On first hearing, this
performance struck me as something quite
special; it was both deeply moving and
radically different from many Pathétiques
on record. Subsequent hearings did not
confirm this initial impression, however.
And, take a score to it and there are
so many distortions and tempo fluctuations
– notably in the Adagio lamentoso –
that a rethink became inevitable. In
part, I am pretty certain that this
is what Valery Gergiev himself did at
the concert from which this performance
is taken. It does not sound quite the
performance which he might have rehearsed
with the Wiener Philharmoniker, although
the orchestra’s playing is first rate,
if not without some flaws.
That difference can
be attributed to the Beslan Massacre,
which occurred on the day this concert
was given. It was an event which deeply
moved Gergiev, not least because the
conductor was born in Georgia. Hearing
him give a live performance of this
symphony in aid of the victims of Beslan
in November last year at English National
Opera (but with his Kirov Orchestra)
the similarities with this Vienna performance
are striking: the violence of the first
movement’s allegro is palpable in both
performances, the crushing climax teeters
on the unbearable, and both the second
and third movements are deliberately
lacking in orchestral finesse, the waltz
rhythms almost ripped out of the music’s
heart. The Adagio itself is searing,
yet broken and fragmented and ends in
almost utter despair. With tempi constantly
on the fast side (except for the Adagio)
the element of haste and briskness in
these performances seems to give an
urgency to the music it does not need.
Tchaikovsky was such a skilful writer
of tempo markings that the music lives
from within. Gergiev simply ignores
almost everything Tchaikovsky wrote.
All of this differs
from his Kirov Tchaikovsky Sixth (also
on Philips) and a live Vienna performance,
both of which sound to me more honest
than this new disc. Gergiev can be a
highly individualistic orchestral conductor,
bringing out details which no other
conductor sees. But the downside of
this is that his performances tend towards
the perverse. I have never, for example,
warmed to his Rite of Spring, either
on record or the numerous times I have
heard him do it with various orchestras
live in concert.
Save for the final
minutes of this performance – which
show exactly what calibre of orchestra
he has in the Wiener Philharmoniker
– the Adagio is a spiritual desert.
Tchaikovsky marks the opening as crotchet=54,
the same as he does for the opening
movement of the symphony. Gergiev is
almost spot-on in the first movement,
but in the Adagio he is so far ahead
of Tchaikovsky’s tempo that when the
Andante comes in at crotchet=69 and
then the Adagio returns at crotchet=60,
the music simply loses its sense of
purpose. The climax itself is highly
individual – and highly mannered – taken
at breakneck speed - but, come the closing
moments of the symphony (8’29 onwards)
and we are in a different world altogether.
The Vienna strings dig deeply for Gergiev,
in the most searching of ways, the ’cellos
and double basses moving from the sf
marking to a diminuendo with almost
astonishing refinement. Quite how the
strings attain the pppp that
Tchaikovsky requires is both magical
and breathtaking. Rarely, has this symphony
ended on a literal heartbeat as it does
here and the effect is deeply spiritual.
On first hearing I
most people would, I am sure, find this
a deeply affecting performance of one
of the great Romantic symphonies, but
I suspect the events that created it
would make it simply that: a one off
listening experience. Too interpretatively
individual to be a recommendation, there
are more solid performances of this
great work to return to in recordings
by Asahina (my top recommendation),
Celibidache, Furtwängler (Berlin
and Cairo) and Sinopoli. All offer performances
as uniquely compelling as Gergiev’s,
but somehow each of those performances
offers just that bit more than a one-off
event.
Marc Bridle