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Antonín DVOŘÁK
(1841-1904)
Symphony No. 9 in E minor, Op. 95 (From the New World) (1893)
[43:57]*
Leoš JANÁČEK
(1854-1928)
Missa Glagolitica (1926) [43:48}
Gabriela Beňačková (soprano); Drahomira Drobková (contralto);
Josef Kundlák (tenor); Sergey Kopčák (bass); Jan Hora (organ)
Prague Philharmonic Choir/Lubomír Mátl
Czech Philharmonic Orchestra; *Gustav Mahler Jugendorchester/Václav
Neumann
TV directors: Barrie Gavin (Dvořák), Klaus Lindemann (Janáček)
Picture format: 4:3/NTSC
Sound: PCM Stereo, Dolby Digital 5.1, DTS 5.1
Region: 0
Menu language: English
Subtitles: none
rec. 1991, Alte Oper, Frankfurt, Germany (Dvořák); 1987, Dvořák
Hall, Rudolfinum, Prague, Czech Republic (Janáček)
ARTHAUS MUSIK 101 535 [99:00]
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Czech music owes a huge debt to the two Václavs – Talich and
Neumann – Karel Ančerl, Rafael Kubelik and Sir Charles
Mackerras. On record all are splendid in Dvořák – Kubelik’s
DG ‘New World’ a deserving classic, Neumann’s on Supraphon equally
so – and while they’ve also given us some great Janáček,
Mackerras is still sans pareil in this field. All are
gone now, so seeing any of them on the podium – as opposed to
just hearing them – is a rare pleasure indeed. And anyone who
assumes this DVD is a historical curiosity may be surprised
to discover it doesn’t contain grainy old footage, but two fairly
recent concerts with sound and pictures to match.
From the moment we hear that familiar opening theme on the strings
it’s clear this is going to be a ‘New World’ to remember; woodwinds
are characterful and very well blended, emphatic timp strokes
underpinning this warm, spacious recording. The brass are thrilling
too – the trombones especially authoritative – and this music
just blossoms so naturally that it’s hard to imagine it being
played any other way. As for the pictures, the 4:3 aspect ratio
is hardly an issue, and the video direction is discreet and
carefully choreographed. In short, a perfect complement to the
conductor’s direct, unfussy podium presence.
As so often with Dvořák, it’s about rhythmic vitality and
bounce, and the GMJO are wonderfully supple in this department.
And after that big, muscular conclusion to the first movement
the grave trombone chords at the start of the Largo couldn’t
come as a greater contrast. True, the all-important cor anglais
solo may not be as prominent as it sometimes is, but there’s
no mistaking the profound melancholy of this great tune; but
then that’s a good metaphor for Neumann’s approach, solos discreetly
despatched, textures remarkably refined and transparent. Indeed,
for such an iconic melody – once used to accompany a bread commercial
– it emerges here with renewed freshness and grace. Even the
closing bars of the Largo seem more stoic than usual, the final
brush of strings darkly resonant.
As for the Scherzo it’s crisply played, with plenty of momentum
and – in the dance-like episodes – a thoroughly idiomatic lilt
as well. The combination of fine detail and bass weight in the
PCM mix is as good as it gets, and although the GMJO are rather
tightly packed on the platform there’s a decent stereo spread
too. The final Allegro is as fiery as one could wish for, Neumann
fanning the brass into a veritable blaze at times. That said,
the music never sounds brash or overdriven, admirable qualities
that inform this performance as a whole. But it’s the final
peroration – powerful, incisive, overwhelming – that sets the
seal on this fabulous concert. For once, the ensuing roar of
approval is fully justified.
This performance of Janáček’s Missa Glagolitica,
filmed in Prague’s rather grand Dvořák Hall, also promises
to be something special, not least because Neumann is conducting
the band with which he’s so closely associated – the Czech Philharmonic.
