These days Mariss
Jansons seems to be making most of his recordings live. He’s
already made several with the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra
for their own label. BMG Sony appear to have launched a series
of live recordings in which Jansons conducts the other European
orchestra that he leads, the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra.
Recently I acquired and enjoyed very much Jansons’ new Concertgebouw
recording of Petrushka (1947) - coupled with Rachmaninov’s
Symphonic Dances on RCO Live RCD 05004 – so I was keen
to hear his version of L’Oiseau de feu.
This is a most impressive
account of Stravinsky’s suite, with the BRSO on top form. Jansons
adopts quite a flowing tempo for the Introduction and then obtains
some tremendously agile playing in the Firebird’s Dance and
the succeeding Variation. I loved the delicacy with which he
and his players invest ‘Ronde des princesses’, in which we hear
some marvellous solo playing from several of the orchestra’s
principals. The violently percussive chords that introduce ‘Danse
Infernale du roi Kastcheï’ and then punctuate its early pages
should sound like an executioner’s axe and they do here. The
dance is as thrilling as it should be, exuding demonic malevolence.
I noticed what I think may be a textual oddity. Unless my ears
deceive me Jansons adds a tubular bell or something similarly
metallic to the afore-mentioned chords. I’ve never heard this
done before and it makes a curious, though not too obtrusive,
effect.
The BRSO’s solo
bassoonist distinguishes him- or herself in the ‘Berceuse’,
supported on a gossamer carpet of soft string sound. Jansons
handles the transition to ‘Final’ superbly, the tremolando
strings stealing in magically. He builds this last movement
splendidly. The closing pages are impressive and celebratory
but Jansons keeps the music moving forward well, thereby avoiding
any risk of bombast. Overall this is a pretty outstanding account
of this well-known piece.
The other item on
the disc is anything but well known. Indeed, though BMG Sony
don’t say so, I strongly suspect that this is the first commercial
recording of Shchedrin’s Fifth Piano Concerto. The documentation
doesn’t give a great deal of factual information about the piece
but I was able to establish from the website of Schott, the
publishers of the work, that it was premièred in October 1999
in Los Angeles by Olli Mustonen with that city’s Philharmonic
and Esa-Pekka Salonen. The work is scored for pretty conventional
forces except that there’s a requirement for a substantial percussion
section, most of which seems to consist of untuned gamelan-like
instruments. The latter are heard to good effect at several
points in the score, especially in the finale.
The piece seems
to me to lie firmly in the line of succession from the piano
concerti of Bartók and Prokofiev. However, I fear that in comparison
with those works what it seems to lack is any distinctive or
memorable thematic profile. In saying that, however, I may be
doing Shchedrin a disservice, for the writer of the liner notes
seems to imply, in discussing the first movement, that this
may be a deliberate tactic on the composer’s part. The first
two movements seem to me to be pretty serious in tone. The first,
after starting off with deceptive simplicity, becomes more and
more earnest and I’d describe much of the orchestral material
as “striving” in tone. Though demanding of its soloist this
work is by no means a “mere” display piece. Eventually the music
subsides in the last three minutes or so into some kind of calm
but to my ears it’s only a restless calm and the movement ends
with what sounds like a musical question mark.
The serious mien
is carried over into the Andante. Much of the music is more
delicate than was the case in the first movement though I’m
not sure I’d join the author of the notes in describing the
music as “lyrical”. From time to time the music becomes more
powerful, especially around 6:00. The finale seems to be Shchedrin’s
concession to the display nature of concerto writing. This is,
for the most part, a helter-skelter movement. Some pretty dexterous
pianism is required from the soloist but the orchestra has a
crucial role to play also – as has been the case throughout
the work. There’s some thunderous playing from the soloist around
7:00 after which the orchestra starts to whirl the music to
an exciting conclusion and the concerto ends with a slam.
I have to say that
I have struggled with this piece, even though its language is
perfectly accessible. To be frank, I can’t really fathom where
Shchedrin is going with it but I’m sure that’s my fault and
that there is much more to the music than I’ve been able to
discern so far after just a few hearings. At this stage in my
familiarity with it I’m not sure that the music merits the ovation
that the audience offers at the end but the performance most
certainly does. Denis Matsuev is an intrepid and wholly committed
soloist and I should think he needed to be on the top of his
form to play this work. After all, the composer is no mean pianist
himself and the Fifth is the only one of his piano concerti
to date that he has not premièred himself. It’s equally evident
that Matsuev’s virtuosity receives support, or perhaps I should
say a partnership, from Jansons and his orchestra of the highest
quality. The performance, like that of the Stravinsky, is captured
in excellent, clear sound.
The playing time
of this disc is not particularly generous and I think it would
have widened the appeal of this CD if a third piece had been
included. As it is, despite the excellence of Jansons’ performance
of the Stravinsky we aren’t exactly short of good alternative
versions of that piece so collectors who don’t want to investigate
the Shchedrin will undoubtedly look elsewhere. However, admirers
of Shchedrin’s music should certainly snap up this release,
while no doubt regretting that another of his pieces hasn’t
been included to fill up the disc. It’s unlikely there will
be a rival version of the concerto in the foreseeable future
and even if one does appear it will have to be pretty good to
surpass Matsuev and Jansons.
An enterprising
coupling.
John Quinn
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Denis Matsuev (piano)*
