During the last year
it has been my good fortune to learn
more of Constantin Silvestri (1913-1969)
as a fully rounded musician, rather
than just as a conductor. Performances
of his music (review)
and reading the only biography of him
to appear in English (review)
have no doubt been a great help in this,
but for many Silvestri remains known
exclusively as a conductor of some merit.
This second BBC Legends
set of Silvestri-led performances is
a valuable one because it largely presents
works that the maestro never recorded
commercially, the exception being Enescu’s
First Rhapsody. There were plans to
record the Elgar symphonies and even
maybe The Dream of Gerontius
with the BSO for EMI, but Silvestri
died before the sessions could take
place.
Another point of interest
is the provenance of these recordings
– each, with the exception of Arnold’s
Beckus the Dandipratt overture,
was recorded from radio broadcasts by
Silvestri himself. His personal recording
collection today forms part of the Wessex
Film and Sound Archive, now the only
available source for these recordings;
the original BBC tapes appear to have
been lost or deleted. That Silvestri
found these performances worth preserving
is the point. Whether he intended to
use them for pure enjoyment’s sake or
as private reference for future recordings,
noting from them what worked well or
not so well, is not known.
Silvestri’s EMI recording
of Elgar’s In the South has long
held the interest of collectors and
alerted listeners to the conductor’s
credentials. His conception of Elgar
to my ears is somewhat more hot-blooded
than you get with, say, Adrian Boult.
That does not suggest however that Silvestri
cannot be just as persuasive. His Cockaigne
overture (In London Town) is
drawn across a fairly large canvas with
bold gestures. You feel that this is
perhaps not a native Londoner’s account,
but Silvestri swaggers with confidence
and affection along the city streets
as he takes the BSO through the score.
Elgar has never seemed
to me the most natural of symphonists.
Indeed, it is worth noting that Elgar
himself took time to come to terms with
his compositions in the genre. That
Silvestri largely makes sense of the
work and convinces me that Elgar is
an impressive symphonist is much to
his credit. The work doesn’t adopt the
notion of contrasting ideas throughout
its duration, but presents this idea
in contrast with the slow evolution
of phrasing from a germinal idea.
Silvestri launches
the opening movement by adopting a broad
tempo that amply brought out the ‘nobilmente’
inherent in scoring and directive marking.
The BSO plays with surging tone that
carries a strong sweep to the line,
and even slow-building premonition at
times. That the orchestra has been well
drilled is evident, with clarity of
individual lines being important for
Silvestri. He is not afraid to shade
down more than other conductors (notably
Boult) at times but the playing he secures
falls squarely within the natural Elgarian
tradition. The second movement is taken
at a brisk striding pace with the brass
and timpani coming well to the fore
when required. Real enjoyment is captured
in the music-making. The third movement
is notable for the BSO’s luxuriant string
tone and delicately spun wind lines
– a fine testament to the level of playing
Silvestri brought the BSO to during
his tenure. The closing movement has
a grandeur about it that still further
bespeaks confidence in the playing,
moving from passages tinged with shadows
and half-lights recalling the opening
movement towards a conclusion that carried
forward by its own inevitability.
Malcolm Arnold’s wonderfully
titled Beckus the Dandipratt
overture can easily be thought to be
an English cousin of Strauss’s Till
Eulenspiegel. There’s certainly fun
to be had here and Silvestri – a man
of keen wit himself – leaves no joke
untold. That the idiom of the piece
seems resolutely to straddle the idioms
of both English and continental Romanticism
at times surely helps Silvestri’s cause.
Just as in rehearsals he would flit
between languages to get his point across,
so it is with the music here. Who’s
to mind if it’s a strange mix; it works
wonderfully and one can sense the BSO’s
enjoyment of the high jinx too. The
LPO are about to release a recent live
account of this overture under the direction
of Vernon Handley. I’m willing to bet
that it’s a close run thing between
the two accounts; with stereo sound
of some immediacy adding to the attractiveness
of Silvestri’s account; this is a version
that will take some beating.
For me the high point
of the set is found at the start of
the second disc: Tchaikovsky’s Second
Symphony. With the first and the third
symphonies, or the latter two piano
concertos, it has been long overlooked
by the public, orchestras, conductors
and music promoters. Silvestri makes
a serious and cogent case for its place
in the mainstream repertoire of any
self-respecting orchestra. Unafraid
to demand bold, though never harsh,
playing from the BSO, Silvestri draws
out the drama of the work in the grandest
of gestures. The
opening Andante sostenuto is immediately
meditative in character, before contrasting
with a rather livelier Allegro vivo
second section. With his instinct for
dramatic contrast, Silvestri makes much
of the movement through investing it
with strong rhythmic incisiveness whilst
never neglecting sonority of brass parts
in particular. The march rhythms evident
within the second movement rise and
fall in prominence throughout is span
to create gentle contrasts with more
lyric material. The brisk scherzo and
trio third movement showcases some lively
upbeat playing across all orchestral
sections, often with delicacy being
at the forefront of considerations.
Silvestri however ensures that contrasting
emotions are present as he builds the
influence of certain and imposing passages.
The final movement picks up on this
notion with grandly phrased brass and
timpani opening flourishes, before moving
on to efficiently contrast three distinct
sections and secure a powerful conclusion.
Listen to how the piccolo line bounces
jauntily along briefly to provide colour
against the massed strings and percussion.
Indeed, with all Silvestri’s undoubted
affinity for the showy elements of music-making,
there is much material here that suits
his particular style of music-making.
The BSO are more than willing to follow
his lead. This is a reading I will revisit
with much enthusiasm for the contributions
of all concerned. As in the Elgar symphony,
the sound quality is very clear. Climaxes
are full and uncongested, with piano
lines being well captured too.
Debussy’s Jeux
comes from an entirely different sound
world, but one that Silvestri had some
experience of as head of the Paris orchestra
after leaving Bucharest. The quality
of the sound does much to disrupt Silvestri’s
game of tennis with Debussy, so much
so that it seems one game short of being
a full set played. With so much of the
score reliant upon spatial clarity and
the vivid interplay of voices it’s a
shame that the somewhat congested acoustic
does not let something more representative
of Silvestri’s full interpretation to
come through. Another mixed success
is the recording of Britten’s Four
Sea Interludes from Peter Grimes
which is marred by significant audience
coughing in places.
Enescu might have grown
to particularly resent that his youthful
first rhapsody overshadowed more intricate
and representative compositions, but
Silvestri made it his calling card encore
of choice around the concert halls of
the world. Standing in the wings he
would give a signal for the wind soloists
to begin the freely spun opening, prior
to Silvestri timing his arrival at the
podium to bring in the first orchestral
tutti. A clap-trap, sure, but
then perhaps only a showy and mercurial
genius such as Silvestri could pull
it off with fresh abandon time after
time. This account certainly makes his
Vienna Philharmonic studio recording
seem a touch lacking in willingness
to push things to extremes. Underneath
it all though is a feeling for the music
and a joy in making it that is never
in doubt alongside such evident affection
for his homeland.
Silvestri’s reputation
as a serious and colourful maestro is
well served by these vividly characterised
performances: this 2 CD set is most
enthusiastically recommended.
Evan Dickerson
for
details
Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra/Constantin Silvestri
