Antonín DVOŘÁK (1841-1904)
    Othello, Op. 93 (1891-1892) [14:38]
    Symphony No. 6 in D major, Op. 60 (1880) [43:54]
    Symphony No. 7 in D minor, Op. 70 (1884-1885) [39:49]
    London Philharmonic Orchestra/Yannick Nézet-Séguin
    rec. live, Royal Festival Hall, London, 2008 (No. 7), 2016 (Othello, No. 6)
    Reviewed as a 24/96 download from
    
        eClassical
    
    Pdf booklet included
    LONDON PHILHARMONIC ORCHESTRA LPO-0095
    [2 CDs: 98:21]
    
    After some disappointing Berlioz and Richard Strauss from Rotterdam Yannick 
	Nézet-Séguin made good with a splendid recording of Saint-Saëns’s Third 
	Symphony and Poulenc’s Organ Concerto (review). That was also with the LPO, of which he was Principal Guest 
	Conductor from 2007 to 2014. Then he and Rafael Kubelík’s old band, the 
	Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra, collaborated on a refreshing, highly 
	competitive account of Mahler’s First Symphony (review). Indeed, the latter was one of my Recordings of the Year for 2016.
 
    Kubelík’s Dvořák, recorded with the BRSO in the 1960s and 1970s, is famed 
	for its extraordinary vigour and insight, though listeners may be pleased to 
	see that István Kertész’s equally celebrated Decca cycle of symphonies and 
	overtures/tone poems has been remastered and reissued on CD and BD-A (review). These two traversals cast a very long shadow. Take Mariss 
	Jansons’ Amsterdam and Munich Dvořák Eights, for instance (review); they’re decent enough, but like so many of their ilk they just 
	don’t stack up against the stalwarts. Jakob Hrůša’s album of overtures (review)
    is similarly outclassed by Kubelík’s indispensable Trio box from DG.
 
    Othello, the third piece in Dvořák’s planned triptych entitled    Nature, Life and Love – the other two were In Nature’s Realm
    and Carnival – gets a terrific outing here. The brass playing is
    full and beautifully blended, the strings are smooth and the work’s echoes
    and antiphonies come across very well indeed. Nézet-Séguin may focus on
    tonal beauty and transparency, but that’s not pursued at the expense of
    dramatic thrust; indeed, the sheer weight and attack of the LPO in the
    tuttis is both thrilling and refined. I can’t recall a lovelier, more
    poetic account of Othello than this. The sound is appealing and the
    applause is appreciative.
 
    Nézet-Séguin impressed the LPO with a memorable performance of the Sixth
    Symphony in 2007, a piece they revisited in 2016. Dvořák wrote it for the
    conductor Hans Richter and the Vienna Philharmonic, but after much
    prevarication on Richter’s part the symphony was finally premiered by the
    Czech Philharmonic under Adolf Čech. It’s a quietly radiant work, full of
    incidental delights and dancing tunes. In the Allegro non tanto
    Nézet-Séguin strikes a good balance between the movement’s more imposing
    passages and its lilting, lightly sprung ones. Clarity is the keyword here,
    and that gives the performance a glorious, ‘hear through’ aspect.
 
    I can’t recall a reading of this symphony that sounds so Mendelssohnian,
    and I feel that’s all to the good. In particular, I was bowled over by the
    aristocracy of the LPO’s playing; they really are at the top of their game,
    as recent concerts/recordings with their Principal Conductor Vladimir
Jurowski so amply demonstrate. There’s a shot-silk loveliness to the    Adagio for instance – it’s so naturally paced and phrased – and with
    it comes that elusive ‘you-are-there’ sensation. The well-balanced
    recording, with good depth and spread, certainly helps in this regard;
    thankfully, there’s none of the ‘souped up’ engineering that’s undeniably
    exciting but disrupts the narrative.
 
    This is Czech music, so the dance is all important. Nézet-Séguin brings
    plenty of brio and bounce to the Furiant – what characterful
    woodwind playing and elegant pizzicati – and how instinctively this
    conductor shapes and scales the music. And while you will hear more
    propulsive accounts of the spirited Finale elsewhere, you won’t find
    one as deftly controlled or as affectionately done as this. I suppose what
    I really admire about these performances – and the recordings – is just how
    clean and unfussy they are. If only more recorded concerts worked this well.
    There’s applause, but like the music-making it’s warm and well mannered.
 
    The last Dvořák Seventh to come my way was Claus Peter Flor’s with the
    Malaysian Phil, which also contains top-notch readings of Othello
    and The Wild Dove (review). These were recorded before the acrimonious player/management dispute
    that derailed the orchestra and put paid to their lucrative recording
    contract with BIS. Among that team’s stand-out albums is a splendid
    performance of Smetana’s Má vlast (review)
    that can rub shoulders with the best, the various Kubelíks included. As
    for their Seventh, it’s weighty and well recorded, and Flor underlines the
    work’s equivocal moods at every turn. It’s not lugubrious though, and the
    playing is never less than compelling.
 
    Nézet-Séguin’s Seventh, recorded in 2008, is much less appealing than his
    magnificent Sixth. Even at this early stage of his tenure with the LPO the
    conductor seems to be aiming for transparency and a certain lightness of
    tread. The Allegro maestoso comes off reasonably well, and the
    players rise to the big moments with commendable style and alacrity. Again,
    it’s a very ‘straight’ performance, but without the obvious rapport that
    informs the other recordings here; indeed, it may even seem a little
    cautious at times, notably in the Poco adagio.
 
    Don’t get me wrong, Nézet-Séguin’s is a solid response to the Seventh; it’s
    just unfortunate that it should appear in such illustrious company. And
    while I can’t fault the playing, the get-up-and-go that infuses their Sixth
just isn’t there in this Seventh, especially in stretches of the    Scherzo and Finale. That said, the audience loved it. The
    recording is good, even though it sounds a tad opaque compared with the
    later ones in the set. And, as so often with these LPO releases, the
    liner-notes – by Stephen Johnson and Andrew Mellor – are lucid and well
    laid out. A treat for older eyes.
 
    A sensible yoking together of concerts recorded eight years apart; they
    demonstrate just how special Nézet-Séguin’s relationship with the LPO has
    become.
 
    Dan Morgan