Soloists Josef Kundlák, Sergey Kopčák and Gabriela Beňačková
have all recorded this music before; I’ve enjoyed the latter’s
Margherita in Boito’s Mefistofele, and her contribution
to the Dvořák Te Deum (coupled with the Neumann
‘New World’ I mentioned earlier). Collectors who know and love
this Mass will have many versions on their shelves, among them
the more traditional eight-movement one – played here – and
the so-called Wingfield edition, which more closely represents
Janáček’s original intentions in terms of structure and
orchestration.
Whatever the version, this remains an ambitious, hugely compelling
work, one of the highpoints of 20th-century choral
music. And what a terrific sense of expectation as the camera
pulls back to reveal first the Prague Philharmonic Chorus and
organist Jan Hora on their balustraded platform and then the
assembled orchestra and soloists below. Janáček certainly
knew how to write for brass, as a recent NYO performance of
Sinfonietta at London’s Barbican Hall so forcefully reminded
me; not surprisingly, the Czechs make a splendid noise at the
outset, although the revised version – which begins with an
Intrada – can be just as arresting.
Regrettably, the sound here is not as warm or well-focused as
it is in the Dvořák; in fact it’s rather diffuse, which
blunts the score’s sharp edges and drags at Janáček’s complex
rhythms. This is particularly noticeable in those grinding brass
figures in Úvod (the introduction) and the dark, agitated
string passages at the start of Gospodi pomiluj
(the Kyrie). However, I did find that cranking up the volume
adds a bit more bite to the proceedings; it certainly makes
the women’s chorus sound more febrile, Beňačková both
secure and commanding in the vaulting lines of Slava
(the Gloria). All the more disappointing, then, that Neumann
doesn’t articulate Janáček’s surging rhythms terribly well.
That may have more to do with the recording than the playing,
but it’s fatally enervating nonetheless.
Balance is most certainly an issue with the light-toned tenor
Josef Kundlák, who’s barely audible above the orchestra in Slava.
The antiphonal cries of the women’s and men’s choruses are well
captured though, and while the cascading ‘Amins’ aren’t as ecstatic
as they can be, the Gloria still comes to a stirring conclusion.
The opening bass figures in the pivotal Veruju (the Credo)
could do with more attack and edge; indeed, the orchestral playing
seems very sluggish at this point, in stark contrast to the
thrustful, passionate chorus. The burly bass, Sergey Kopčák,
is adequate – at least he’s more easily heard – but Kundlák
doesn’t stand a chance in this welter of sound. What one really
needs here is the transported tones of tenor Vilém Pribyl (on
Mackerras’s Supraphon recording) or the incomparable Benno Blachut
(for Ančerl, also on Supraphon).
The dark string writing that ushers in Svet (the Sanctus)
is played well enough, but that’s undermined by a Toscanini-like
inflexibility of rhythm. This adds up to a curiously dry and
discrete performance, lacking any sense of connectedness or
inner tension. Sadly it’s all ebb and no flow; and despite some
fine choral contributions in Agneče Božij (the Agnus
Dei) the retreat continues. There are visual distractions as
well, notably contralto Drahomira Drobková’s marionette-like
bobbing as she sings. What a pity, also, that the great organ
solo is so undernourished. Organist Jan Hora is no stranger
to this music, so one can only assume the recording is to blame.
That said, Neumann does marshal his forces for a credibly exciting
finale but, alas, it’s not enough to salvage an otherwise uninspired
– and uninspiring – performance. No cheering after this one,
I’m afraid.
Neumann’s contrasting demeanour – relaxed, avuncular in the
Dvořák, unsmiling and visibly tense in the Janáček
– is a pretty good guide to the qualities of these two performances.
I would certainly rank this ‘New World’ alongside his audio
version for sheer vitality and lift, but as I’ve suggested there
are much better CDs of the Mass. If you must have it on DVD,
then go for Mackerras’s revised version on Supraphon SU 7009-9
031. But if you own just one CD of this great work then it must
be Ančerl’s account of the traditional score, reissued
as part of his multi-volume Gold Edition (Supraphon SU 3667-2
911).
Dan Morgan
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