This release completes the Pierre Boulez DG survey of Bartók’s
major orchestral works. The piano concerto recordings were certainly
received positively,
and reviews of the series of concerts in London heaped praise
on conductor and musicians alike.
For many years my
reference for the Concerto for Two Pianos, Percussion and Orchestra
was that of the Labčcque sisters and Simon Rattle on EMI.
While not definitive as a recording, the release was interesting
in that it had the concerto back to back with the Sonata from
which it derived. My feeling was that the original 1937 Sonata
had a greater feel of originality in terms of sound palette
and rhythmic interest, the Concerto version tending to
diffuse some of that hard-hitting material. Bartók re-invented
the Sonata in partly order to help at a difficult financial
time, not long after he and his second wife Ditta had emigrated
to the U.S. It was first performed in London in 1942, though not
by Bartók and his wife, though they did present the work’s US
premiere in New York a year later, and event which turned out
to be the composer’s last public appearance.
The acuity of Boulez’s
conducting and the detailed nature of DG’s recording goes a long
way towards redressing the problem of Sonata versus Concerto,
but something bothered me about this recording from the start.
In a way, there is always something artificial about making a
recording like this, and with so much going on in a piece like
the Concerto for Two Pianos, Percussion and Orchestra it
must always be a challenge, deciding how to balance what in effect
is an entire battery of soloists in the percussion, two whole
concert grand pianos and a symphonic orchestra. Looking at the
photo in the booklet, it looks as if an excess of space in which
to work was not an issue, and my first remark, the width between
the two pianos in the soundstage, seems to be entirely a studio
invention. When the timps get going at around 3:00 into the first
movement the pianos seem to recede more than one would expect.
The sound of each instrument in the recording is entirely accurate,
and the detail, and dynamics are remarkable: it is the unreality
of the balances and perspectives which are discomforting to my
ears. The centrally placed percussion is rightly forward in the
balance, although the volume and presence in some of the lighter,
more sparkly instruments is a little suspect. The brass is well
on top of the rest of the band when they kick in, woodwinds –
piccolo in particular are spot-lit and sometimes preternaturally
audible, but the strings out on the wings have a tendency to vaporise
in orchestral tuttis.
Don’t get me wrong,
as a performance this is truly excellent, and what we do get is
a recording in which most of the material is presented with truly
analytical precision. There’s some serious fightin’ talk going
on – menace from the pianos, punchy energy from the percussion,
accurately defined shaping of the orchestral sounds. I can’t help
feeling however that this has been undermined somewhat, and somehow,
by the circumstances of the recording. The genuine atmosphere
in the Lento is generated through the power of the music,
somewhat in spite of the rather dry performance conditions – something
for which the quality of the musicianship has to be given its
own fair dues. For some reason the impact of the timpani is rather
weak at the opening of the stunning Allegro non troppo,
while at the same time the triangle is being shoved right up our
collective noses. Again, marvellous playing and a terrific aural
spectacle, but you find yourself sitting not in the best seat
in the house, but in rather more than one hot seat at once.
Moving from London
to Berlin, and the sound perspective is more natural in the Concerto
for Violin and Orchestra No.1, other than the sometimes unnervingly
close soloist. This early work, written while in the throes of
a doomed relationship, is full of romantic lines and emotionally
charged harmonies. I first learned about this work from a Supraphon
live recording with Josef Suk and the Czech Philharmonic conducted
by János Ferencsik, and while the recording is by no means perfect
Suk’s solo violin seems to have the taught emotional essence of
this music wrapped almost to perfection. I compared this to the
1990 Sony recording with Midori and Zubin Mehta, and as with Boulez
also with the Berlin Philharmoniker in the Philharmonie. Midori’s
is an expressive and highly charged performance, but the orchestra
sounds less involved and involving, the same going for the better
known Violin Concerto No.2 with which it is coupled. Nearly
20 years on, and Boulez manages to conjure a more chamber-music
feel from the orchestra, although this might also have something
to do with the closer-miked engineering. There are several points
where the orchestra runs the risk of being swamped by the soloist,
but Gidon Kremer’s narrative style of playing can cope with being
heard under an aural microscope, and as ever the first movement
proves to be a moving experience. Kremer digs ever deeper in the
second movement, creating more of a ‘molto drammatico’ feel than
the marked giocoso, although the witty characterisations
in the orchestra balance this, seeming to beg the soloist to lighten
up. I like Boulez’s sense of the broad sweep of this music, presented
without sentimentality but allowing the musicians free rein where
the scores few real outpourings allow.
The concerto that
had been commissioned by the viola player William Primrose was
far from complete when Bartók died, and the completion of the
piece was left to his friend and colleague Tibor Serly. The
Concerto for Viola and Orchestra had to be constructed
from little more than a pile of sketches, and so the problems
of authenticity and closeness to the composer’s intentions will
always be in doubt. Serly followed the example of the Third
Piano Concerto, another incomplete work in which Bartók had
pared down and simplified his style both musically and texturally,
but the really strongly Bartókian moments are rather few and
far between. Numerous interpreters have tinkered with the score
for recordings, and a strong challenger, that of Kim Kashkashian
with Peter Eötvös on ECM is no exception. Boulez makes no mention
of any significant adjustments, but this remains an impressive
piece of music, even if not one of Bartók’s most distinctive
as it stands. Yuri Bashmet is of course as skilled an advocate
as one could ask for in this work, which has a demanding part
for the soloist. The deeper voice of the viola suits the balance
better in this piece, and the relationship between soloist and
orchestra is less uncomfortable than in the Violin Concerto.
The beautiful second movement, Adagio religioso is one
of the highlights, with the warm interactions and sometimes
startling interjections between orchestra and soloist having
the kind of clean, uncomplicated quality which comes closest
to Bartók. Bashmet creates a wonderful folk-like character in
his instrument in the Allegro vivace third movement,
and the orchestral playing is full of sparkle and wit.
With two world class orchestras and an extraordinary group of
soloists, this was always going to be a top notch release, and
anyone who has already taken a punt on the piano concertos need
have no qualms about completing the set. Boulez has of course
recorded and performed a great deal of Bartók before now, and
his innate feel for that composer’s idiom and character is amply
shown both here and elsewhere in the DG catalogue. I stand by
my comments on the recordings, but I have no doubt there will
be those who find them to be overly critical. The Concerto
for Two Pianos, Percussion and Orchestra is a grand performance
despite everything, and the performance is the most important
element after all. I suppose I long too much for something more
akin to a concert-hall balance, but then we would have moaning
that you can’t hear enough detail. The solo violin which
is too loud in the overall balance is a common problem, and
seems unlikely to go away despite whatever us reviewers say.
Again, the performance is an excellent one, and put along with
Bartók’s final statement in solo string concerto form this makes
for a superb programme of some of this composer’s less commonly
recorded works.
Dominy Clements
Pierre-Laurent Aimard, Tamara Stefanovich (pianos), Nigel Thomas,
Neil Percy (percussion) London Symphony Orchestra (Sz 115) 
