At a Promenade Concert
on Monday, August 19th 1991
we heard Leonard Slatkin's brilliant
first compilation from nine different
orchestrations of Mussorgsky's Pictures
at an Exhibition, a remarkably successful
initiative, reminding us, as it did,
of how many arrangements there have
been of this evocative score. Then he
went for extracts from Lawrence Leonard’s
version for piano and orchestra, from
Ashkenazy, Lucien Cailliet, Sergey Gorchakov,
Leonidas Leonardi, Sir Henry Wood, Mikhail
Tushmalov, Stokowski and Ravel.
It was the indefatigable
Edward Johnson, champion of Leopold
Stokowski, we had to thank for getting
Slatkin interested and finding some
of the scores. Now Slatkin has done
it again with a new – in many ways more
way-out – compilation including versions
by Ellison, Gorchakov, Walter Goehr,
Naoumoff, Geert van Keulen, Ashkenazy,
Simpson, Cailliet, Wood, Lawrence Leonard,
Leo Funtek, Boyd, Ravel and the Australian
composer/arranger Douglas Gamley.
Slatkin’s first compilation,
although he played it round the world,
has never been commercially released,
which makes it all the more pleasing
to welcome his second version on this
CD from the 2004 Proms at the Royal
Albert Hall.
Now there are two possible
attitudes to orchestrations of Pictures.
There is the po-faced "I cannot
be having with anything except Ravel"
view, or on the other hand, that this
colourful score has endless possibilities
and most orchestrations give one a new
angle on it. If you incline to the first,
stop reading now, but if like me you
want a sonic adventure, join Leonard
Slatkin in this fascinating exploration,
starting and ending with absolutely
way-out versions, one of which works
and one of which doesn’t.
The pictures that inspired
Mussorgsky were, of course, by his friend
Victor Hartmann (1834-1873), architect,
designer and water-colourist, one of
that group of artists and musicians
who looked to Russia, its folk-song,
folk-tales and peasant handicraft as
a source of national art in the 1860s.
The critic Stassov tells how Hartmann,
then in his late twenties, caused a
furore when he attended a carnival ball
dressed as the witch Baba Yaga. Yet
Hartmann was achieving recognition,
and in that same year designed the Russian
Millenary Monument at Novgorod for which
Balakirev's tone-poem Russia was
commissioned.
Mussorgsky was stunned
by the death of his fertile and brilliant
friend at the age of 39, and when a
memorial exhibition of Hartmann's work
took place in St Petersburg, he quickly
responded with four of these familiar
piano pieces, soon expanded to ten and
linked by interludes (the promenades
in which Mussorgsky said that he, himself,
could be seen) to become the piano work
we know today, first published in 1886.
It was Rimsky-Korsakov
who prepared the original Pictures
for publication, and indeed it has
been reported that the beginning of
a sketch of a possible Rimsky-Korsakov
orchestration survives, abandoned when
his pupil Mikhail Tushmalov took it
up. Rimsky certainly conducted Tushmalov's
first performance in St Petersburg,
on November 30th, 1891, and the only
recording ascribes it to "Tushmalov-Rimsky",
though on what grounds is not said.
Tushmalov must have acquired the printed
piano score from his teacher soon after
publication and been struck by the opportunities
it gave for orchestral colour, though
he only chose the opening promenade
and seven of the pictures, omitting
"Gnomus", "Tuileries"
and "Bydlo" (Stokowski, too,
later omitted "Tuileries",
as well as "Limoges"). Tushmalov
was for a time on LP (Acanta DC22128)
in a business-like Munich Philharmonic
performance conducted by Marc Andreae
from 1980 which I cannot trace having
been transferred to CD, though Slatkin
quarried "Limoges" from it
in 1991.
It seems probable that
the long familiar version by Ravel and
that by the Finnish conductor Leo Funtek
were written almost simultaneously and
in ignorance of each other, during 1922.
The conductor Serge Koussevitzky had
introduced Ravel to Mussorgsky's piano
original and he had responded by transcribing
"The Great Gate of Kiev" during
May 1922, finishing the complete transcription
shortly before Koussevitsky gave the
first performance in Paris on October
19th that year. Meantime, Funtek had
been working on his far more sombre
version of which he gave the first performance
in Helsinki on December 14th, 1922.
Interest in Pictures must have
been "in the air" because
that same year there was also published,
in Berlin, a version for salon orchestra
(including harmonium and percussion)
by Giuseppe Becce. He was an Italian
composer of songs, and a pioneer of
film music in the silent era, and his
version of Pictures, much abridged
and never recorded, started with "The
Old Castle" and omitted all the
promenades!
