Happily, this new
Manfred arrived just a few days before
Vassily Petrenko was due to conduct the same work at the BBC Proms
(see
review).
The latter’s much-fêted Naxos recording (see
review)
also heralds something of a musical renaissance for the Royal
Liverpool Philharmonic, which is playing better today than it
has for years. It’s clear from this new Kitaienko disc that
the Gürzenich band is also in good shape, and with the help
of Cybele AV they’re presented here in glorious, full-bodied
Super Audio sound. Petrenko is not so blessed, either on disc
or via the Proms relay, but what I wanted to know is how he compares
with Kitaienko in terms of overall performance. It turned out
to be a most instructive exercise.
Lord Byron’s dramatic poem
Manfred, written between
1816 and 1817, is one of the cornerstones of Romanticism. The
eponymous hero, tortured by the death of his beloved Astarte,
seeks in vain for some kind of redemption. His singleness of purpose
is typically Faustian but, unlike the latter, his eventual death
is gratefully received. Byron’s lines - remarkable in their
emotional range and intensity - make
Manfred an obvious
choice for 19
th-century composers, yet only Schumann
and Tchaikovsky took up the challenge. Conductors seem equally
reticent -
Manfred is the least recorded of Tchaikovsky’s
symphonies - but thankfully there are fine versions from the likes
of Riccardo Muti (EMI) and Mariss Jansons (Chandos).
Within seconds it’s obvious that Kitaienko’s
Manfred
is going to be something special. The sheer desolation of that
opening phrase has seldom been so keenly felt, that haunting tune
destined to return - like a Berliozian
idée fixe
- throughout the symphony. Some may baulk at Kitaienko’s
rather slow speeds, but then this is a more spacious reading than
most, teasing out all the music’s ravishing details. The
deep, wide sound-stage and the pleasing concert hall ambience
really help here, the magisterial climax at the end of the first
movement blossoming to thrilling effect. This is a very different
performance to either of Petrenko’s, both of which strike
me as somewhat unrelenting in their forcefulness and drive. Yes,
they are exciting, but alongside the dark intensity and Byronic
brooding of Kitaienko’s performance they seem curiously
one-dimensional.
Make no mistake, Kitaienko is alive to the changing moods and
textures of this work, the scurrying figures of the second movement
as light and airy as one could wish for, the bright flutes and
harp flourishes especially well caught. All too often
Manfred
can seem like a series of discrete
tableaux, but in Kitaienko’s
hands there’s a strong narrative, a dramatic coherence,
that is most welcome. Indeed, the
longueurs that afflict
even the best performances of
Manfred are entirely absent
here, the mind and ear constantly surprised and delighted by what
unfolds. There’s little of that sense of discovery with
Petrenko, whose thrust and thrill approach tends to miss some
of the the shifts and shades of this score.
The third movement is surely the most balletic, Kitaienko infusing
the opening bars with a gentle lift and elegance that is most
beguiling. The Gürzenich band respond with playing of great
refinement, the climaxes carefully paced and scaled in a reading
that seems so much better proportioned and more sensibly weighted
than usual. Really, this is a deeply penetrating performance,
the characterful, beautifully blended wind playing at the end
of this movement encapsulating everything that is so admirable
about this disc. Try as I might, I simply cannot engage with Petrenko
here, even though the RLPO play their hearts out for him. And
anyone watching the televised Prom will see from the players’
body language that he really has energised this orchestra.
The fourth movement - also the longest - is usually the one where
I’m likely to ‘wool gather’ - to use Forster’s
phrase - but thankfully Kitaienko has the orchestra on a very
tight rein. The brass and percussion are simply splendid, the
growing tension more palpable than I’ve heard in ages. As
for the mighty tam-tam and bass drum they emerge with a clarity
and impact one seldom hears in the concert hall. It’s thrilling
stuff, yet there’s no denying the profound sense of melancholy
that lurks just beneath the surface - epitomised by the reprise
of that opening motif - and that’s one element I don’t
hear enough of in Petrenko’s readings. And just in case
you think Kitaienko is
too introspective, try the orchestral
earthquake that strikes at 9:58.
Now there’s one aspect of this performance that will polarise
opinion, and that’s the organ in the work’s closing
pages. At the Prom Petrenko has the Albert Hall organ at his disposal
- and what a glorious sound it makes - but Tchaikovsky originally
scored the passage for the more discreet harmonium. I suppose
we ought to be grateful that wheezy old relic isn’t used
here any more, but listening to the much more restrained Kölner
Philharmonie organ I’m persuaded this is the weight and
blend of sound Tchaikovsky had in mind. After all, this isn’t
the Saint-Saëns
Organ Symphony, nor is it an ode by
Klopstock. For the Romantic hero ‘half in love with easeful
death’ this is no blazing apotheosis, but an end that’s
gratefully acknowledged and nobly borne. This music has seldom
sounded so moving, Kitaienko gauging the valedictory mood with
great sensitivity and style.
All too rarely one hears performances that challenge convention
and old favourites alike. This
Manfred is one of them,
outshining Petrenko - and others - at every turn. As for the Gürzenich
orchestra, they play with a passion and polish that wouldn’t
disgrace a top-flight international band. Couple that with a fresh,
invigorating take on a hoary old favourite and yes, you have a
Manfred to die for.
Dan Morgan
Gürzenich-Orchester Köln/Dmitri Kitaienko 
[61:25] 
