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Pyotr Ilyich TCHAIKOVSKY (1840-1893)
The Nutcracker (complete ballet), Op. 71 (1891-1892) [89:30]
Los Angeles Children’s Chorus
Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra/Gustavo Dudamel
rec. live, December 2013, Walt Disney Concert Hall, Los Angeles, USA
Reviewed as a 16-bit press download
Pdf booklet included
DEUTSCHE GRAMMOPHON 483 6274 [2CDs: 45:39 + 44:05]

As an avid collector of Tchaikovsky ballet recordings for more than forty years, I’m always surprised – even a little shocked – at how many I’ve passed on to friends or left at the local charity shop. That’s particularly true of The Nutcracker, my library reduced to a small core of classic versions that never fail to please. In fact, I could count them on the fingers of one hand, with a digit or two to spare. This piece is a long-time favourite, so perhaps I’m just hypercritical where newcomers are concerned. That, and/or the fact that I prefer ballet recordings that manage to convey a sense of theatre. (Not necessarily a deal-breaker, but a distinct advantage nonetheless.) I’m certainly not a fan of ‘concertised’ performances, as they feel curiously one dimensional. Vladimir Jurowski’s Nutcracker, Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty, recorded in Moscow between 2017 and 2019, are prime examples of this glossily symphonic approach (Pentatone). (Indeed, it would seem any resemblance to stage works is entirely coincidental.) As for Neeme Järvi’s traversal of this enchanting trio, it’s disappointing for other reasons; his Nutcracker, set down in 2013, drained of all charm or sense of magic (Chandos). Ditto Dmitri Kitaienko’s ‘unaccountably etherised’ performance, recorded with the Gürzenich-Orchester Köln in 2015 (Oehms).

So, here’s my (short) list of recommended Nutcrackers. First up is the classic Ernest Ansermet one, recorded with the Orchestre de la Suisse Romande in 1958 (Decca/Major Classics). This conductor was very much at home in the pit, and it shows in every bar of this intensely theatrical performance. Fast forward to 1972, and the André Previn/LSO LPs, which I cherished for years (Warner). However, I was dismayed to discover that Christopher Parker’s analogue recording lost much of its allure in the switch to digital. Sonic issues aside, this Nutcracker is worth hearing, not least for the fine playing and, especially, Previn’s flair for the dance. Not long ago, I revisited Sir John Lanchbery’s Philharmonia performance from the early 1980s; indeed, I found it more engaging than I’d once thought (Warner). Finally, I offer up the Sir Charles Mackerras/LSO recording, used as the soundtrack for a 1986 film featuring Pacific Northwest Ballet. Sir Charles, also a man of the stage, has a good feel for the work’s ebb and flow, its dramatic peaks perfectly judged. The Telarc sound is terrific, too.

Having only just reviewed the Gustavo Dudamel/LAPO set of Charles Ives’s four numbered symphonies – a MusicWeb Recording of the Month and sure to be one of my top picks for 2021 – I thought it a good time to assess their Nutcracker. I’ve not heard the Dude in Tchaikovsky until now, but I see Rob Barnett had good things to say about his Fifth Symphony and Francesca da Rimini, recorded with the with the Simón Bolívar Youth Orchestra in 2008. That said, this conductor is notoriously variable, so this one could go either way.

First impressions? Well, the overture is neat and nimble, although the sound seems dry and somewhat featureless. (A far cry from the rich, full-bodied sonics of that Ives set, recorded in the same venue seven years later.) Even more dispiriting, this is one of those performances where each number is presented as a discrete entity, without any sense of a larger, interconnected narrative. Also, there’s little or no attempt at characterisation, key figures and contrasting set-pieces oddly undifferentiated throughout. And if you’re in search of wit or sparkle, prepare to be disappointed, the Galop and March dispatched without any sense of occasion. Moreover, the Grandfather’s Dance, usually played with grace and a wry deference, is constrained by the Dude’s turgid tempi. As for the battle – to which Mackerras adds some splendid sound effects – it’s unforgivably anodyne. Alas, that’s a good description of what follows. There’s no heart-lifting surge to Dudamel’s Pine Forest in Winter – Previn paints a large breath-taking canvas here – and the offstage LA children’s choir sounds unatmospheric and uninvolved.

Under the circumstances, I wasn’t too keen to plough through the Venezuelan’s account of Act II, which contains all the ballet’s most memorable dances. The first number, The Castle on the Mountain of Sweets, is generally a good bellwether of how the second half will go. Beautifully crafted and rhythmically supple, it’s one of the highlights of this varied and inventive ballet. All the rival recordings I’ve mentioned are simply marvellous at this point. By contrast, the Dude offers no magic here, nor in those iconic national dances. Indeed, I could scarcely believe how colourless he makes them seem, how joyless. In the theatre, each one tends to elicit spontaneous applause. I doubt even the most uncritical matinée audience would find much to enthuse about. The other famous episodes, The Waltz of the Flowers and The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, can usually be relied upon to lift one’s spirits and, perhaps most important, renew the listener’s admiration for Tchaikovsky’s magical score. (Invariably, applause attends both.) That the LA performance does none of these things is simply astonishing. By now, I’d abandoned all hope of a redeeming rally. Dutifully, I listened to the rest, the close big and brash. Frankly, the end didn’t come a moment too soon.

A dull, monochrome take on a bright and colourful classic; lacklustre sonics, too.

Dan Morgan