Mussorgsky’s Pictures were originally composed for the 
                piano. In that form he created a spacious canvas necessitating 
                something of a symphonic sound from the piano. This proved exquisitely 
                demanding and only a few brave pianists, including Prokofiev, 
                dared to scale its fearsome crags. Maurice Ravel, to whom we owe 
                its renown, was paid 10,000 francs to orchestrate it for Serge 
                Koussevitzky. But as one might look at and interpret a picture 
                in many different ways so then different sonic paint brushes might 
                offer alternative views and insights? Thus Leonard Slatkin’s notion 
                to bring together an eclectic selection of arrangements, some 
                quite outlandish, might seem fresh and appealing? 
                
D. 
                  Wilson-Ochoa is the Nashville Symphony’s Principal Music Librarian 
                  and former horn player. His neat opening ‘Promenade’ [1] was 
                  arranged, using woodwinds, at first, then pizzicato strings. 
                  This walking bass/cello line leads into the orchestral build-up, 
                  to give the impression of the visitor arriving at the gallery 
                  with mounting excitement and anticipation of seeing its treasures. 
                  Sergey Gorchakov’s portrait of Gnomus [2] is simpler, 
                  more sober and menacing than Ravel’s; his colours darker. Walter 
                  Goehr’s ‘Promenade’ [3] is calmly introspective as the visitor 
                  passes thoughtfully on; it features sensitive use of solo strings, 
                  double woodwind and muted brass. Emile Naoumoff’s entrancing 
                  arrangement of Il vecchio castello [4] has, at its heart, 
                  a glistening piano solo with woodwinds and cellos sounding the 
                  lilting Italian Sicilienne – absolutely gorgeous. Van 
                  Keulen’s ‘Promenade’ [5] is a much grander walk while his Tuileries 
                  [6] is a perky arrangement full of childish mischief and high 
                  spirits. Wind and brass are delicately mixed - woodwinds supported 
                  by muted trombones and trumpet – to create an appealing pastel. 
                  Conductor/pianist Vladimir Ashkenazy makes an impact with four 
                  horns in unison. Low strings and heavy percussion are used to 
                  underline the heaviness of Bydlo his picture of the Polish 
                  cart on enormous wheels [7].
                
Carl 
                  Simpson’s ‘Promenade’ [8] is brief and straightforward but with 
                  an unexpected cheeky cheep anticipating – Ballet of the unhatched 
                  chicks [9]. Lucien Cailliet was a student of Vincent D’Indy, 
                  His arrangement exerts his imaginative faculties to the full, 
                  out Ravel-ing Ravel. He makes exuberant use of wood-block, rattle 
                  and a flutter-tonguing blast from the trumpet. Sir Henry Wood’s 
                  vision of the Two Jews … [10] markedly underlines 
                  the differences between the two: the rich one glowering and 
                  overwhelming and the cowering pauper. The next ‘Promenade’ [11] 
                  (and the one that Ravel left out) is by Lawrence Leonard. It’s 
                  grand too , in terms of its rich harmonies and orchestrations; 
                  carrying on the self-regarded magnificence - one might say - 
                  of the rich Jew. Leo Funtek’s picture of French women arguing 
                  around a market square in Limoges, Le marché [12] makes 
                  for a snappy riot of colour. Funtek surmounts its challenges 
                  of articulation through its brief 1:26 of presto writing. 
                  The Catacombae [13] of John Boyd, demonstrates his experience 
                  with wind, brass and percussion. It is a haunted subterranean 
                  vision and is more menacing than Ravel’s portrait. It leads 
                  seamlessly into Ravel’s own arrangement of Con mortuis in 
                  lingua mortua [14]. As David Nice says, “the French 
                  master’s subtle halos and shadows remain uniquely evocative.’ 
                  That wonderful orchestrator, Leopold Stokowski, adds his characteristically 
                  vivid colouring to The hut on fowl’s legs (Baba-Yaga) 
                  [15]. This is a satanic portrait using four trumpets and eight 
                  horns supported by shrill whistling upper woods, to evoke Baba-Yaga’s 
                  terror-filling flight. 
                
The 
                  concluding The Bogatyr Gate at Kiev [16] is the most 
                  substantial picture. Douglas Gamley paints this massive gate 
                  in resplendent colours using to fine effect the chorus of the 
                  Nashville Symphony and an organ. What magnificence - magnificence 
                  to rival 1812! 
                
Liszt’s 
                  first surviving piano concerto was sketched out in 1832, when 
                  the composer was 21. It was only orchestrated 17 years later, 
                  with the help of the young composer Joachim Raff. Its first 
                  performance in 1853 at Weimar was conducted by Berlioz. Revisions 
                  followed in 1857. Its three movements are cyclically connected. 
                  This striking live recording of Peng Peng’s articulate and polished 
                  reading is sturdy in the portentous episodes and sensitively 
                  shaded in the quieter and more introspective passages. Slatkin 
                  gives sterling support. 
                
Rob 
                  Mathes’s arrangement of The Star Spangled Banner was 
                  commissioned by the National Symphony Orchestra under its conductor 
                  Leonard Slatkin. It was conceived as a eulogy on the tragedy 
                  of 9/11. This performance - part grandiloquent, part restrained 
                  - is affecting. 
                
              
Instead 
                of the familiar Ravel orchestrations of Mussorgsky’s Pictures 
                here is an eclectic collection of alternatives, always colourful 
                and often arresting.
              
Ian 
                Lace