Sergei RACHMANINOV (1873-1943)
Symphony No 1 in D minor, Op 13 (1897) [45:15]
Symphonic Dances, Op 45 (1943) [35:37]
The Philadelphia Orchestra/Yannick Nézet-Séguin
rec. live September 2018 (Symphonic Dances), June 2019 (Symphony No 1), Kimmel Centre for the Performing Arts, Verizon Hall, Philadelphia
DEUTSCHE GRAMMOPHON 483 9839 [80:52]
Ian Julier has very favourably and eloquently reviewed the download of this recording which we hope will be the first in a series of issues of live performances of Rachmaninov’s four symphonies by Yannick Nézet-Séguin and the Philadelphia Orchestra, following the release of the piano concertos and Paganini Rhapsody, played by Daniil Trifonov. I refer you to his review for a detailed background history of these works and the close relationship between the Philadelphia Orchestra and Rachmaninov.
The composition of these two works might be separated by nearly half a century but of course they make an ideal
pairing by being thematically linked; in his last orchestral work, Rachmaninov even goes so far as to quote the opening “Vengeance” motif of the (then lost) first Symphony in the first Dance. Both works have been superbly recorded many times and there is no shortage of fine recordings; among more recent issues, Petrenko and the Royal Liverpool Phiharmonic are especially recommendable though of course the old recordings with Ormandy and the same orchestra as here still hold their place, cuts, slightly dated sound and all.
First, it must be said that the sound here is stunning in its depth and transparency; there is very little audience noise and this is almost indistinguishable from a first-class studio recording, capturing the excellent acoustic of the Verizon Hall, the perfect balance allowing us to hear the homogeneity and virtuosity of the Philadelphians. Their playing is riveting from the very first bars and very soon I also find myself admiring the way Nézet-Séguin knits together passages and developments which can fragment under less skilful hands. The sheer lushness and elan of this music are fully brought out; this is a conductor and orchestra really on
their toes and in harmony, their attack is so crisp and punchy. The music itself is thrilling, albeit episodic; given its drive, variety of colours lyric invention, it is unthinkable that its premiere should have been such a disaster – or maybe we should attribute that to factors beyond the composer’s control, such as insufficient rehearsal time and the conductor Glazunov’s inebriation.
There is a definite flavour of Borodin to the opening of the symphony, so very Russian in its implacable menace and sense of impending doom. The second movement is more diaphanous and diffuse; Nézet-Séguin neatly steers a course between its superficial insouciance and the underlying bass threat always threatening to break through the fluttering soprano flutes. Again, the sheer voluptuous sound of this orchestra serves the music so faithfully. The ease and fluidity with which Nézet-Séguin conducts the slow movement, with generously but judiciously applied rubato, confirms both the empathy between him and his orchestra and that between themselves and Rachmaninov. The rumbustious finale surely owes something to Rachmaninov’s mentor, Tchaikovsky, in its initial energy followed by a gradual spiralling downwards towards oblivion, but is still very identifiably the composer’s own idiom of agogic, off-beat rhythmic complexity combined with soaring lyricism. It could not be played with more vim and precision than is heard here. Nézet-Séguin maintains tension right through the chilling tam-tam roll to the coda to the two, final, Mahlerian “hammer-blows of fate”, making the decline inexorable without descending into undue indulgence.
The same dynamic and sonorous qualities apply to the Symphonic Dances. Coming as they do straight after the symphony, the listener might ponder how recognisable Rachmaninov’s style remained even after nearly fifty years. The Dances are much more economically and tightly constructed in expression and form and of course there has been a great development in his compositional techniques, but the tropes of his compositional manner are still very much in evidence. Orchestration is much leaner because of course this music was originally devised as a ballet but one does need to know that to perceive that the music has an airier, more balletic atmosphere akin to, for example, Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet, while the stamping motif is reminiscent of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring and the second movement inevitably brings to mind both Ravel’s La valse and Sibelius’ Valse triste – the Dance with Death, and indeed, the already gravely ill Rachmaninov’s own death was not that far off. I noted the transparency of the orchestral playing in the symphony and that clarity is even more apparent here, but that does not preclude generating a melancholy, bitter-sweet ambience. The Philadelphian woodwinds are especially deft and melodious and the same apt application of rubato heard in the Larghetto of the symphony is employed here. The finale is decidedly death-devoted, with its references to the Dies Irae, the “Blessed be the Lord” from the composer’s own Vespers (more properly called All-Night Vigil) and its harking back, full-circle, to the First Symphony – but this time ending on a note of triumph with an absolutely terrific tam-tam crash which refuses to die away. After all, as Ian reminds us in his review, there is a superscription of “Alliluya” in the score in the composer’s own hand and this recording certainly captures that celebratory spirit.
This easily merits admittance into the ranks of the top recommendations for both works.
Ralph Moore
Previous review: Ian Julier
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John Quinn
