Malipiero wrote 11 numbered symphonies, recordings of all of
which, originally on the Marco Polo label, have now been re-issued
by Naxos in five volumes … wherever there is an adequate performing
version. In each case, the Moscow Symphony Orchestra under the
French conductor and musicologist, Antonio de Almeida, play
persuasively. They bring verve and enthusiasm to the music,
which was written across Malipiero's long career, though not
at every stage in it: he wrote no fewer than seven sinfonie
between 1944 and 1951. It's a worthwhile set to own; that's
just as well, because it's the only effectively complete set.
It omits the early Sinfonia degli eroi. But includes
half a dozen unnumbered works to which Malipiero gave the title,
sinfonia and is one of very few other recordings of Malipiero's
symphonies anyway.
The three works on this final re-issue - from almost 20 years
ago - in the series are three: by far the longest at almost
three quarters of an hour in four distinct parts, Spring, Summer,
Autumn and Winter, is the Sinfonia dello zodiaco ('Zodiac
Symphony') which was published in 1951. It's not to be confused
with the composer's first symphony, subtitled 'In quattro tempi,
come le quattro stagioni', or 'In four movements, like the four
seasons'. Each part of Sinfonia dello zodiaco is further
divided into three movements corresponding to the months of
which the seasons are made up, although they are not named other
than with tempo markings. Malipiero was evasive about the origins
of the symphony in particular and any relationships with astrology
or the seasonal year in general. It's hard to see anything like
the same programmatic correspondence as is clearly the case
with Vivaldi - even though the latter had texts.
The excellent liner-notes that come with this CD indicate that
the first movements of each part (movements 1, 4, 7 and 10)
suggest seasonal characteristics. Certainly the thin, frozen
tentative nature of the beginning of winter (10) is remarkably
apposite. The Moscow Symphony Orchestra lives very well with
the dichotomy that comes from such a diffuse structure (or at
least inexplicit and more impressionistic than purely descriptive)
on the one hand; and much colour, motivic variety and quiet
purpose as opposed to extra-musical wandering, on the other.
Like many other composers, Malipiero was superstitious about
his symphonies' numbering, making efforts to avoid writing a
ninth which to this day still confuse. When he eventually felt
it safe to do so, he was in his 80s and had written at least
two others which could have been so called. The official Ninth
"dell’ahimè" (the '"alas" (symphony)'
perhaps) dates from 1966. It's much more pointed and punchy
than the earlier work. It's shorter, too; at just a quarter
of an hour, which is, in fact, more typical of the composer.
For as much as Malipiero seems interested in developing thematic
progression, he proportionally eschews wholly consistent tonal
bases; or, more accurately, he encourages tonal clashes.
The Tenth also has a subtitle. It implies winding down or disability
due to age, 'atrophy' is implicit, although Atropo is
Atropos, one of the Greek goddesses of fate. In fact it's dedicated
to the memory of conductor Hermann Scherchen, a great friend
of Malipiero's: the former collapsed and died immediately after
a performance of the latter's operatic triptych L’Orfeide
at the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino of 1966. The Tenth Symphony
is rich in relevant quotations. If the Ninth is bleak, the Tenth
is bleaker. Again the orchestra is totally in tune with the
spirit and musical construction which Malipiero embraced in
order to breathe life into these admittedly somewhat enigmatic
works. The qualities of sincerity, unobtrusive yet barely assimilated
distress, and a vestige of hope (the serene second movement
[tr.17]) make this a fitting ending to this symphonic portrait
of an under-appreciated composer. More and more Malipiero is
beginning to be offered as the most significant Italian symphonist
of his generation.
There is nothing of regimentation, bombast, driven hectoring
or short cuts to orchestral (particularly string) colour in
the playing of the Moscow Symphony. De Almeida has a light but
firm and unambiguous touch at all times. One might just perhaps
level the criticism of somewhat staid tempi on occasions. Maybe
a touch more pep in the third, marked mosso, movement
of the Tenth, for example.
On the whole, though, this is a recording to be returned to,
learnt from and from which new depths can be derived at each
revisit. No one section of the orchestra stands out as particularly
worthy of merit. Indeed, the sense of ensemble between woodwind
and strings, say, is highly satisfactory. The difficult, because
slightly self-conscious, diminuendo bell effect two and
a half minutes into the Tenth's last movement (again, marked
molto vivace and perhaps lacking just a touch of drive)
is well handled too.
If you've been collecting the series you'll want to add this
concluding CD. If you're just joining, the interpretations are
of sufficiently high standard to make you want to work your
way backwards and explore more widely.
Mark Sealey
Moscow Symphony Orchestra/Antonio de Almeida 
