Mussorgsky never managed
to finish Khovanshchina, although
he worked on it for eight years. Long
periods of alcoholism and illness prevented
him from composing and what was left
behind when he passed away was completed
and orchestrated by Rimsky-Korsakov.
It took another five years after the
composer’s death before the work was
premiered. Although never established
as a standard work in the way Boris
Godunov has, it is still such a
fascinating drama that it returns to
the opera houses fairly frequently.
During the 20th century it
became obvious that Rimsky-Korsakov’s
performing version had smoothed out
much of Mussorgsky’s highly original
and bold harmonies. Several attempts
have been made to recreate Mussorgsky’s
initial ideas, and what today is performed
is Shostakovich’s orchestration, often
with Stravinsky’s ending. This is the
case with the two most recommendable
recordings on the market, Abbado on
DG and Gergiev on Philips. The only
performance I have seen live was at
the Finnish National Opera in Helsinki
a couple of years ago, where conductor
Mikko Franck had composed a further
new ending, which worked well. (See
review
by Bill Kenny at Seen and Heard).
The present recording,
made back in 1946 utilizes the Rimsky
version and so isn’t quite comparable
to the others. Still it has much to
offer and, although Rimsky-Korsakov’s
completions have streamlined the music,
it is still a highly personal and deeply
moving work, firmly rooted in old Russian
history and music. The recording date
hints that we have to expect murky sound
and bad definition, but that is far
from the truth. On the contrary I was
positively surprised when I started
listening to the atmospheric, chamber
music like introduction. This is well
caught with every instrumental detail
laid bare and an almost stereophonic
separation. Ward Marston must have worked
wonders with the original 78s but it
also seems that they must have been
in extremely good fettle. The playing
under the legendary Khaikin is splendid
and the Persian dances in Act 4 (CD
2 track 11) are done with real verve.
Less enticing is the
choral singing. There is no denying
the authenticity of the performances;
the singers must have had this music
in their veins. However the actual sound
is less than ingratiating. This is a
matter of different choral traditions:
the Slavonic tradition aiming more at
expressiveness and force but caring
very little about vocal timbre. There
is a great deal of wobbling and shrillness
and none of the blend and equalization
we have come to expect in the West.
When as a youngster I listened to the
legendary Don Cossacks I had the same
feeling – and still have: it sounds
under-rehearsed, but of course it isn’t.
Readers who want a smoother delivery
should be warned, and since the chorus
plays a central part in this opera it
is a significant warning. Still this
is only one side of the coin. There
is tremendous feeling whenever they
appear and when singing softly the Kirov
chorus can produce really beautiful
sounds. Try the Streltsy chorus in Act
3 (CD 2 track 8) to hear what I mean.
These reservations
also apply to some of the solo singing,
especially the high voices. The tenors
generally have metallic timbres and
quite wide vibratos. Best of them is
Ivan Nechayev as Prince Andrey Khovansky,
who is a real character all through
the opera. In the last act he finds
a warmer tone to compensate for the
aggressiveness earlier on. The two sopranos
are more or less comprimarios, so their
shrieks are a liability. Marfa is one
of the truly great female roles in Russian
opera and Sofya Preobrazhenskaya has
many of the qualities one ideally wants:
a fruity, vibrant voice with a warm
timbre. She is actually more contralto
than mezzo and in some places her vibrato
is also a mite too generous. This is
however a classy voice and she appears
deeply involved. Try her Act 2 aria
(CD 1 track 13), the even more moving
episode from Act 3 (CD 2 track 2) and
in the final act (CD 3 tracks 4-6).
The deeper male voices
are all good but some of them display
a certain throatiness, that to some
extent has to do with the language.
Not even Chaliapin was wholly free from
it. Boris Freidkov as Prince Ivan Khovansky
also has it but this is a great voice,
big and warm and it has very little
of the baritonal timbre that many basses
adopt in the upper register.
Still better, and actually
the main reason for owning this recording,
is Mark Reizen as Dosifey. Here is a
voice – and a singer! – to challenge
all the great names of the last century.
He seems to have an unlimited supplies
of power and of vocal colour. He ranges
from a lyrical high baritone to a super
dramatic basso profundo. He is keen
with his words. All in all, one of the
most complete opera basses ever recorded.
His first act solo (CD 1 track 11) is
as good evidence as any, the act 5 aria
(CD 3 track 1) even more so.
Khovanshchina
is a monumental work, more epic than
dramatic maybe, but within its limitations
powerful and thought-provoking. The
present version is valuable as it preserves
a performing style with its roots in
the 19th century but today
in the main lost. It also gives today’s
listeners the opportunity to hear a
couple of the greatest Russian singers
of the era, first and foremost Mark
Reizen. The sound quality is remarkably
good with the solo voices well to the
fore, and the orchestra still making
its mark.
As so often with these
reissues Naxos offer a substantial appendix,
in this case two: the first one with
three separately recorded excerpts from
Khovanshchina, two of them with
the great Nadezhda Obukhova as Marfa:
a brighter voice than Preobrazhenskaya’s
with a more controlled vibrato and an
impressive chest register, singing with
restrained intensity in the first excerpt;
mellower in the extremely beautiful
third act aria. Pavel Andreyev as the
chief of police sings with a Chaliapin-like
timbre and delivery but is a bit strained.
There are also some mechanical bumps
at the beginning of the track.
The second appendix
contains a selection of Mussorgsky’s
songs. Here we meet Mark Reizen again
in Song of the flea where he
lightens his voice remarkably and is
wonderfully flexible. His diabolic laughter
is also priceless. In The seminarist
he is again the darkly imposing basso
profundo. Preobrazhenskaya, recorded
five years after the complete opera,
is actually lighter of voice here and
sings a very moving, inward Hebrew
song. Chaliapin’s Trepak
is of course a legendary recording with
all the fine nuances he had in his armoury.
Igor Gorin’s high baritone, not unlike
Hvorostovsky’s, also has colours galore
and he is recorded with stunning realism
back in 1939. Vladimir Rosing was another
expressive singer who here inflects
the songs so realistically that one
can almost see his facial expressions.
Listen to The he-goat! (CD 3
track 18). Finally Mascia Predit, rather
dimly recorded, gives deeply-felt renderings
of Night and especially Where
are you, little star? with sensitive
accompaniments by Gerald Moore.
A first recommendation for the opera
alone has to be Abbado on DG or, perhaps
even better, on DVD with practically
the same cast and at a fraction of the
CD price. (See John Leeman’s review).
But as a complement this Naxos set is
a good buy, primarily for Reizen and
Preobrazhenskaya and for the substantial
appendix.
Göran Forsling
Mascia Predit (soprano), Gerald Moore (piano)
(rec. in London 1950) 