Once the published
score of the Ravel version had become
widely disseminated (and the performing
materials easily available) Pictures
became really popular and the Ravel
version was established as the pre-eminent
one. It was recorded by Koussevitzky
on October 28th, 1930 (DB 1890/3, reissued
on Pearl GEMMCD 9020) and certainly
in the mid-1930s Pictures was
frequently given; for example, at Carnegie
Hall it was conducted by Koussevitzky,
Stokowski and Toscanini. Despite his
"literalist" reputation, when
Toscanini recorded it he could not resist
making his own revisions to Ravel’s
orchestration.
Perhaps the most obscure
version, not so far recorded, is that
by Leonidas Leonardi, a Russian-born
American who studied in France (and
indeed, included Ravel among his teachers)
and died in 1967. In his early twenties
he prepared a rival version to Ravel’s
at the request of Mussorgsky’s own publishers,
who were taken aback by the success
of Koussevitzky’s commission. From this
score, Slatkin included the "Tuileries"
movement in his first compilation. He
remarked at the time that the orchestration
"seemed like a rushed job"
and it is notable he has not returned
to it.
In the 1930s there
followed orchestrations by the French-born
American Lucien Cailliet - for nearly
20 years the bass clarinettist in the
Philadelphia Orchestra (VICI4851/4 now
on Biddulph WHL 046) and by Leopold
Stokowski, both really only known to
record collectors. Cailliet’s version
was commissioned by Eugene Ormandy to
show off the Philadelphia Orchestra
that he had just taken over. It also
provided a rival version to the Ravel
transcription being performed in Boston
by Koussevitzky, then still very much
his own property, but it is a rousing
view, if more rough-hewn than Ravel’s.
The Stokowski orchestration
is particularly arresting, the arranger
making the point that he was deliberately
being more Slavic than Ravel. Stokowski
omitted two of the pictures – "Limoges"
and "Tuileries" – which he
felt not to be authentic.
Stokowski announces
his intention to depart from the sophisticated
world of Ravel at the outset by presenting
the opening promenade on strings, phrased
haltingly to depict Mussorgsky's tour
of the exhibition. Nevertheless, Cailliet's
opening Promenade on woodwind is perhaps
the most authentic in this respect.
I prefer both to the one recorded here.
Stokowski’s was first recorded with
the Philadelphia Orchestra on November
27th, 1939 (DB5827/30, CD reissue on
Dutton CDAX 8009) thus creating on pre-war
78s a fairly sharp competition between
three brilliant and strongly characterized
versions. All this must have contributed
significantly to the growth in public
interest in Mussorgsky's music, albeit
interrupted by the war. Stokowski recorded
the work three times and his Decca ‘Phase
4’ version of 1966 is on London 443
898-2. Music and Arts CD-765 has Stokowski’s
memorable 1963 Promenade Concert performance
in stunning true stereo, once on King
Records in Japan. The Stokey orchestration
seems to be the one most widely taken
up by other conductors, with versions
by the BBC Philharmonic and Matthias
Bamert on Chandos (CHAN 9445), the New
Zealand Symphony and James Sedares on
Koch (37344-2), a live Rozhdestvensky
performance on Russian Revelation RV
10073, and most recently by Oliver Knussen
with the Cleveland Orchestra on DG (457
646-2). A forthcoming version with the
Bournemouth Symphony conducted by Jose
Serebrier, variously reported as in
great sound, is due out from Naxos in
September (8.557645).
Later came other versions,
several of which are on CD. Perhaps
the most high profile was Vladimir Ashkenazy,
the subject of a Promenade Concert in
1989 and coming after he had used the
Funtek version in a celebrated TV film
still available on video (Teldec 9031-70774-3).
The other truly Russian version was
that by Gorchakov (recorded by Kurt
Masur, who first took it up with the
RPO at the Royal Festival Hall in 1983
and recorded it on Teldec 4509-97440-2);
Jukka-Pekka Saraste did a composite
version of the Gorchakov and Funtek
arrangements with the Toronto Symphony
on Finlandia 0630-4911-2. Others include
the Elgar Howarth brass version (on
Doyen CD 011), and the piano-and-orchestra
version by Lawrence Leonard, first issued
in 1992 with Tamás Ungár
the solo pianist and Geoffrey Simon
conducting, and currently available
on Cala CACD 1030. The story goes on
with more familiar versions which include
Tomita’s synthesiser version and Emerson,
Lake and Palmer’s pop one, as well as
those for organ and guitar.
