Disc One
Modest MUSSORGSKY (1839-1881)
Pictures at an Exhibition orch. Ravel (1874, 1922)
[33:32]
Pyotr Ilyich TCHAIKOVSKY (1840-1893)
Symphony no.4 in F minor, op.36 (1877) [42:40]
Orchestre National du Capitole de Toulouse/Tugan Sokhiev
rec. Halle aux Grains, Toulouse, France, July 2006
Originally released as V5068 [76:22]
L’âme Russe is French for ‘The Russian Soul’. This
four disc set is designed to demonstrate this with the works
of seven composers spanning 1839-1975. I’d say it pretty much
achieves that with the choice of composers and repertoire.
The first disc comprises two works so well known that my first
reaction on seeing it was “here we go again”. An unfair reaction
maybe, but simply caused by the thought that, what can be said
anew about such core works; such cornerstones of Russian music.
I like being taught a lesson – it’s good for me and this disc
taught me a very salutary one: listen first then make your comments!
Listening to this disc was like discovering the music for the
first time; it was as the current vernacular has it: ‘jaw-droppingly’
fantastic. It’s a disc that would help explain to the sceptical
what a difference a conductor can make in shaping a piece, and
an orchestra, into his way of reading things. It was interesting,
therefore, to read the article in the accompanying booklet about
the conductor of these two works, Tugan Sokhiev. It’s entitled
‘Love at first sight’ and in it Olivier Bellamy tries to explain
the magical effect this young man has had upon the orchestra
and the music it plays. He writes that defining a great conductor
is difficult, and that musicians tend to categorise them as:
“those who make them play, those who let them play, and those
who stop them playing” and that the orchestra “are grateful
to the first, despise the second, and detest the third”. However,
he goes on, what if there were another breed who “play with
the orchestra?” who “are so musical that orchestras follow them
as one man. Those who can change the sound of the orchestra
with a single glance because they ‘are’ music and transform
everything they touch into music. Tugan Sokhiev belongs to this
highly exclusive club of geniuses of the baton, who galvanise
orchestras and electrify listeners”. I was listening to this
disc in the car as I drove around town and before I’d read the
article. I can honestly say it nearly blew me out of the car;
what will it do to me I thought when I play it on ‘proper’ equipment.
Well, words fail me! So what has he done with the music to make
me feel this way? He has taken an orchestra that as a collective
hails from the sunny south of France and made it sound Russian
– to me at least, and the effect is literally hair-raising.
I shan’t dwell on the origins of “pictures” as it’s often affectionately
known, other than reminding ourselves that it was written in
homage - even, so the article intimates, possibly dictated by
the guilt that Mussorgsky felt at not appreciating the symptoms
of the illness that affected his friend Viktor Hartmann, when
the composer saw him for the last time, and which killed him
shortly afterwards. Hartmann was a painter whose works were
subject to an exhibition seven months after his death and it
was these, and some others be Hartmann, that inspired Mussorgsky’s
composition. The quality of the trumpet playing at the very
outset is a foretaste of what is to come. The brass playing
generally is quite simply superlative and the recording incredibly
well made so that no instrument is left in any “muddy” sound,
but is beautifully singled out. Just listen out for the xylophone
35 seconds in and the accompanying strings sliding and you’ll
hear what I mean. Sokhiev creates a chilling atmosphere right
from the very first notes. Even the pauses are telling and just
long enough. I could go into raptures at every turn but will
ration myself to some examples of the fantastic architecture
Sokhiev builds within the piece. It’s so clear that he knows
exactly what he wants and, as important, how to achieve
it. I’ve never heard the Promenade sound as magisterial
as it does in track 5 after its frightening first appearance.
The beautiful horn work is very evident in track 7 Bydlo
(oxen), and their lumbering gait is perfectly described.
The Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks is rendered a truly
humorous piece with wonderful playing from the woodwind section
and the slightly distorted penultimate note is so telling –
brilliant! - I don’t think I’ve ever noticed it before. The
Marketplace at Limoges is made to sound particularly busy,
not to say frantic with people bustling everywhere. Here light-heartedness
swiftly segues into a sombre and icy mood with a depiction of
the catacombs leading straight into Cum mortuis in lingua
mortua: With the dead in the language of the dead.
This swiftly leads into a portrayal of the witch of Russian
folklore Baba Yaga in The hut on Fowls’ legs in a really
effective representation of horror. This gives away abruptly
to the final painting, The Great Gate of Kiev in a rendition
which is thrilling in its description of imperial majesty. There’s
some fabulous playing from all sections of the orchestra and
the bell sounds come over in the closing moments with especial
clarity. What a wonderful conductor of Russian opera classics
he must be! I’ve often felt in recent years that the recordings
I own are rather lacklustre and I seek the original piano version
for a better idea of what Mussorgsky meant. This version has
reawakened my enjoyment and has left me very thankful that Ravel
made his orchestration. When it’s in the hands of someone like
Sokhiev it becomes a work of equal value to the original and
on its own terms.
The second work on the disc is Tchaikovsky’s Fourth Symphony
of 1877. It’s more than just well represented in the catalogue,
but once again this recording thrilled me with a sound as fresh
as when I first heard it. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it better
played. The opening notes superbly played on massed horns announce
something special to come. Then 90 seconds in we are transported
to an imperial dance floor and gorgeous gowns mingling with
the uniforms of officers – this is the image it conjures for
me. There was a time when I didn’t like Tchaikovsky – I considered
him “too romantic” for me – ah well! However, it is interpretations
like this which change such opinions. This is not simply going
through the musical motions, no mere playing of the notes; this
is an interpretation that shows total insight, thorough understanding
and love of everything on the page and a sharing of this amongst
all involved. Romantic? Well, yes, but heard through the filter
of this conductor it is a great deal more than that. It is full
of heartfelt emotion, of anguish, of love; in short it is full
of life. This first movement is a scene-setter and the
promise of even greater things. This is underlined by the horns
closing the first circle. A lone oboe opens the second movement
with a few plucked strings for company and the melody is picked
up by the whole string section. That most lush and gorgeously
plaintive theme is introduced; sadness expressed in the most
beautiful of ways and with a facility for which Tchaikovsky
was so justifiably renowned. This is obviously music that runs
through Sokhiev’s very veins and it shows in every note resulting
in a performance that is surely destined to become a benchmark
recording. The contrast between the end of the second movement
and the beginning of the third couldn’t be greater. The pizzicato
strings sound as fresh as they possibly could and the humour
is intensified with the woodwind and brass joining in. The final
movement begins with a grandeur that is as superb as it is beautiful.
The strains of a well known Russian folksong interweave into
the very fabric of the music. The ideas are treated lightly
and seriously by turns, growing in intensity then subsiding
into a more melancholy treatment. Things become restless with
blaring brass subduing the strings. The culmination of the movement
and of the symphony begins around seven minutes in. The final
statement is magnificently made and rounds off a truly towering
performance of glittering perfection. To quote from the article
once again “Were it not for the natural discretion on both sides
of the partnership, one might swear that he (Sokhiev) is saying
to the musicians ‘I love you’ when he lifts his arm, and they
reply ‘And we love you too’ when they lower theirs”. Hear, hear!
