These 
                recordings were made during the first blooming of the Martinů 
                revival. The composer, effectively an exile from his homeland, 
                had died only seven years before the first of these recordings 
                were made. The seventy-fifth anniversary of his birth passed in 
                1965. With agonising slowness the then Czechoslovakia began to 
                produce the Supraphon LPs that acted as emissaries for his music 
                across the world. In the 1970s these LPs were still in evidence 
                in record shops and in the UK at the bigger retail chains like 
                W.H. Smiths who often purchased them in bulk and included them 
                in their racks during the January and summer sales. Picking up 
                these Supraphons at between 75p and Ł1.25 broadened not a few 
                horizons. Of course their poorly translated notes provided easy 
                scavenging for the critics but their repertoire coverage and the 
                often vivid quality of the performances won many new friends among 
                young and impecunious collectors.  
              
 
              
Alexandr 
                or Saša Večtomov (1930-1989) had distinguished musical forebears. 
                His father, Ivan, was leader of the Czech Phil. He studied at 
                the Prague Conservatory with Ladislav Zelenka and completed his 
                studies with Kozolupov in Moscow. He won many prizes (1955 Spring 
                Prague; 1959 Casals in Mexico) and toured worldwide with the Czech 
                Trio. He taught at Prague's Academy of Music.  
              
 
              
Josef 
                Páleníček (1914-1991) has recorded the third and fourth of 
                Martinů's piano concertos. He was taught in Prague and Paris. 
                In 1934 he founded the Smetana Trio later dubbed the Czech Trio 
                joined from 1956 by Saša Večtomov. Between 1949 and 1962 
                he was often soloist at concerts of the Czech Phil.  
              
 
              
The 
                two artists deliver warm and internalised readings of the three 
                sonatas. Večtomov's tone is chesty, richly endowed, nasal 
                and 'sticky' when high in the register. The approach is to accentuate 
                the melodic so there is a more rounded, undulant contour than 
                in the very slightly angular readings of Jírí Hanousek and Paul 
                Kaspar and the spare recording tone on Centaur CRC 2207. These 
                three sonatas coupled on CD1 are products of Martinů's high 
                maturity. Večtomov and Páleníček make a grand tragic 
                statement of the Largo of the Second Sonata displaying 
                an impressive grip on structure. The singing lines of the Fourth 
                Symphony reach out from their allegro comodo (tr. 6). The 
                recording in the Domovina Studio conspires to emphasise the burgeoning 
                warmth of this music especially noticeable in the last two sonatas. 
                The First Sonata is by no means the neo-classical frivolity 
                one might expect from its partly Parisian provenance. It is closer 
                to the Concerto for Double String Orchestra, piano and timpani. 
                The Rossini Variations are on a theme from Mose 
                in Egitto. It was written for Gregor Piatigorsky to a commission. 
                It is bright, pompous, humorous, hiccuping and ultimately Paganinian 
                in its showy and storm-tossed leger-de-main. It has its stilly 
                night as well in the Pierrot moonscape (6.41). The Slovak 
                Variations were written just six months at the home of 
                Paul Sacher (who premiered both Gilgamesh and The Greek 
                Passion) before the composer’s death. This time the theme 
                (Kebych já vedela, kde môj milý kosí) 
                is allowed to bloom towards a nostalgic sun. This is one of Martinů's 
                most concentratedly lyrical pieces. You may have in mind the folk 
                based piano solos but here he goes further - this is the pastoral 
                landscape intensified, the composer with head-bowed - reverential. 
                In the last three minutes rhythmic life floods back with stamping 
                rhythms and swinging melodic material which occasional reminds 
                the listener of Szymanowski's Harnasie music.  
              
 
              
  
              
Večtomov's 
                Supraphon LP recording of the Cello Concerto No. 2 gained 
                the Grand Prix Paris' Academie Charles Cros in 1970. Večtomov 
                premiered the concerto in České Budějovice in May 1965 
                with the same conductor and orchestra who recorded the work just 
                over a year later. Martinů wrote the work during his long 
                American exile between Christmas 1944 and February 1945. His aching 
                homesickness can at this vantage point be seen as an emotional 
                counterpart to Rachmaninov's amour lointain for Russia. 
                Martinů's Czechoslovakia and Rachmaninov's Russia were remote 
                and unattainable and not just because of geography. The Second 
                Concerto was the last of his works for cello and orchestra. It 
                is infused with the natural singing soul of the cello - an accent 
                apt to Večtomov's innate sympathies. In none of the alternative 
                recordings does the dancing songfulness of the piece communicate 
                so well. The cello is recorded closely and makes a lovely sound 
                though, as with all the 1960s recordings here, without high-end 
                brilliance or much transparency. In its place there is a surging 
                fullness of sound - listen to the horn-topped density at 6.40 
                in the first movement. Ultimately this work suffers a debilitatingly 
                glorious dose of languor and nostalgia. It is no doubt exactly 
                what Martinů wanted to say but across almost 40 minutes it 
                may be just too much of a good thing. If you want only the cello 
                concertos then Wallfisch on Chandos is your best bet. Otherwise 
                these warm recordings of most of the cello works is well worth 
                getting. Večtomov's songful Slovak Variations, the intense 
                first movement of the Second Concerto and largo of the Second 
                Sonata are the outstanding highlights of this retrospective.  
              
 
              
This 
                is not the complete cello output. Missing are the Concertino (1924), 
                Concerto No. 1 (1930, 2nd version 1939, final 1955) and the Sonata 
                da Camera.  
              
 
               
              This 
                set with its slightly congested opaque sound is a treat for Martinů 
                lovers who want to hear how the two champions of his music developed 
                a performing style.  
              
 
              
 
              
Rob 
                Barnett