I was on the arena
promenade for this 2004 Prom concert
and confess that I was completely thrown
by the unfamiliar opening Promenade,
in the orchestration by the American
Byrwec Ellison. Ellison is a structural
engineer and self-taught arranger who
has produced a version of Pictures
in which each movement is in the style
of a different major composer. The opening
is intended to be in the style of Britten,
the model chosen being the percussion
movement of Britten’s Young Person’s
Guide. Having the bells give out
the theme at the outset, followed by
the percussion, while certainly arresting,
struck me as a mistake at the beginning,
though the treatment would have probably
worked for one of the later promenades.
It works better on CD, particularly
once one knows what is coming, but it
is my only reservation on a brilliant
compilation.
For "Gnomus",
Slatkin turns to Gorchakov for a darkly-Russian
sound-world, all threatening low brass;
this is a malevolent gnome, beautifully
played by the BBC Symphony Orchestra.
It was a good idea
to follow with Walter Goehr’s muted,
introspective second Promenade, with
its opening solo viola and delicate
textures. During the war, the need for
a small orchestra version must have
prompted Boosey & Hawkes to commission
the conductor/arranger Goehr, father
of Alexander, to produce a version for
a smaller orchestra than the Ravel,
and it is clear from this Promenade
that this was no hack arranging job
– it is beautifully imagined.
Goehr’s Promenade nicely
sets up the shadowed colours of Emile
Naoumoff’s "Il Vecchio Castello"
with its prominent solo piano part.
We are so accustomed to Ravel’s alto
saxophone here, yet it works (if with
different effect) with a variety of
solo instruments, here at first for
alto flute but with the solo piano much
in evidence adding a canonic imitation
of the tune. David Nice, in his excellent
booklet notes reminds us that Bulgarian
Emile Naoumoff (b. 1962) studied composition
under Nadia Boulanger and swept to fame
with a virtuoso performance of Tchaikovsky’s
First Piano Concerto in 1984.
The third Promenade
and "Tuileries", the evocation
of children and governesses in the Tuileries
Gardens, is by another name unknown
to most of us. Geert van Keulen (1992),
contrasting a brooding Russian Promenade,
all brass and winds, suddenly brought
up short by the charming picture of
Paris in the sun, the woodwind all Gallic
elegance and delicate textures.
In "Bydlo"
the portrait of a lumbering Polish ox
cart, we have Ashkenazy’s in-your-face
version, four horns in unison loud from
the outset. Here we are used to Ravel’s
vision of a distant cart getting nearer
(and louder), passing and receding –
possibly the model for Elgar’s "The
Wagon Passes" in his Nursery
Suite. Orchestrators seem to have
taken this idea from an error in the
first edition of the piano work, which
is corrected to start fortissimo from
the outset in the 1931 edition. Well,
having heard it done both ways I must
say I find I prefer Ravel’s portrayal
of a wagon coming and receding – though
Ashkenazy’s pounding setting certainly
grips, and the BBC horns and brass give
it their best.
For the fourth promenade
Slatkin again surprises us with a recent
version by a little-known arranger,
this time the musicologist and composer
Carl Simpson, now the strings very much
in evidence. It leads to the "Ballet
of the Unhatched Chicks" where
Slatkin has chosen the exuberant orchestration
by Lucien Cailliet, the only version
from the 1991 compilation to have survived
into this new one. Cailliet’s virtuosic
woodwind writing crowned by rattle and
trumpet flutter-tonguing is immediately
arresting.
"Two Polish Jews
– Goldenberg and Schmuyle" brings
us to Sir Henry Wood’s version. The
Tushmalov version had only recently
been performed in London’s Queen’s Hall
by Sir Henry Wood, when, in 1915, at
Rosa Newmarch’s suggestion, Wood prepared
his own orchestration, now using all
the movements but like his predecessor
omitting the later promenades. Wood
brought his experience of the then new
British orchestral music to bear on
his task, using a romantic palette and
taking the idiosyncratic sound of camel
bells from Bantock’s Omar Khayyam
to colour "Bydlo," and
harps threaded with paper from Bax's
Spring Fire to punctuate "Goldenberg
and Schmuyle". Wood’s "Bydlo"
was in Slatkin’s first compilation,
now his "Two Polish Jews"
is in this second version. I was interested
to see how the harpists would do their
paper trick, for we wrestled with it
with the harpists when the complete
Wood version was recorded for Lyrita
at Watford in 1991, a recording in the
event never issued. Here in the Albert
Hall the glissandos were a stunning
success and vividly caught by the recording
(track 13, 1’ 42").
Pictures works
remarkably well as a piano concerto.
