RECORDING OF THE MONTH
Alexander SCRIABIN (1872-1915)
Symphony No. 1 in E major, Op. 26 (1899-1900) [57:25]
Poème de l’extase, Op. 54 (1905-1908) [21:22]
Svetlana Shilova (soprano), Mikhail Gubsky (tenor), Vladislav Lavrik (trumpet),
Norbert Gembaczka (organ)
Chamber Choir of the Moscow Conservatory
Russian National Orchestra/Mikhail Pletnev
rec. March 2014, DZZ Studio 5, Moscow, Russia
Reviewed as a 24/96 download
Pdf booklet includes sung texts (Cyrillic and English)
PENTATONE PTC5186514 SACD [78:00]
The Scriabin centenary got off to a good start with Garrick
Ohlsson’s top-notch traversal of the Poèmes.
No doubt there will be many more tributes to this complex and enigmatic composer,
including well-priced compendia such as the 18-CD Scriabin Edition from Decca
Universal. Buried in that box, which boasts 64 newly recorded items, are Vladimir
Ashkenazy’s recordings of Symphonies 1 and 3, Eliahu Inbal’s No.
2 and Valery Gergiev’s Poème de l’extase. Rob Barnett
welcomed the Ashkenazy
set, recorded in the 1990s, adding that it would suit those who find Scriabin
‘consistently hysterical’. Not that I ever do, but I can understand
why others might think differently.
Mikhail Pletnev’s new Pentatone recording of Symphony No. 1 and the
Poème de l’extase also has to compete with Riccardo Muti’s
celebrated Philadelphia set for Warner (review)
and Leif Segerstam’s, with the Royal Stockholm Philharmonic, for BIS
(review).
In his favour Pletnev has at his fingertips the Russian National Orchestra,
which he founded in 1990. These splendid players are in peak form, having
just recorded a revelatory account of Shostakovich’s Leningrad
with Paavo Järvi. That recording and this one also benefit from Polyhymnia’s
impressive engineering skills.
Scriabin’s First Symphony, in six movements with a vocal finale in praise
of the supremacy of Art, is a remarkably sensual piece that really does demand
dedicated interpreters. There’s no doubt that Muti – not always
the most subtle of conductors – is one of them; he’s blessed with
the legendary Philadelphia sound – Ormandy stepped down in 1980, just
a few years before these recordings were made – not to mention a full-bodied
recording. Listening to Segerstam after that is instructive, for while there
is much detail to be found in his Scriabin performances there’s not
much of the hypnotic, sense-stroking beauty that I associate with these pieces.
As a result, I must exclude his set from my list of comparisons.
In Pletnev’s hands the opening bars of the first Lento waft
into one’s consciousness as if borne on a gentle, perfumed zephyr. It’s
clear this is going to be a finely calibrated and highly poetic performance;
also, the music has a certain, seamless flow, and the micrometer-like precision
of the orchestral playing is just right for this score. Goodness, what stupendous
playing and exemplary sonics. Indeed, Muti’s performance seems almost
garish by comparison, his recording almost crude.
Make no mistake, Pletnev’s reading is not a self-indulgent wallow, as
his sharply characterised Allegro dramatico so amply demonstrates.
Once again the level of detail that emerges from this recording is extraordinary,
as is the range and sophistication of Scriabin’s colour palette. Such
is Pletnev’s authoritative/intuitive way with this music that I don’t
hear any of the longueurs that often plague the piece. And lest one
think this symphony is all about flutters and fibrillations, there’s
thrilling weight and amplitude as well. Moreover, Pletnev integrates these
elements rather more effectively than Muti, who's rather impulsive at times...
No one, and I mean no one, delivers the second Lento more beautifully
than Pletnev and the RNO. Together they create an air of delicious intoxication
that seduced me from the start; indeed, it’s as if they’ve unlatched
and unleashed all one’s dormant senses. From the music’s languid
caresses to its precipitous teasings, this is the most erotically charged
performance of the piece I can recall. No wonder the literary satyr Henry
Miller extolled Scriabin’s oeuvre. The Vivace, played here
with unparalleled delicacy and point, is a reminder of Scriabin’s -
and Pletnev's - attention to even the smallest of details. Not even Muti comes
close to such levels of excavation and insight.
Pletnev’s grasp of the work’s architecture is beyond doubt –
there are no weak spots, even in the sometimes rhetoric-prone Allegro
– and his soloists in the finale are much better than Muti’s.
Soprano Svetlana Shilova is creamy and secure, and tenor Mikhail Gubsky adds
ringing ardour to the mix. The Pentatone balance is preferable too, so we
get warm, very communicative soloists rather than bright, somewhat excitable
ones. The chorus sing with unalloyed passion and purpose while, unerring as
always, Pletnev guides the work to its all-consuming close. The moment of
release, when it comes, is almost indescribable in its intensity and impact.
Heavens, what an experience. In fact I’m certain you won’t hear
a more powerful or persuasive account of this piece any time soon. As so often
with ‘difficult’ composers – mavericks such as Havergal
Brian and Rued Langgaard spring to mind – it takes a proselytizing zeal
to unlock these seemingly abstruse scores. It’s a measure of Pletnev’s
skill that Scriabin’s First Symphony is finally revealed for the masterpiece
it is. One mustn’t forget the contributing talents of the Polyhymnia
team, especially those of producer, balance engineer and editor Erdo Groot.
His name may be incorrect at one point in the credits, but otherwise there's
not a single blemish in this splendid recording.
After all that unbridled passion one might be tempted to recover in a darkened
room before tackling Scriabin’s so-called ‘Symphony No. 4’,
the Poème de l’extase. With the composer’s talk of mystic
chords and the Cosmos/Spirit, newcomers to the work might expect a grand musical
séance; nothing could be further from the truth, for this is a robust and
clear-eyed score laced with moments of colossal grandeur. Muti certainly plays
it that way, and Warner’s ultra-vivid recording really stokes up the
fires. As before the Philadelphians respond to the music with great enthusiasm
and energy.
That’s not the only way to play the Poème, as Pletnev proceeds
to demonstrate. The discreet harp figures and gold-threaded trumpet at the
start point to a refined, highly nuanced reading. So it proves, for whereas
Muti succumbs to the big gestures, Pletnev exercises a degree of control that
builds tension rather than releases it too soon. Also, there’s a greater
sense of the mystic and mysterious in the Pentatone performance; even the
trumpet rises from the mix in a most atmospheric way. Muti’s percussionists
are suitably thunderous – Pletnev’s are much better defined though,
the bass drum especially – and there are times when Muti's Poème
sounds more like Respighi’s Roman carnivals than a contemplation of
loftier things.
Interestingly, Pletnev’s Scriabin was recorded in a studio, so the organ
of St Ludwig-Kirche has been spliced in. It too makes a mighty noise, along
with all those pealing bells. Once again the recording pushes the envelope,
with overwhelming results. I imagine this would be even more immersive in
its multi-channel form.
I hope this is just the start of a Scriabin series from Pletnev and the RNO,
for we desperately need strong, redefining accounts of these underrated works.
It goes without saying that Pentatone/Polyhymnia are the right team for such
a project. Will I be ditching Muti any time soon? Not just yet, but if Pletnev
does give us a new cycle it will surely sweep the board.
Incandescent Scriabin, superbly recorded; Muti has met his match at last.
Dan Morgan
twitter.com/mahlerei
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