Disc Two
Alexander SCRIABIN (1872-1915)
Sonata no.3 in F sharp minor [18:04]
Sonata no.9 op.68 Black Mass [9:19]
Sergei PROKOFIEV (1891-1953)
Sonata no.8 in B flat major [29:59]
Sergei RACHMANINOV (1873-1943)
Prelude no.4 in D major [4:58]
Grigory Sokolov (piano)
rec. live 26 March 1988 (Scriabin) and 15 March 1984 (Prokofiev)
St Petersburg Philharmonia
2 June 1988 (Rachmaninov) Glinka Chapel, St Petersburg
Originally released as OP 30386 [62:20]
What a contrast we have in disc two of this four disc set:
solo piano music after orchestral pyrotechnics. That said, we
have similarly white hot performances by another Russian master
craftsman. These are fabulous live performances; Sokolov rarely
enters the recording studio, greatly preferring the spontaneity
of live concerts. The three composers represented here are particular
favourites of the pianist and it certainly shows. The Scriabin
sonatas are wonderful examples of this mystic composer’s work
whose other-worldly, ethereal music is imbued with tons of soul
and so fits the remit of this collection very closely. Sonata
no.3 is, in fact, entitled “États d’âme” (States of the
soul) and Scriabin provided a programme to explain it describing
a soul that is “wild and free” rushing “passionately into pain
and strife”, then finding a “temporary rest” though the torment
is simultaneously hinted at. Then the soul “drifts on a sea
of gentle and melancholic feelings: love, sadness, vague desires,
indefinable thoughts imbued with a ghost-like charm” and, finally
the soul “struggles and fights ecstatically. From the very depths
of its being, there arises the powerful voice of the Man-God,
whose victory song rings out triumphantly. But still too weak,
at the very moment when it reaches the summit, it falls, stricken,
into the abyss of nothingness”. It’s enough to make you exhausted
by the time the sonata comes to an end. Everything described
is given musical life and the description certainly aids understanding
and, as a result, enjoyment, coupled with Sokolov’s brilliant
performance which is a real tour de force. Despite being influenced
by Chopin and Liszt certainly Scriabin was ahead of his time
and that struck me very forcefully listening to this again.
I tried to imagine hearing this for the first time in 1898,
a full fifteen years before The Rite of Spring. While
it’s true that there are plenty of “uncomplicated” romantic
sounding moments, particularly in the second movement, the whole
is very ‘avant-garde’ for a nineteenth century work. Brahms
had died only the previous year – what would be have made of
it I wonder. The short one movement work which carries the title
“Black Mass”, which a friend bestowed on it, was written in
1913. It is music that is full of mystery and torment. When
you read about Scriabin’s life and beliefs you can understand
why his works sound so full of disturbed feelings. An interest
in metaphysics had considerable influence on his music. In one
unpublished notebook he famously declared “I am God”. Sokolov
clearly “inhabits” Scriabin’s world while he plays. Hearing
him do so is a real experience, unlike listening to other piano
works. The end of this work comes quite abruptly as the music
fades away as if it were a wisp of smoke spiralling upwards
into the atmosphere from an extinguished cigarette. So intense
were the feelings expressed during the work that this ending
is almost a relief.
Written over thirty years later Prokofiev’s Eighth sonata shows
influence from Scriabin whom Prokofiev much admired - as did
Rachmaninov and many others. At almost thirty minutes this is
a huge work which must put considerable strain on a pianist
in terms of interpretation of something so large in concept.
It is, however, very typical of Prokofiev and is easily identified
as his; it couldn’t be confused with another composer’s work.
The first movement is almost fifteen minutes long and while
it begins gently enough it soon erupts into a storm of violent
sounds. The second movement brings sweet release from these
turbulent feelings with a real sense of inner calm. The finale
is a proclamation of the human spirit which triumphs against
all adversity and is a wonderful statement with which to end
a great work. It is played by Sokolov with commitment, aplomb
and sheer white-hot virtuosity.
The final work on this disc is Rachmaninov’s Prelude op.23
no.4 composed between 1901 and 1903. What a contrast both
emotionally and musically with Scriabin and Prokofiev. There
is no turbulence here and there are no spiky rhythms either,
just a sublime little beauty. It’s a perfect way to end a disc
that has been so full of sturm und drang. It is played
with a delicacy perfect for its nature leaving one with a smile
and a feeling of inner calm.
