Alexander SCRIABIN (1870-1915)
Symphony No. 2 in C minor, Op. 29 (1902) [53:52]
Le poème de l'extase, Op. 54 (1905-7, choral vers. arr. Ahronovitch) [22:59]
WDR Rundfunk Chor
Gürzenich-Orchester Köln/Dmitrij Kitajenko
rec. 2018/19, Konzertsaal der Kölner Philharmonie
OEHMS CLASSICS OC474 [76:51]
Scriabin's conventionally Romantic Second Symphony predates his mystical period
- the period that produced all the "poems" (The Divine Poem; Poem of Ecstasy; Prometheus, the Poem of Fire). Still, those who know his mature style can hear the germs of it in this symphony's short, unstable motifs. The flute trills and twiddles that dominate much of the central Andante, on the other hand, suggest a Messaien in the making!
Kitajenko's ear for texture in this serviceable rendition is oddly indiscriminate. On Philips, Inbal, ever the adept colourist, wove shimmering orchestral tapestries; on Melodiya, Svetlanov's underlinings, while crude, nonetheless projected the composer's variegated scoring. Here, when more than a few instruments are going, Kitajenko contents himself with a general wash of sound, including patches of careless coordination, in which horn and even trumpet soli get obscured.
Interpretively, the conductor is oddly schizophrenic. In the opening movement
- essentially a long "slow introduction" to the second-movement Allegro
- and in that Andante, he keeps things flowing, avoiding the overly segmented effect of Svetlanov, who highlights individual episodes, and even individual colours, at the expense of a through-line. On the other hand, Kitajenko imposes rhetorical distentions on that Allegro's climaxes
- the second is particularly clumsy and portentous - and lets the back-and-forth development become ponderous. The Finale's march theme, which can seem empty-headed, here strides firmly, but it still sounds thick, and lumbers through much of the home stretch. Other episodes
- the end of the first movement, the aimless start of the Tempestoso fourth
- simply sound padded and "stuck." Perhaps the conductor is just trying too hard.
The more familiar Poem of Ecstasy comes off better, with a purposeful line and more varied colours, along with a few further rhetorical distensions. Still, there's rather too strong a contrast between the drawn-out opening and other slow passages, which alternating with fleet, almost hectic ones; again, much of the activity beneath the trumpet soli is unduly suppressed. Yuri Ahronovitch's addition of wordless choral chanting in the final pages hardly seems worth the trouble.
The lightly scored passages emerge pleasingly in the sonic frame - the symphony's flute and clarinet soli have a nice delicacy
- but, as the volume rises, the music doesn't expand or fill out: it merely gets louder. The gong in Poem of Ecstasy tends to cover up everything else.
Stephen Francis Vasta
stevedisque.wordpress.com/blog