For the fifth Promenade, the only number
Ravel omitted, Slatkin turns to Lawrence
Leonard’s piano concerto orchestration
(he used Leonard’s opening Promenade
in 1991). Incidentally the booklet gives
Leonard’s dates as 1926-1991 but in
fact he was around long after that and
died in 2001. For the noise and bustle
of the market at Limoges, we have one
of the more brilliant passages in the
version by the Slovenian-born conductor
Leo Funtek, he and the BBC Symphony
Orchestra brilliantly catching the market
women’s arguments in the headlong chattering
wind and percussion colouration.
For the linked pictures
"Catacombae" – "Cum Mortis
in lingua mortua" Slatkin first
looks to another little known recent
version that by the American John Boyd
(1986) running into Ravel’s spooky vision
of Mussorgsky’s fantasy dialogue with
the dead. The low winds are remarkably
well-caught throughout but especially
here. For perhaps in the only place
was I aware of the unwanted contribution
of a lone sufferer from a summer head-cold.
Slatkin has saved Stokowski’s
version for the depiction of the terrifying
ride of the Russian witch Baba-Yaga.
Eight horns and a notable lack of orchestral
padding contribute to the impact of
this brilliantly imagined orchestration.
Many of Stokowski’s arrangements may
have had their origins in his musical
apprenticeship in the organ loft, but
not here – it is uniquely conceived
in terms of the orchestra, and informed
by the technique of the early twentieth
century orchestral masterpieces of which
Stokey was the pioneering champion in
the concert hall. Thrilling in the hall,
it is remarkably well captured on this
CD.
Years ago in an LP
series replete with solecisms as well
as unexpected delights called "Music
for You" the Reader’s Digest issued
the bizarre arrangement of "The
Great Gate of Kiev," with male
voice chorus, by the Australian Douglas
Gamley. I found this in a cut-out bin
somewhere (RDS 6325) perhaps 25 years
ago and have delighted in playing it
to visitors to test their reaction.
One such was Edward Johnson, who many
years later played it to Leonard Slatkin.
He was determined to put it in his new
Pictures compendium, so
the score and parts were tracked down
in Australia, and here we are. It is
only the BBC who could keep a male voice
chorus (I seem to remember 42 strong)
sitting on the platform the whole evening
to sing less than three or four minutes.
The introduction with its bells make
one wonder if we have strayed into the
Coronation Scene of Boris, and
the Albert Hall organ makes a tremendous
contribution, particularly at the end.
But was it worth it: over the top? Of
course, but they do it wonderfully well.
So, not a version for every day, but
a vivid memento of a great evening,
and I predict once you have it, the
space allotted to Pictures on
your shelves will begin to grow.
The coupling is Respighi’s
Pines of Rome, lustily played
by the BBC National Orchestra of Wales
conducted by Tadaaki Otaka on 6 August
2004. I remember being present years
ago when a former BBC Director of Music,
Robert Ponsonby, was asked whether Respighi’s
Feste Romane could be played
at the Proms: "We don’t play that
sort of thing at the Proms" he
replied loftily. Well, thank goodness
they do now, for this is a finely played
performance with an uproarious crescendo
for the final march up the Appian Way.
This must have lifted the roof in the
Royal Albert Hall and was received with
a characteristic ovation.
This recording is notable
for its presence – a real performance
perfectly caught in a big space. Remembering
this is a live reading before a very
large crowd it is remarkable for the
quietness of the audience on a very
warm night, and there is some lovely
playing from all departments. The perspective
of the hall is realistically caught
with the distant quiet wind and brass
in "Pines near a Catacomb"
really sounding far off, while the murmuring
low strings are wonderfully atmospheric.
"The Pines of the Janiculum"
is beautifully caught, with a delightfully
atmospheric solo clarinet. The recording
of a nightingale at the end, so often
awkwardly balanced, is tremendous, singing
naturally in the distances of the Albert
Hall.
Tadaaki Otaka builds
thrilling climaxes, and he lets rip
in "The Pines of the Appian Way"
made all the more exciting by being
underpinned by the newly refurbished
Albert Hall organ. This is certainly
a document of Proms performances at
their best. However, there is an electronic
click in Pines (track 4, 3’54")
not on the original broadcast, and as
there is a similar – and a much more
defacing – blemish on Warner’s companion
"Last Night of the Proms"
set (cd 1 track 5, 00’ 10"). One
wonders whether anyone actually listened
to the masters before sending them to
production and it seems to be on other
copies as well. It probably will not
bother you too much here, but in a quiet
part of Vaughan Williams Five Mystical
Songs on the Last Night disc it
is ruinous. Otherwise this is strongly
recommended.
Lewis Foreman
BBC Symphony Orchestra/Leonard Slatkin 