There is a mistake in the listed timings for this disc which
says the fourth movement of Scriabin’s Third sonata is 3:37,
whereas it is in fact 6:37 making the disc 62:20 not 60:06as
listed (if the other timings are correct, otherwise it could
be 63:20, or...!). There was also some background noise on my
copy that I trust is not apparent on the rest of the run. What
is notable is that even though the performances are all live
there is only some obvious coughing in Prokofiev’s sonata –
thank heavens!
Disc Three
Dmitri SHOSTAKOVICH (1906-1975)
Violin Concerto no.1 in A minor, op.99 (op.77) (1947-1948) [38:27]
Violin Concerto no.2 in C sharp minor, op.129 (1967) [31:47]
Originally released as V5025 [70:23]
The third disc in this set is of Shostakovich’s two violin
concertos, performed by Sergey Khachatryan which I have already
reviewed for MusicWeb
International some years ago so please see that review in
which I made comparisons with Baiba Skride and Daniel Hope,
whose recording I still consider among the best available and
which remains in the memory long after hearing it. Nonetheless,
including Khachatryan’s recording in the set does give another
dimension to the ‘Russian soul’ and as such is a good choice.
Disc Four
Dmitri SHOSTAKOVICH (1906-1975)
Sonata for cello and piano in D minor, op.40 [26:05]
Sergei PROKOFIEV (1891-1953)
Adagio op. 97 (from the ballet Cinderella) [4:56]
Sonata for cello and piano in C major, op.119 [22:59]
Ballade op.15 [11:51]
Sonia Wieder-Atherton (cello), Laurent Cabasso (piano)
rec. Large Hall of the Metz Arsenal, Metz, France, September
1992
Originally released as V4666 [65:51]
Shostakovich, it is said used his chamber music to give free
vent to his innermost feelings, feelings which, for the most
part he was prevented, or, at the very least, discouraged, from
expressing in works written wearing what is commonly described
as his “public face”. Therefore it is highly appropriate that
this set should contain something from that corpus of compositions
as a further example of “the Russian soul”, though I think that
had I been charged with making the choice there are other works
I’d have considered before choosing this one. That is by no
means because I dislike it - far from it as I think it is a
gorgeous piece, but because I think other works show his soul
bared even more starkly, such as some of the string quartets
or the violin or viola sonatas. That said this is a fine interpretation
from two musicians I really don’t know at all. Having listened
to the disc over and over again I regret not having come across
them before as they make a duo who are absolutely at one with
each other musically. This shows in some wonderfully nuanced
playing that is never mannered or that sounds in any way artificial,
but simply beautifully laid out in a performance that has you
going back to it time and time again for pure enjoyment. Having
said that I’d have chosen another work to represent Shostakovich’s
“soul” the first movement of the cello sonata is not without
its serious moments and the lovely theme that keeps insisting
on its return is at least wistful if not sad. The second movement
is just huge fun with Shostakovich showing his famous ability
to write incredibly witty dance-like tunes. Here the two instruments
appear to vie with each other to be funnier and requiring some
clever bowing from the cellist that produces violin-like sounds
that are both mischievous and extremely amusing. The pianist
is called upon to play some wonderfully fast little passages
making for an impression of two circus clowns doing their little
routine while preparing for more serious things later. It is
certainly more serious in the third movement which is as soulful
as it gets here with the cello describing a sad and reflective
melody while the piano is at first discreet, becoming a little
more assertive halfway through. The finale again begins with
our two clowns back with something light and knockabout to relieve
the tension. The main theme is deliciously impish and had me
imagining them attempting some tightrope walking with various
degrees of success. Its conclusion doesn’t leave them feeling
too embarrassed but rounds things off nicely. So, a sonata that
is markedly divided in sentiment with plenty of pathos interspersed
with two light and funny episodes. I listened to the other two
versions I have of this to see which I considered brought it
off best. On the one hand Timora Rosler on cello accompanied
by Kara Würtz (on Brilliant Classics as part of the 27 cd boxed
set of Shostakovich’s major works) are workmanlike and to adapt
Morecambe & Wise “play all the right notes in the right
order” but somehow there was a lack of real emotion coming through.
