A lovely coupling of
two glowing concertos. Interestingly,
this live recording of the Piano Concerto
captures Martin Kasík’s debut
with the Czech Philharmonic. It is also
his first disc for Supraphon. The ‘video’
element is a bit gimmicky – the musical
truth lies in the complete recorded
performance, after all – but they indicate
Supraphon’s seriousness of intent.
Dvořák’s
Piano Concerto is a tricky piece, and
not only because of the composer’s slightly
clumsy way with piano writing. It is
one of those works that in great hands
will make one wonder why it is not a
repertoire regular (Richter does this).
In the wrong hands it can seem
diffuse and even long-winded.
Kasík’s is,
perhaps predictably, a young man’s performance,
and in this Kout and the Czech Philharmonic
mirror his bravura. The orchestra is
ardent and fresh and therefore not as
intense as Kleiber for Richter. In particular,
listen to the very opening phrase, which
begins like an inhalation - perhaps
of Czech country air? There is a distinctly
bright and breezy aspect to this Allegro.
One would not necessarily guess the
‘agitato’ qualifier listening blind.
Horns and woodwind are eminently geographically
identifiable in their rusticity. As
for Kasík, he is more than just
technically sound, he possesses just
the fluency that this music needs. He
does not yet have that breadth of utterance.
That knowledge about how to lay out
an extended structure and the knowledge
of extended experience. It will however
come to him. Meantime the piano’s initial
entrance is somewhat literal, and separated
from the orchestra’s preceding movements
rather than emerging naturally from
them. Aimard (Royal Concertgebouw/Harnoncourt,
Teldec 8573 87630-2) excels here.
The slow movement (an
Andante sostenuto) begins with a gorgeously
creamy horn solo with just a touch of
that Czech vibrato, leading to a more
unbuttoned Kasík. There is a
real sense of fantasy here, and in the
sudden outbursts one can hear Kasík
exploring the possibilities. Unfortunately
the piano’s final gestures, so characterful
with Richter, here are merely approachable.
The finale begins somewhat
awkwardly from the pianist, the repeated
note too close to a stutter for comfort;
yet the more fantastical elements later
are lovingly dwelt-upon. There are some
technical slips; it is live, after all,
but you should be warned. A fair head
of steam propels the performance towards
the finishing line. The applause is
rightly retained but this finale emerges
as structurally diffuse.
An interesting performance
but not a first choice. One’s library
should include both Richter and Aimard,
ideally. Interestingly, there is another
new version on Chandos that couples
this work with the Violin Concerto (soloists
being Rustem Hayroudinoff and James
Ehnes, respectively). The Chandos performance
is around the same place in the pecking
order as the Supraphon, the latter perhaps
having the edge because of the authentic
Czech sound.
The Cello Concerto
brings us to altogether more crowded
territory. BBCSO Principal Conductor
Designate Jiří
Bělohlávek is in charge. He takes
up the position properly on the occasion
of the First Night of the Proms this
year (2005). He is an unfailingly musical
conductor. The opening of the slow movement,
with its beautifully balanced wind chords,
is but one of many indictaors
that bode well for his UK-based activities.
Jiří
Bárta’s earthy and gritty entrance sees
him marking out his territory in no
uncertain terms. He is close-miked,
which adds to this impression. He is
prone to languish though (the excesses
of youth?) and in a similar nod to his
state of maturity he relishes the more
virtuosic elements. The ‘live’ element
was doubtless a contributory factor
here …
The orchestra can blaze
out triumphally at times in the slow
movement but it is in the finale that
everything clicks. There is urgency
implied in the opening, with the tramp
of lower strings and the violent horn
accent. Barta’s articulation in this
movement is excellent, and the expansive
cello melody at 6’30 has a very human
warmth about it. His high range sings
at times, too. By the end of the performance,
Barta had won this reviewer over.
Neither of these performances
will become first choices but it is
clear from this set that the young generation
of Czech soloists is a remarkably strong
one.
Colin Clarke
aMartin Kasík (piano); bJiří
Bárta (cello) 
