Yes, it’s out on Aulos,
the fabled Svetlanov cycle of 1967.
It’s a pity that the earlier 1961 Manfred
isn’t here as well though one can understand
the reasoning and it has been available
as a "single" over the years.
Still, few drove Manfred like Svetlanov.
Come to that few drove the symphonies
like Svetlanov. I last saw the set on
Melodiya issued over a decade ago though
the first three symphonies were also
issued somewhat later in the 1990s in
a separate Melodiya box in America.
Various symphonies have made appearances
as well on isolated discs such as the
Fifth on CDKM (who also issued a bumper
box of most if not all the Svetlanov
Tchaikovsky) and doubtless other labels
have licensed them as well. Now it’s
Aulos’s turn and they have had access
to the master tapes as they’ve had in
their previous releases of discs by
such as Shafran, Pletnev, Oistrakh and
others.
The sound therefore
is clear and unimpeded by the kinds
of extraneous detritus that can afflict
badly dealt with LP transfers. Nevertheless,
as collectors will know, little can
really be done to mitigate the deficiencies
of the original set up – the most noticeable
of which are a blare in the brass, some
muddied inner voicings, and a certain
amount of compression. The idiosyncrasies
of the playing won’t have escaped anyone’s
attention. The strings are generally
fine, especially the violas and cellos,
though they’re not always as tidy as
the tidiest of the rivals. The winds
are a characterful though rather inconsistent
bunch and suffer from poor intonation.
The principal oboe was not at his best
in the recording of the Fourth and the
principal clarinet could be hit and
miss (though when he hits he hits supremely
well). The horns suffer from the accustomed
Russian blur and the trumpets’ stridency
is exacerbated by the recording.
These are the "buts",
and readers will know of them. For newcomers,
who may not know it Svetlanov was competing
at the time with such as Giulini, Previn
and, especially, Maazel whose ideas
of orchestral discipline, sonority and
weight were very different from his
own. Given these strictures the collector
may decide to forego these somewhat
erratic performances with their woolly
horns, wandering intonation and personalised
views of tempo relations. And that,
as they say, would be a huge mistake.
Svetlanov’s cycle is
one of the most galvanic, intense, troubled,
driving, inconsistent and remarkable
that you could wish to hear. Taken individually
there are superiors in a number of the
symphonies and even at his best there
are always points of contention – a
really very fast allegro here, a too
speeded up accelerando there, paragraphal
passage points that don’t quite work
– but taken as a whole, as a considered
body of work, then I have to say that
Svetlanov is a magnificent guide. Passionate,
quixotic and debatable though he may
be this is an unmissable set for all
its faults and I would happily forego
the pleasures of silken sheen for the
rough linen of his way with the symphonies.
The First gets
a strong, driving performance. Lean
lower strings, fine pizzicati in the
first movement, somewhat flaring horns
fixing the harmony. There’s a most attractively
shaped slow movement – wonderful string
gauze, effortlessly sprung rhythm, pirouetting
strings: superb cellos. The scherzo
has nice blustery outer sections and
a central lissom waltz with vigorous
lilt, the finale a suitably lugubrious
start and then passionate drive, a solid
old fugue, and more grim concentration.
Not the neatest account ever but a powerfully
convincing and totally absorbed reading.
No.2 gets another
outstanding reading – fast, buoyant,
captivating and uncut, which certainly
wasn’t always the case in those days.
The opening is terse and dynamic, fast
and biting. Svetlanov gives us the ominous
and saturnine as much as he does the
drive and blister. He is careful not
to relax too much through the development.
The slow movement is amiable, perhaps,
rather than marziale as marked
and there’s a gentleness to the string
entries that may impress those used
to more blustery and imperial performances.
Slashing strings drive the super-fast
scherzo – powerful rhythm, full of sap,
pipy folksy relish in the winds - the
USSR winds were especially good at the
rusticities here. The finale is vibrant
and stirring with also a curve to the
string melodies; they play the folk-song
embedded here, The Crane, with especial
relish. A wonderfully life-affirming
reading; brash maybe but engulfing.
When we arrive at No.3
The Polish we find Svetlanov
still in full flow. The opening funèbre
is taken at a decent speed though the
succeeding tempo adjustments are not
always exactly seamless. The strings
remain bold and vigorous, the trumpets’
tone is searching and insistent and
if ensemble suffers at some of the tempi
Svetlanov orders, then the benefits
are those of adrenalin-inducing drama.
Lend an ear in particular to the middle-voiced
strings as they unfold their yearning
cantilevered melody in the slow movement
and also listen to the relatively restrained
tempo for the finale. Here the sense
of controlled power is palpable and
the fugal passages sound splendid.
I liked his Fourth
though I can imagine there would
be objections to some of the solo playing
and the corporate ensemble does come
under great strain from time to time.
I happen to find the brass here vibrant
and exciting, but also that the strings
aspire to, and often achieve, a degree
of balletic grace. The histrionic is
kept under control – for all his intensity
and galvanizing attack Svetlanov was
seldom a really histrionic conductor
though he was a blazingly exciting one
- and one finds tempi are not unduly
forced. Note the trombone descant and
the individual colour evoked by clarinet
and bassoon. The slow movement in particular
gains from this control with a very
natural tempo and perfectly timed pizzicati,
though the oboe solo is deadpan. Much
better are the scherzo’s folkloric winds,
the bellicose brass, and the gloriously
rough and ready, hell-for-leather finale.
If there’s a letdown
in the set then it’s the Fifth.
It’s not quite up to the level of the
others and tends to promote beef at
the expense of lyricism. The opening
movement begins with encouraging portentousness
but there’s a rather unyielding directness
about its development. The slow movement
is marred by the tone of the principal
horn whose solo, however well phrased,
sounds bad. The scherzo I find curiously
uninvolving and the finale’s gear changes,
whilst exciting, sound just too forced
to be really convincing. There’s a brusqueness
here that some may approve and an undeniable
excitement but too many details count
against it.
Finally to the Pathétique
which somewhat restores the balance.
The blanched opening and perhaps
rather cosy allegro are deceptive; the
development is fast and exciting but
Svetlanov doesn’t ratchet tension too
much in the opening. The slow movement
is relatively fast and he doesn’t indulge
rubati, as some of his contemporaries
were fond of doing here; some may miss
that. The scherzo sports some aerial
playing and a real lightness of articulation.
And the finale balances the first movement;
if it seems constrained Svetlanov is
preparing for the blaring climax. Few
could blaze with brass and percussion
like Svetlanov and he doesn’t disappoint
here, though some may feel the actual
timing a little awry.
A glorious set then,
all told. Uneven, certainly, and none
perhaps first choices. The playing can
be scrappy, the recording not of the
finest. But the dynamism of the playing,
the buoyancy of the tempos, the folkloric
kick of the winds and the seductive
sway of those cellos and violas are
all vibrancy personified. The Fifth
is a bit of a misfire and individual
moments elsewhere won’t necessarily
convince. If you go for smoother textures,
more suave underlining don’t bother
with Svetlanov; he’s the antithesis
of what you like. But for excitement
without hysteria, vibrancy without
crudity, this could be your set
– even though it was recorded, and how
amazing this now seems, just about forty
years ago.
Jonathan Woolf
USSR Symphony Orchestra/Evgeny Svetlanov 