My other version is of Daniil Shafran, accompanied by Shostakovich
himself on piano. Obviously it is more than tempting to say
that the composer must know what he wants because he
knows what he meant. However, if that is true then sometimes
other interpretations can add another dimension even the composer
did not have in mind. We’re not talking big differences here
but subtle changes in tempo at times or greater emphasis on
certain notes or passages. This is what I think Laurent Cabasso
brings to the work with a crispness lacking in Shostakovich’s
own interpretation. I’m at pains to say it since in almost every
way Shostakovich can do no wrong in my eyes; anyway it’s
only my opinion. The same goes for Shafran versus Sonia Wieder-Atherton:
her reading is more achingly soulful where it counts and funnier
when necessary. I read an article by Stephen Isserlis discussing
Shafran’s cello, an Amati which he played all his professional
life from the age of 16. He pointed out that some said it hadn’t
the power a cellist required when his career really takes off
- Isserlis disagreed. Maybe that’s true but I felt that the
cello wasn’t able to reach as low a register as Wieder-Atherton’s
(or Rosler’s), something which I felt the work demanded. The
recording made it sound rather sharp and dry. My impression
as I finished listening to all three was that the review recording
has the edge on the others for warmth, pace and general interpretation
and I shall cherish it.
We now move on to Prokofiev and the Adagio from Cinderella
op.97a. What a lovely piece it is with an absolutely charming
and delightful main theme from the piano echoed on the cello.
This is one of those pieces that can really find a life of its
own outside the work they’re taken from; not a ‘bleeding chunk’
then but more of a sparkling gem. The Sonata in C major,
op.119 was one of the fruits of advice given Prokofiev by
a young Mstislav Rostropovich on writing for the cello, and
dedicated to the musician Lev Atovmian. It was given its first
performance privately on 18 September 1949 by Rostropovich and
Sviatoslav Richter. The first movement marked Andante grave
is certainly serious in nature with echoes of folksong wrapped
in a mysterious cloak of rather melancholic and otherworldly
sounds. The second movement begins brightly with a tune sounding
very much like a children’s marching song giving way to a more
soulful theme that comes full circle to the children’s song
again. The third and final movement, Allegro ma non troppo
begins cheerfully enough and then reprises themes from the beginning
of the work. A number of variations are included in a very lyrical
and emotionally satisfying movement to conclude a great sonata.
The very last work on this disc and in this collection is Prokofiev’s
Ballade, op.15 which includes a theme from the first
movement of a work he wrote for violin and piano in 1902 at
the age of 11, but which has not survived. It is a beautifully
romantic-sounding piece and, like the other two works, carries
plenty of immediately recognisable Prokofievan ‘signatures’.
It is again, like them, devoid of much of Prokofiev’s characteristic
‘spiky’, rather more avant-garde, rhythms. Again these three
works are effortlessly performed by these two musical ‘soul
mates’ and they make the best case possible for them. I shall
definitely be looking for their other recordings; I’m loath
to let this go but I must move on to the next review - if only
as Kurt Weill wrote in ‘The Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny’
it were instead to ‘the next whisky bar’ – but work first -
pleasure later!
To sum up this collection I think it does “everything it says
on the tin” in showing a glimpse of the ‘Russian Soul’ in music
with some well chosen repertoire in first class performances
of real quality. These present the music in the most favourable
of lights and help me listen to works I thought I knew with
a new and more critical ear discovering fresh aural benchmarks
in several cases for which I am truly grateful. If this is repertoire
any collector has yet to acquire then go for it. Even allowing
for better individual recordings of the Shostakovich violin
concertos, this is a set worth having.
Steve Arloff
NAÏVE V5271 [76:22 + 62:20 + 70:23 + 65:51] 
