Sibelius conducted the premiere of the 
                Kullervo symphony in April 1892. 
                It was a sensational success appearing 
                in a year not noted for major coups. 
                While 1893 yielded up the last symphonies 
                of Dvořak and Tchaikovsky there 
                was little of such emotional and musical 
                magnitude in 1892. Despite this, for 
                most of his life, Sibelius deliberately 
                suppressed Kullervo in 
                much the same way that Sorabji banned 
                performance of his works. Here however 
                the reason had nothing to do with inadequate 
                performance. The Finnish composer had 
                moved rapidly onwards in style and did 
                not wish to be portrayed as dependent 
                on nationalistic sentiment. Kullervo 
                is certainly a work with a strong 
                nationalist signature although I would 
                be hard put to define it. His style 
                rapidly moved from grandiloquence to 
                concision and economy but not before 
                it had tracked through En Saga and 
                the first two symphonies. The lavish 
                expansiveness of Kullervo with 
                its Brucknerian reach and excursions 
                into quasi-Puccinian drama and Tchaikovskian 
                romance represented a road undeniably 
                travelled but which was behind him now. 
                In some enigmatic way he perhaps feared 
                the pull of Kullervo - 
                an obstruction to what he had to say 
                in the period 1904-1924. The wonder 
                is that it survived the destruction 
                meted out to the Eighth Symphony. 
              
 
              
Whatever the reason, 
                until 1971 only the fortunate few among 
                music-lovers had heard Kullervo. 
                This was the year when the newly-appointed 
                Finnish conductor Paavo Berglund directed 
                performances and a recording of the 
                work with the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra. 
                It was issued on 2 EMI LPs in the set 
                SLS807. The box was graced with a stunning 
                cover reproducing a Kalevala painting 
                by Akseli Gallen-Kalela. That set held 
                the field unchallenged until the CD 
                era during which a host of versions 
                appeared including a Helsinki Philharmonic 
                Orchestra/Berglund remake for EMI in 
                1985. Other conductors whose recordings 
                have been issued in that time are Panula, 
                Salonen, Segerstam, Järvi (both 
                Neeme and Paavo), Vänskä, 
                two versions from Colin Davis, Saraste, 
                Spano and this one from Ari Rasilainen. 
              
 
              
Rasilainen stands at 
                the opposite pole from Colin Davis whose 
                RGA-BMG recording ran to in excess of 
                eighty minutes but whose more recent 
                LSO Live version came to 72:12. The 
                young Finnish conductor is closer in 
                time to the second Colin Davis version 
                and to Robert Spano's recent Telarc 
                recording with the Atlanta Symphony. 
                The Rasilainen is full of vitality and 
                his excellent male voice choir sounds 
                amongst the largest of all the various 
                recorded versions. It has thunderous 
                impact. There is precisely coordinated 
                enunciation to relish and the joyously 
                etched sound of the Finnish language 
                is a delight. The eerie effects of trembling 
                strings and darkly moaning brass at 
                the start of Kullervo's Death 
                register superbly. However this is a 
                rapaciously competitive field and there 
                is something excessively velvety about 
                the Pfalzbau, Ludwigshafen acoustic 
                that makes the sound unduly warm and 
                opaque in the loudest massed passages. 
                This prevents a full recommendation. 
                It's a pity as this is a no-holds-barred 
                performance immersed in the liquor of 
                late romanticism. I compared this with 
                the superb sound secured by CPO for 
                Julius Röntgen's Third Symphony 
                and the Röntgen is clearly the 
                superior. Whether it is the hall or 
                a matter of microphone placement or 
                both I do not know but the acoustic 
                factor casts an unwelcome shroud over 
                the fortissimo passages. 
              
 
              
I heard this played 
                in its standard CD mode not as an SACD. 
                 
              
                Rob Barnett