L’âme Russe
NAÏVE V5271 [76:22 + 62:20 + 70:23 + 65:51]
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
A set worth having.