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Antonin DVOŘÁK
(1841-1904)
Serenade for Strings in E, Op. 22 (1875) [27:12]
rec. Evangelische Schlosskirche, Ludwigsburg, Germany, June 1975
Josef SUK (1874-1935)
Serenade for Strings in E-flat, Op. 6 (1892) [26:30]
Hugo WOLF (1860-1903)
Italian Serenade (1887/1892) [8:39]
rec. Schloss Ludwigsburg, Stuttgart, June 1971
Edvard GRIEG (1843-1907)
Holberg Suite, Op. 40 (1884) [17:13]
rec. Victoria Hall, Geneva, November 1956
Stuttgart Chamber Orchestra/Karl Münchinger
DECCA ELOQUENCE 480 0447 [79:56]
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The works on this thrown-together-looking program span twenty
years of recording sessions in a variety of venues. They are
linked in representing various "ethnic" strains in music, whether
directly or, in the case of Wolf's Italian Serenade,
indirectly.
The luminous, transparent Suk and Wolf selections are the album's
highlights. The Suk is a particular surprise - one hadn't expected
the staid Münchinger to have such a feeling for its distinctive
Bohemian lyrical nostalgia, or to imbue the music with so strong
a profile. He finds a spacious stillness in the end of the opening
Andante con moto, and draws real drama out of the transition
back to the second movement's main theme. The Adagio
begins with a muted, fragile lyricism, acquiring a nice ebb
and flow as pizzicatos spur the music forward. The finale is
propulsive while retaining a spacious beauty. Throughout the
performance, resonant double-basses provide firm-bodied support.
The shafts of wind color in Wolf's Italian Serenade -
the luminous oboe, the crisp flute, the warm, round horn - bring
welcome timbral variety to this otherwise all-string selection.
Some performances of this piece just chug along indiscriminately.
Münchinger gives sufficient attention to details of phrasing
and rhythm to project its underlying shape, and thus to hold
the listener's interest. The basic 6/8 patterns - presumably,
and not inaccurately, the score's "Italian" element - are nicely
pointed. The expansive lyricism in the contrasting passages
compensates for a slight loss of momentum elsewhere, and Münchinger
brings real elegance to the episode with the pizzicatos at 6:09.
The early-stereo account of the Holberg Suite documents
a more youthful, energetic Münchinger than the familiar
purveyor of old-fashioned Brandenburg Concertos. There's
a buoyancy and drive to the playing that would fade in the course
of the conductor's long career. Crisp, alert rhythmic articulations
propel the opening movement. The conductor shapes the bittersweet
Sarabande with feeling, while bringing a lilt to the
similar material of the Gavotte. The Air goes
with a haunting spaciousness; the closing Rigaudon, more
relaxed than in some other readings, captures an authentic Hardanger
spirit. Digital tweaking has opened up what I remember as the
clean but boxy sound of the London Stereo Treasury LP.
The Dvořák Serenade was always an oddity, an orphan
without a proper discmate in the Decca vaults: the British LP
harnessed it to a reissue of the still-recent Suk, while the
performance never turned up in the USA at all. It's the odd
performance in this collection, too, rather a big-boned rendering
for a small orchestra, an impression reinforced by a conspicuous
big-hall ambience. Münchinger's vigorous manner incorporates
aggressive accentuations, demonstrative, Germanic rhetorical
distensions, and awkward ritards, those last seemingly dictated
by technical necessity rather than interpretive choice. And
there's noticeable insecurity, especially among the inner parts.
The transitional chord at 2:02 of the Scherzo is simply
wrong, with a minor third instead of a major; the violins sing
sweetly at the start of the Larghetto, but tentative
supporting voices leave a mushy impression. Perhaps the conductor
simply hadn't lived with this music long enough.
Still, for the other performances here, this is an excellent
buy at a low price. The typography and proof-reading departments
were both asleep at the switch: both the booklet and the endpaper
give Dvořák's dates as 1913-1976, which would make
him even more retrograde a composer than academia considers
him already.
Stephen Francis Vasta
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