In the 1960s Supraphon
was an unfailing source of mid-price
LPs which combined rough but stirring
sound with performances that offered
unmannered musicianship yet with no
lack of commitment. In those Iron Curtain
days the Czechs, now on the threshold
of entering the European Union, still
seemed "a far-off people of whom
we know nothing" (Neville Chamberlain’s
famous excuse for not responding to
Hitler’s invasion of their country)
and the very names of the artists, often
long and unpronounceable (though not
in the present case) bore the germs
of romance.. One of the conductors we
learnt to admire
through these records was Karel Ančerl,
a survivor of Terezin and Auschwitz
who led the Czech Philharmonic from
1950 to 1968 when, in the wake of the
Russian invasion of Czechoslovakia,
he left for Toronto to die in exile.
His is an art which seems to
have grown since his death in 1973;
Supraphon are gathering together his
many studio recordings in an ongoing
Karel Ančerl Gold Edition while
other sources are issuing live material
from Toronto and elsewhere.
Another artist we learnt
to admire was the
violinist Josef Suk, great grandson
of Dvořák as well as grandson of
the composer Josef Suk, but needing
no family name to boost his credentials.
All the same ... I
suppose it is a reaction to the bureaucratic
sameness of so much of today’s music
making (plus
the odd startling “new look”) that has
led to so many conductors and instrumentalists
who were appreciated in their day as
fine musicians being proclaimed “great”.
For all their fine qualities, were Suk
and Ančerl quite in the “great”
bracket?
As I have a further
three issues in this series awaiting
review I shall not attempt a complete
answer here and now. Doubtless, too,
several of my colleagues will be pronouncing
on the other discs of this edition.
The Mendelssohn/Bruch
coupling was a standard bargain recommendation
in its day, and could still be so, especially
with the famous Supraphon shrillness
95% tamed. The Mendelssohn is fleet
and joyful, with a well-chosen tempo
in the finale (brilliant but not rushed)
and a tenderly expressed slow movement.
The slow movement of the Bruch is particularly
beautiful ;
I also love the steady but lilting presentation
of the theme of the finale. Suk and
Ančerl find plenty of passion in
this work although there are
signs that Suk’s tone, sweet and pure
as it was, was not very big.
Turn to the Menuhin/Furtwängler
version of the Mendelssohn, though (currently
available on EMI Classics Great Recordings
of the Century CDM 5 66975 2 and reviewed
by me for the site), and there is
something more; a burning commitments,
a zeal, that special whatever-it-is
that makes for greatness. But greatness
on this level does not come every day
and it is doubtful whether Menuhin himself
repeated it with another conductor.
Among “normal” versions Suk and Ančerl
stand high.
I think it rather a
pity that the Berg was not left with
its original – in both senses – coupling,
the Bach Cantata from which he quoted
in his Violin Concerto. However, if
you like the sweet-toned romanticism
of Mendelssohn and Bruch and are not
so sure about the "modern"
Berg, perhaps this will be the performance
to convince you. Many early performances
of this (and other works of the Second
Viennese School) were so riddled with
tensions resulting from the performers’
difficulty with the music that it was
not easy to see how much of the fraughtness
was due to this and how much was actually
in the music. In 1965 this concerto
was still only thirty years old, so
it is something of a miracle to find
it performed with such calm, such transparency,
such clarity, such natural familiarity
with every strand of its texture. It
is not surprising this disc won a Grand
Prix de L’Academie Charles Cros in
1968. It must have won many friends
for the work. But nearly forty years
on? The orchestral expertise can be
taken for granted today, but do we still
need to be soothed into believing this
is not a terrible modern piece? Is the
fraughtness not part of the work, is
something not lost if the violinist
does not sound on the edge of despair?
I can only sum up by saying that if
you believe Berg’s Concerto "To
the Memory of an Angel" was intended
as a seraphic evocation of the "Angel",
then this may still be the best performance
of all for you. If, on the other hand,
you believe that Berg wished to express
his desperate grief at the loss of his
"Angel", then you will find
an important element missing.
It would have been
cute to have the original sleeve-notes,
cast in an "English" that
caused much idle merriment; instead
we have full notes on conductor, soloist
and music in generally very acceptable
translations.
Christopher Howell
Josef Suk (violin) 