Alternative versions – Shostakovich:
D. Oistrakh/Philharmonia/Evgeni Svetlanov;
Live 1962 (BBC Legends BBCL4060-2)
D. Oistrakh/New Philharmonia/Maxim Shostakovich;
1972 (EMI 5 86841 2)
Victor Tretyakov/USSR State SO/Yuri Temirkanov;
Live 1981 (Revelation RV10108)
Lydia Mordkovitch/Royal Scottish N O/Neeme
Järvi; 1989 (Chandos CHAN8820)
Dimitry Sitkovetsky/BBCSO/Andrew Davis;
1990 (Virgin 759601-2)
Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg/LSO/Maxim Shostakovich;
1992 (EMI CDC7 54314-2)
Maxim Vengerov/LSO/Mstislav Rostropovich;
1994 (Teldec 92256)
Ilya Kaler/Polish National Radio SO/Antoni
Wit; 1997 (Naxos 8 550814)
Ilya Gringolts/Israel PO/Itzhak Perlman;
2002 (DG 471 616-2GH)
Hilary Hahn/Oslo PO/Hugh Wolff; 2003 (Sony
SK89921)
Sarah Chang/Berlin PO/Simon Rattle, 2006
(EMI 0946 3 46053 2)
Daniel Hope/BBC SO/Maxim Shostakovich;
2006 (Warner 2564-62546-2)
Alternative version – Janáček:
Thomas Zehetmair/Philharmonia/Heinz Holliger;
1991 (Warner Apex 0927-40812-2)
In December 2005 I
was fortunate enough to review two discs
released by Sony Classical featuring
violinist Baiba Skride in solo (review
) and concerto (review)
repertoire. The fact that neither of
them made it onto my Discs of the Year
list had more to with the timing of
their arrival and the compilation of
the list than the artistic quality of
the performances themselves. Given the
life of a reviewer, we are forever moving
on to the next release or concert to
write about, Skride’s first discs remain
among the few from last year I regularly
revisit.
My review of the concerto
disc ended with the remarks:
With a second concerto
disc (Shostakovich 1st
and Janáček) already released
in Germany, Sony would do well to
release it internationally soon.
[…] It looks as if we might have
a serious artist on our hands. The
first two discs certainly make it
seem so.
So at last to Shostakovich’s
first concerto - the third version to
appear in recent months - and something
about the many rivals Baiba Skride faces.
David Oistrakh, the work’s dedicatee,
commented that "the score calls
for considerable emotional in intellectual
involvement on the interpreter’s part".
The selected list - given in date order
- heading this review leaves one with
a variety of attempts at meeting the
challenge Oistrakh makes plain, and
each version has something to offer
the listener.
The concerto is generally
approached in one of two ways: as an
experience of extremities from beginning
to end, unafraid to release great torrents
of wrath when required, or, alternatively,
as a slow burning work whose power and
force is cumulative. That the same work
can indeed be interpreted in two such
different ways says much for the strength
and inventiveness of the writing itself.
Leading the charge
for the ‘torrents of wrath’ view is
David Oistrakh. Understandably he will
still be the non-pareil for some
in the solo part: David Wright claimed
in his review
of the BBC Legends performance that,
"It has never been played like
this in my hearing." Also stating
for good measure, "If you don't
respond to this, you need professional
help!" Alright so the last remark
was made specifically in relation to
the second concerto, but is just as
applicable to the recording as a whole,
and the studio recording - the last
Oistrakh made - under the direction
of the composer’s son, Maxim. Indeed,
his three recordings of the work show
that the fire that burns within the
notes remains undimmed as a special
cause to champion, with the last recording
featuring impassioned playing by the
BBCSO and British firebrand Daniel Hope.
That said, I regret the short lifespan
enjoyed by the version with Salerno-Sonnenberg;
at the time of its appearance I had
great hopes for her.
Other adherents to
this view include Ilya Kaler on Naxos,
and decent though he is the Polish orchestra
let him down slightly when placed alongside
other versions. Gringolts comes across
as a real loose cannon, but he has ideas
of his own within the music, but paradoxically
it is the violinist-turned-conductor
presiding over his recording that shows
weakness when it comes to leading his
orchestra. Much more in control are
Mordkovitch/Neeme Järvi on Chandos,
Tretyakov/Temirkanov (if one can find
their reading somewhere), and the version
until recently I would have said approached
the significance of Oistrakh’s: Vengerov/Rostropovich
on Teldec.
