It’s the First that’s
the more performed and admired but Kalinnikov’s
Second Symphony has warm-hearted and
lasting virtues of its own. And in a
powerful performance such as this one,
recorded in Moscow in 1968, those qualities
of lyrical ardour and masculine dynamism
are as evident as ever. Which is not
to say that the Svetlanov traversal
is the last word in, say, orchestral
refinement but against such minor limitations
can be ranged persuasive levels of energy
and good old-fashioned fossil fuel when
it comes to the heart of the matter.
Kalinnikov was not
one to hang around on an orchestral
exposition when he could get into the
second subject with alacrity – which
is what happens here. Svetlanov, as
much as he did in his similarly felicitous
recording of the First Symphony, brings
a wonderfully raw intensity to the lyric
feeling and to the folkloric elements
alike. Certainly the 1968 sound has
a whiskery old roughness to it – maybe
not inappropriately if you want to be
charitable – and that suits the gruff
old fugato in the first movement. Fresh
exuberance is the name of the game despite
the echo-y acoustic.
Svetlanov plots an
astute course throughout – the rise
and fall, the arc of the slow movement
and its symmetry in particular. The
Rimsky influence is suggestive but not
made bloatedly obvious. The elegantly
bucolic moments in the scherzo, with
its delightful trio, are similarly verdant
commodities of value. If the finale,
after its brief lyrical introduction
(shades, symmetrically speaking, of
the opening movement’s exposition),
doesn’t quite live up to expectations
then there are compensations; the brash
confidence of the writing brings its
own rewards.
The remainder of the
programme was recorded many years later
in 1990 but that pervasive studio echo
is still there. Svetlanov doesn’t over-inflate
the Intermezzos, both written at around
the time Kalinnikov wrote the Second
Symphony. There’s the same eager lyricism
and proud folk lilt to the writing in
the First Intermezzo. In the Second
the writing is rather more stentorian
and perhaps less likeable as a result.
The Serenade is a rather earlier work.
It has a pleasant patina – but its waltz
profile is rather repetitious and the
Tchaikovskian elements that animate
it are stifling. Finally there is Nymphs
(1889). Though earlier than the
Serenade this is a much better work
– it’s dramatic but has a terpsichorean
grace and a lusty central section that
compels interest. Kalinnikov’s rhythmic
rapacity is keen here and this is an
unexpected pleasure.
A slightly different
perspective on the Symphony comes from
Neeme Järvi and the Scottish National
on Chandos – broader in the opening
movement and tighter in the Andante
cantabile. But as for the current
disc these are, as one would expect
of Svetlanov, direct and powerfully
energised performances, dedicated to
exploring Kalinnikov’s melodic and rhythmic
strengths. Those sympathetic to such
things will find that this revivified
Melodiya hits all the right emotive
spots.
Jonathan Woolf
for
details
USSR Symphony Orchestra/Evgeni Svetlanov
