – a welcome bonus – scruff-grabbing sonics.
A passionate Scriabin First and a very decent Second from Valery Gergiev and
the LSO; the sound ranges from excellent to superb.
Dan Morgan
twitter.com/mahlerei
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