This is a really superb issue - a top-class recording
of an outstanding interpretation and performance. Oddly enough,
there aren’t that many modern versions of Petrouchka in
the catalogue, though both Colin Davis and Claudio Abbado have
produced memorable readings in fairly recent times.
Järvi paces the music so well, which not
only lets the momentum of the drama build inexorably, but also
allows all the delicious details of the scoring to be heard so
clearly. The opening crowd scene bustles with life and activity,
while the Russian Dance, though not particularly quick, has tremendous
rhythmic drive, as well as just the right mechanical feel for
the sudden coming to life of the puppets. When we move
‘indoors’ for the brooding music of the Blackamoor, Järvi
characterises the music powerfully, the dangerously capricious
atmosphere brilliantly captured. Järvi here is as vivid as
Ansermet in his famous 1950 version.
The only slightly contentious touch comes near
the very end, where Järvi and his engineers choose to place
the pair of muted trumpets - which describe the manic gesturing
of Petrouchka’s ghost – ‘off-stage’. This heightens both the pictorial
quality of the music and its grotesque pathos. I felt it was a
justifiable use of a simple piece of recording technology, though
I’m aware there may be some listeners who’ll object.
The Firebird Suite comes over equally
well. Once again, Järvi doesn’t go for mere sensationalism,
allowing the music to generate excitement organically. No punches
are pulled, though, and the Infernal Dance of King Kastchei
is as thrilling as I’ve ever heard it. Beautifully played
bassoon and horn solos lead through to an exultant and musically
satisfying finale. The Cincinnati Symphony is now undoubtedly,
on this showing, a truly world-class body, with richly supple
strings, expressive, characterful woodwind soloists and brilliant,
well-balanced brass.
The filler is the genial Scherzo à
la Russe, (a curious little companion piece to the great Symphony
in Three Movements). I must mention the cover photo, which
shows Stravinsky and Nijinsky side by side, the former in concert
tails, the latter in his Petrouchka costume. They survey the camera
like an oddly gawky pair of twins.
Gwyn Parry-Jones