The ‘cumulative effect’
view of the piece is less often expounded
on disc. Sitkovetsky/Davis do so to
decent ends, but they are easily bettered
by Hilary Hahn, who also sees off another
of the latest contenders, Sarah Chang,
whose reading suffers at the hands of
Rattle’s tempi. Chang also can seem
somewhat reticent to get between the
notes, and no matter how far one plays
the cumulative power game, there comes
a time when every soloist must get serious
and rise to the music’s formidable challenges.
None of these accusations
can be laid at the door of Baiba Skride
as she joins the fray. It’s not as if
following the path less travelled will
absent her from comparisons with soloists
that take the other route. Her tone
is admirably secure - on a par with
that of Vengerov or Oistrakh to my ears.
Her intonation is precise; more so than
Tretyakov’s for example, and it’s worth
remembering that both artists are recorded
in live performances. Were it not for
the spontaneous applause at the end
of Skride’s reading, one might on first
audition think this a studio recording.
That it is only underlines the standard
of genuine music-making we have here.
The opening Nocturne
is, of course, far from restful night
music though it does possess a dream-like
quality. Skride and Frank play the music
as if it might be restful for the most
part, yet they are fully aware that
it is not. Menace, though rarely openly
stated, is always present and one senses
that it lurks thinly veiled within every
phrase. The Scherzo is similarly cast
in several key respects to form a pair
to the Nocturne, but its chief effect
is to caricature grotesquely the musical
lines. Without ever sinking to mere
tongue-in-cheek circus humour, Frank
leads a totally assured Munich Philharmonic
in a reading that maintains the seriousness
throughout, much to the benefit of the
music. There are times however that
he does not quite plumb the emotional
depths body and soul as does Maxim Shostakovich,
but then few could claim such intimate
connection as him with this music.
The third movement
Passacaglia/Andante is imbued with its
full measure of suffering by Skride.
She takes the music by the scruff of
the neck in an iron grip – and keeps
this up throughout the ensuing classically
cast variations. The contradictions
inherent in Shostakovich’s writing are
wonderfully realised. But little could
prepare one for the sheer devastation
that awaits in the lengthy adjoining
cadenza – and few play it so absorbingly
as here. It gives one a chance to get
a close-up view of Skride’s formidable
technique and fully appreciate the beauty
of her tone even though she plays some
of the blackest music imaginable. Such
a contradiction might not have been
thought fully out of place by the composer.
The recording itself helps, catching
her within a forwardly placed ‘spotlight’,
rather in the manner found on many Perlman
discs.
The final movement
Burlesque is a hell-for-leather ride
upon some depraved fairground ride of
the imagination. The concerto’s span
arches from nocturne to nightmare. All
caution is forgotten, except that caution
was never present in this reading. One
understands just why Shostakovich was
accused of "formalistic aberration,
subjectivism and the denial of socialist
realism" following the Leningrad
premiere of the work. More importantly,
this performance makes you feel it too.
With the longed for unleashing of power
finally realised what a mix of emotions
swell around! Here is perhaps the final
contradiction to be found in Shostakovich
- I found it also when seeing Lady
Macbeth of Mtsensk recently: the
music dictates that one might be ready
to abruptly curtail life immediately
it finishes, yet any good performance
leaves feelings of joy despite the bleak
thoughts. A great performance leaves
one elated, and Skride’s definitely
does that for me.
In his review
of the Janáček
concerto played by Thomas Zehetmair
Colin Clarke put his finger on the heart
of the matter in commenting that:
The
Janáček is in fact a fragment,
heard here in a completion by Leoš
Faltus and Miloš Štedru, first performed
in 1988 at Brno; another completion
by Bretislav Bakala exists. Its
total duration is less than twelve
minutes and yet it contains Janáček's
world in microcosm, including some
beautiful moments along the way:
the woodwind solos around 3 minutes
in are a breath of fresh air and
the frequent bitter-sweet
harmonies are most affecting.
Skride employs the
same completion of the work as Zehetmair,
I find it hard to work up much enthusiasm
for the piece given its obviously fragmentary
nature: just as it gets going, it ends.
Ultimately, because of this, despite
committed and idiomatic advocacy from
Skride, orchestra and conductor, I feel
slightly deflated by the experience,
particularly as it comes after the white-hot
Shostakovich.
So what’s my view of
Baiba Skride now? She is a serious
artist no question, and whilst some
artists politely ask their audiences
to listen Baiba Skride demands their
total attention. I regret that her concerts
so far seem limited to the continent
- although that’s not a bad excuse for
a trip, if one needs one - and compensation
can be found in her recordings. One
request of my own I don’t think is out
of order: more please, and soon!
Evan Dickerson
Baiba Skride (violin)
