The main marketing angle of this new Naxos Historical issue is,
according to its notes, that these recordings typify Arthur Rubinstein’s
“middle period” Chopin.
Given
that Rubinstein was performing as soloist with the Berlin Philharmonic
Orchestra at the age of just 13, it might seem more than a little
unlikely that his “middle period” would include recordings made
at the age of 59 and 66. But in fact the chronology of Rubinstein’s
artistic development was significantly skewed both by his decision,
at the age of 45, to embark on a major re-evaluation of his
technique and repertoire - he himself termed it “the second
beginning of my career” - and the fact that he was still working
in the recording studio in his ninth decade.
The
Naxos synopsis, on the disc’s back cover, adopts a linear view
of the way in which Rubinstein developed his approach to the
Chopin concertos. Thus, the 1930s recordings with John Barbirolli
are said to be generally characterised by “fire and youthful
exuberance”; the final recordings in the stereo age supposedly
exhibit “greater maturity and structural coherence”; and, so
runs the argument, these “middle period” accounts from 1946
and 1953 successfully combine the best features of both.
That
is a somewhat sweeping generalisation and Rubinstein was no
doubt all the more interesting – and a greater artist - because
of the spontaneity and unpredictability that he was wont to
demonstrate in live performance. And yet, on the basis of these
recordings, it does seem to me that the Naxos analysis is generally
correct.
Just
to take something as superficial – though relatively objective
- as the timings of these concertos in various Rubinstein recordings
over the years, a remarkably consistent pattern does emerge
quite clearly.
| Op.11
|
1937, London Symphony Orchestra/Barbirolli |
1953, Los Angeles Philharmonic
Orchestra/Wallenstein |
1961, New London Symphony Orchestra/Skrowaczewski |
| I.
Allegro maestoso |
15:34*
|
18:58
|
19:36
|
| II.
Romanze. Larghetto |
9:26
|
9:47
|
10:42
|
| III.
Rondo. Vivace |
8:11
|
9:44
|
10:01
|
*
Comparison not possible as a truncated orchestral introduction
was used
| Op.
21 |
1931, London Symphony Orchestra/Barbirolli |
1946, NBC Symphony Orchestra/Steinberg |
1958, Symphony of the Air/Wallenstein |
| I.
Maestoso |
10:56
|
12:30
|
13:15
|
| II.
Larghetto |
8:06
|
8:10
|
8:34
|
| III.
Allegro vivace |
7:33
|
7:49
|
8:03
|
As can be seen, there
is, in progressive recordings, a marked and measurable tendency
to slow down and to demonstrate greater introspection and deliberation
in each movement of both concertos. So, in that sense at least,
these Naxos accounts are very much “in the middle”.
But
does that make them the best of the bunch? The answer will almost
certainly be a matter of personal preference, but I think it
is fair to say that there is a great deal to be said in their
favour.
An
English reviewer of the 1946 performance of the F minor concerto,
quoted in Jonathan Summers’s excellent booklet notes, wrote
perceptively that “you might feel that there is an absence of
quiet, delicate playing. [Rubinstein] … takes a dashing view
of the concerto, of the first movement especially, and scarcely
anywhere is there any pianissimo ravishment. But it is
a valid view and this virile performance, with some wonderful
playing, held my attention all through with delight.” Virility
is indeed the key concept here, I think, and I personally found
this account something of a breath of fresh air, banishing even
the slightest hint of over-sentimentality and revealing the
concerto in a fresh coat of paint.
The
performance of the E minor concerto is rather less novel in
approach though it has one quirky moment where Rubinstein gives
the very opening phrase of the first movement a curious rhythmic
snap – which I don’t, pace Mr Summers, detect to “exactly
the same” extent in the subsequent 1961 re-recording. Nevertheless,
this is another very fine performance, superbly conceived and
executed. Contemporary critics had a few negative things to
say about Alfred Wallenstein’s direction of the Los Angeles
Philharmonic, but I actually found that to be one of the recording’s
great strengths. The conductor fully matches Rubinstein in strength
and vigour and, in Mark Obert-Thorn’s expert restoration, the
orchestra comes out sounding very well indeed, even allowing
for the date of the performance. Initial pressings must have
been rather odd because one English reviewer swore that he detected
a saxophone in the orchestral mix!
When
wanting to listen to a Rubinstein account of these concertos
in the future, I imagine, then, that it will almost certainly
be this one – rather than the over-impulsive 1930s accounts
or the comparatively stately traversals of his final “grand
old man” phase – that I will be taking from the shelves with
the greatest sense of pleasurable anticipation.
Rob Maynard
