Alexander GLAZUNOV (1865–1935)
Symphony No. 7 “Pastoral,” Op. 77 (1902) [36:08]
Stenka Razin, Op. 13 (1885) [16:51]
Lyric Poem, Op. 12 (1884–1887) [10:06]
Carnival Overture, Op. 45 (1892) [11:11]
Niederrheinischen Sinfoniker/Mihkel Kütson
rec. 14–17 April 2021, Theatre Mönchengladbach, Mönchengladbach, Germany
MDG 952 2235-6 SACD [74:18]
Notwithstanding Alexander Glazunov’s almost warhorses (his Violin Concerto and the “Bacchanalia” from The Seasons), most of his music continues to gather dust at the periphery of the mainstream repertoire. Why this should be so is a head-scratcher, for the freshness and originality of his music ought to have ensured it a kinder fate commensurate with its superb quality. It has not helped Glazunov that he posthumously endured character assassination from three of the 20th century’s most important composers, each consigning to posterity their respective unflattering reminisces of the man: whether as venomous éminence grise of St. Petersburg's musical scene (Igor Stravinsky), fusty crank (Sergei Prokofiev), or tragi-comic Russian Falstaff (Solomon Volkov sock-pupetting as Dmitri Shostakovich).
Glazunov’s music needs all the friends it can get and, as this excellent MDG disc testifies, it has found some particularly sympathetic ones in the Niederrheinischen Sinfoniker and conductor Mihkel Kütson. They revel in the textural and coloristic felicities, the pleasantly unexpected turns that abound in these sparkling scores.
This centerpiece here is Glazunov’s Seventh Symphony from 1902, nicknamed the “Pastoral.” Not only does it share the nickname and key of a certain other “Pastoral” symphony, but the structure and thematic material of its first movement subtly recalls the corresponding movement of the earlier work. The likenesses end there, however, as Glazunov’s bucolic opus has a splendor and elegance wholly its own. Best of all is its gorgeous slow movement, which opens with a noble brass chorale that sounds like a Russian Orthodox church choir, festooned by the cheerful piping of woodwinds. The Niederrheinischen Sinfoniker seem to take especial pleasure in pouring out their lovely collective tone into the starlit nocturne at the heart of this movement; attuned, perhaps, to its uncanny forecasting of the “Mondscheinmusik” from Richard Strauss’ Capriccio.
The disc fillers—the Lyric Poem, Stenka Razin, and Carnival Overture—all date from Glazunov’s late teens and 20s, each score evincing the young composer’s already formidable mastery. Whatever the reasons for Glazunov’s present relative neglect, the fault clearly does not lie with the music.
Although the Niederrheinischen Sinfoniker may not possess the virtuosic ease of a Berlin Philharmonic or the oaken sonority of a Staatskapelle Dresden, they are nevertheless a very fine orchestra, aided by their splendid brass section, whose burnished sound lends further lustre to these recordings. Kütson imparts purpose and direction without need of interpretive hectoring, allowing Glazunov’s long-spun melodies and glittering orchestration to ring out unforced. MDG’s production, with its lifelike depth and presence, is excellent. Liner notes are adequate, but leave one wanting to know more about the music and composer.
Could this disc be the first of more Glazunov from these forces? I certainly hope so. While not wanting to be without the classic recordings by Yevgeny Mravinsky, Yevgeny Svetlanov, Gennady Rozhdestvensky, and Vladimir Fedoseyev, the chamber-like warmth and sensitivity that Kütson draws from the Niederrheinischen Sinfoniker has its own rewards.
Néstor Castiglione
