This concert was given at the Royal Festival Hall in London
in April 1967, by the Warsaw Philharmonic Orchestra under a
fairly frequent visitor to the city, Witold Rowicki. It’s
notable for two things. The first is a rare outing for the Britten
Violin Concerto and the second is a blistering performance of
Tchaikovsky’s Fourth Symphony - in particular the first
movement which generates visceral reserves of tension that do
not lessen throughout the entire performance.
Britten’s Concerto is played by Wanda Wilkomirska (b.1929)
who I’m sure has a secure place in many collectors’
hearts. Her affinity with British music is not quite exiguous.
She recorded all three numbered Delius sonatas, which was quite
a feat for the time. But she is mainly known on disc for her
recordings for Muza and Connoisseur; I think particularly of
her discs of the Karłowicz, Szymanowski and Khachaturian
Concertos; of her Shostakovich No.2, her Bacewicz and her memorable
recordings of Szymanowski’s chamber music, in multiple
performances.
Rowicki directs the Britten cleverly; he starts off much slower
than John Barbirolli, whose (at the time unpublished) recording
of the original version with Theo Olof starts tersely; but Rowicki
soon accelerates, adjusting tempi and rubati finely. Wilkomirska
remains sweet, and focused, of tone throughout even when she
moves into the higher positions, where her intonation remains
unsullied. The dance episodes, where her pizzicati are clear
and well projected, come over just as well. And her assurance
is perhaps at its zenith in her playing of the Passacaglia,
which is powerful, virtuosic, expressively cogent, and where
we find she retains virtuosity and tonal vibrance to the very
end.
This joins the admittedly small discography of the work, and
does so on sheer merit. Significantly, it predates the composer’s
own recording with Mark Lubotsky and Ida Haendel’s with
Berglund.
Rowicki directs a compelling, dramatic Tchaikovsky Four. I was
rather dreading listening to it, having suffered a glut of performances
recently, and it’s difficult not to feel jaded sometimes.
Ah, but when you hear how Rowicki steps on the gas, retaining
a taut grip throughout, you won’t be jaded. At times I
wondered if this wasn’t Golovanov in disguise. With a
sweeping battalion of strings at his disposal, punctuating brass
and amazingly vivid percussion definition, courtesy of another
of Orchestral Concert’s top class microphone placements,
this is a seismic rendition of the symphony. Climaxes drive
ever onward, tension is built with incremental strength. Fortunately
the rest of the symphony is very fine too, though more conventional
in outline. It’s warm, finely performed, the ‘village
band’ winds in the Scherzo are wryly deployed and the
high winds cuts through brilliantly, like supersonic jet fighters.
The finale balances the opening movement in strength, with more
vitality, rhythmically tensile playing, and though not of itself
fast seems the more animated by virtue of stresses and grip.
As a bonus there is the Moniuszko Mazur, delectably done,
in a way that rouses the audience to excited applause.
Hair-shirt production values from this company ensure that terrific
concerts such as this have a continuing and richly deserved
afterlife.
Jonathan Woolf