Josef Suk’s
Asrael is one of those grand symphonic
beauties that don’t seem to get their due in the concert
hall. It suffers from neglect for no other reason than having
been composed by a composer who isn’t famous enough to
have become a concert program staple. Josef Suk is not alone
in this neglect - every fine work that hasn’t snuck into
the canon of ‘greatest hits’ suffers from it to some
extent. That’s why recordings are so important and wonderful
to have; they allow us cyclically to ‘rediscover’ precisely
these works. They pop up, pique our interest, and remind us of
the hidden gems that can’t all be in the classical Top
40. It would be silly to feign the naïve hope they ever
will … so I content myself with the re- and re-re-discoveries
that come in spurts.
Suk especially deserves regular such spurts. Perhaps you have
come across Suk’s “Summer Tale” (wonderful
recording with Charles Mackerras on Decca) or enjoyed his Elegy
for Violin, Cello and Piano as a filler on a Dvořák
disc like the one by the Florestan Trio (Hyperion). The one-hour
Asrael
Symphony is Suk’s largest work, and arguably his greatest,
too. Well performed, it is, in the best sense, a terrific and
terrifying work.
When you’ve had your fill of the commonly played late romantic
symphonists - whether wallowing Tchaikovsky, melodic Prokofiev,
or atmospheric Sibelius - you could continue with the
Asrael
Symphony on the same qualitative level and hear new, invigorating
sounds on a large musical canvas. Suk’s style has similarities
with his now more famous contemporaries Janáček and
Martinů (the latter not exactly a staple in concert, either),
except that he sounds more like a late 19
th century
composer than an early 20
th century composer - which
is the way I hear Janáček.
Asrael started out as a great five movement symphony in
response to the death of his mentor and father-in-law, Dvořák.
The first movement is an intensely personal requiem without words,
the dark grit and wrenching of a mourning heart being as palpable
as in a Shostakovich string quartet.
After composing the third movement (
Vivace), tragedy struck
again; now in the form of his wife’s death. In response
he scratched plans for the fourth and the final movement and
composed two stirring
Adagios that he tacked on, instead.
The first of the two is calm pain, heaving heavily under the
burden of the death of his wife, Otylka Suk, née Dvořák.
The second feels more like the anger of grief; a bit like the
finale of Mahler’s Sixth on a leash, or the more violent
moments in Sibelius.
If you already love the symphony, Ashkenazy and Ondine offer
one thing that even Kirill Petrenko (CPO), Václav Neumann
(Supraphon), and Václav Talich (also Supraphon) do not
offer: Top notch modern sound - including 5.0 surround if you
are SACD equipped. Perhaps it is Ashkenazy’s involvement,
or something about the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra, that
made me think more of Sibelius hearing this version than any
of the others, but that is not to say that there is something
fishy or foreign about this rendition. In fact, this has got
to be the most pristinely played, and it packs as much of a punch
as the ones mentioned above … and well possibly more.
Jens F. Laurson
see also review by Rob
Barnett
Asrael reviews on MusicWeb
Jiří Bělohlávek’s recording
on Chandos (
Rob
Barnett).
A live recording by Peter Schneider on Actes (
Rob
Barnett).
Kirill Petrenko’s CPO recording (
Rob
Barnett).
A live recording by Jiří Waldhans, on the label “Orchestral
Concert CDs” (
Jonathan
Woolf)
Vaclav Talich’s 1952 recording on Supraphon (
Rob
Barnett).
Paul Serotsky’s program notes on MusicWeb can be read
here
Helsinki Philharmonic
Orchestra/Vladimir Ashkenazy 
[61:32] 
