Available for £10.95 plus P&P from www.silveroakmusic.com
Available from HMV Japan

Mravinsky in Moscow 1965
Symphony No. 6 in B minor, opus 54; Glinka: Overture to Ruslan and Ludmilla; Musorgsky: Dawn on the Moscow River; Lyadov: Baba Yaga; Glazunov: Raymonda Entr'acte Act 3; Wagner: Lohengrin Prelude to Act 3; Ride of the Valkyries; Mozart: Overture to Le Nozze di Figaro; Sibelius: The Swan of Tuonela, op.22 No.3; Symphony No.7 in C major, op.105; Hindemith: Die Harmonie der Welt; Stravinsky: Apollon Musagete; Debussy: Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune; Bartók: Music for Strings, Percussion & Celesta; Honegger: Symphony No. 3 Liturgique.
Yevgeny Mravinsky, Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra.
Scribendum SC031. A_D. 4 CD Set.
Recorded live Moscow, February 1965.

Kondrashin in Japan: Vol. 4
Symphony No. 6 in B minor, opus 54[a]; Violin Concerto No. 1 in A minor, opus 77[b].
Kirill Kondrashin, Moscow Philharmonic Orchestra, David Oistrakh (violin)[b].
Altus ALT046. ADD. TT 58:55.
Recorded live Bunkakaikan Large Hall, Tokyo, 4[b] and 18[a] April 1967.

Symphony No. 1 in F minor, opus 10[a]; Symphony No. 6 in B minor, opus 54[b].
Stanislav Skrowaczewski, Hallé Orchestra.
Hallé CD HLL7506. DDD. TT 61:05.
Recorded Bridgewater Hall, Manchester, 1 November 1996[a] and 7 November 1997[b].
Enhanced CD provides link to Hallé Orchestra website when played in a computer CD-ROM drive (PC only).

The Scribendum Mravinsky box documents a single week of intense, live music-making in the Soviet Union, at the end of February 1965. Arriving just a little late for last year's celebration of the conductor's centenary, the four CDs are sure to impress anyone new to his art, or to the sound of the Leningrad Philharmonic at the time. Mravinsky and his players pursue musical passion and truth, as though each of these Moscow winter concerts was their last chance to play live.

These were also great days for other partnerships across the world: Ormandy and the Philadelphia; Karajan in Berlin; Bernstein in New York; Klemperer, slowing but sure, with the Philharmonia. The Beatles made Rubber Soul, too, and never did better. The very same week that Mravinsky and the Leningrad players were greeting a bronchial-sounding public at the Grand Hall of the Moscow Conservatoire with this brilliant, yet musically sane account of the overture to Ruslan and Ludmilla, the Beatles flew to the Bahamas, and were well into the shooting schedule for Help.

No such luck for the chesty Muscovites, who are as integral a part of the sound of these recordings as the orchestra itself. Without them, the terrific nervous charge would be all the less hair-raising, so the coughs are worth the bearing. There are some thumps, and other noises, but often the orchestral sparks fly so high that the collective breath must just be held in wonder. We don't hear playing like this anymore, anywhere, and the experience, on its day, was unsurpassed by any of the other starry pairings listed above, though Ormandy and his band could run them close, live, in the popular Russian favourites heard here.

These are familiar recordings, and many collectors will have owned some or most of them on LPs from Melodiya, Angel, or HMV; or on CD issues, including those from Olympia. The Scribendum transfers are equal to most of those. The hall itself sounds very fine, and some sense of its acoustic has survived the various remastering stages pretty well: it is a bright, atmospheric, if dated stereo image. Thumps are clearer than strings, but it is a little late now to move the mikes backwards, just a touch. The Lohengrin extract remains almost unlistenably shrill - a real ear-bleeder, as owners of the Olympia transfer will already know. Treble is boosted to accommodate the cymbals (which you will not miss) while bass is non-existent. The result is un-equalisable and sounds ludicrous. Otherwise, sonically, things are fine, though I would be very happy to hear straight transfers of the HMV/Melodiya analogue remasterings of this, and other Russian-recorded repertoire.

The audience do not sound disappointed, their vigorous applause breaking in just a fraction too early for repeated comfort, on many occasions. An exception is the Sibelius Seventh Symphony. Maazel and the Vienna Philharmonic made a memorable and acclaimed recording of this, in the '60s and in glorious Decca sound, but it wasn't as good as this. Mravinsky redefines the work, and raises its stature. There are 'imperfections' and the inimitable Leningrad solo trombone timbre to live with, but this is the greatest recorded interpretation of the Seventh that I know. Here your reviewer for once feels on reasonably safe ground in his judgement, having heard pretty much all the myriad commercial versions, and more than a few airchecks. Collins, Karajan, Beecham, Ormandy, Davis, Berglund… the list of distinguished Sevenths is long. The competing accounts nearly all offer more indulgent string tone, longer timing, more sustained intensity, sometimes of a Brucknerian nature, and very impressive too. Mravinsky finds instead in the work a kind of gruff modernism, which he and the players combine with the sort of local colour that made their Tchaikovsky symphony performances so distinctive. On this showing, it is not unreasonable to think of the Finn as being in part a Petersburg composer, and one imagines as a result the entire Sibelius repertoire, performed in this fashion, in the mind's ear. If only someone would come close to this striking, idiomatic approach, in modern sound. The opening is usually made into an epitome of stepwise tonal progression, an evocation of profound depths and mysteries, or eternal logic. Here it is just as if a stranger strides up to you, no nonsense, and sets you to work right away on a brief, urgent symphonic agenda that could so easily have changed the course of music, given a less serially inclined mid-century. Koussevitsky knew how the piece should go too, and is hors concours, but at the end, Mravinsky and the LPO beat even his live BBCSO account for stark, earthy impact. The audience can't believe what they have heard, and forget to clap for a moment. The Swan sails away even more atmospherically than in the various Stokowski recordings, though she has a coughing Muscovite on her back just when you least want to hear one. Nonetheless, two of the greatest, most disconcerting Sibelius recordings ever taped.

The Mozart performances are excellent too, scrupulously prepared, and affectionate, while Stravinsky's Frenchified version of German Classicism in Apollo for once sounds Russian, and the better for it, from the Leningrad strings, reminding us of Arthur Lourié's possible influence on, and admiration for this beguiling score. The remaining major "foreign" works bring some disappointments. In the case of the Hindemith Harmonie der Welt symphony, the disappointments certainly don't relate to the performance, which surpasses those by Furtwängler and the composer himself, but to the work, which is not wearing well. The Honegger is fine, but not among the greats; the Debussy sounds a little uncomfortable; while the Bartók is rather slipshod, for once, and no match for Reiner or Fricsay. The encores feature glorious, rumbling and rambling bassoon figuration in Baba Yaga, real passion in the Raymonda extract, and an inspiring Dawn on the Moscow River. The alternate "takes" from different concerts the same week are neither here nor there. The Valkyries ride in and out as brutally and brilliantly as the noisy Lohengrin wedding guests, with similar recording values. Better tonal and dynamic range has been heard in most other places, even through the use of this music for Bugs Bunny purposes.

Maybe there is just a hint of Fritz Freleng about the Presto of the Shostakovich B minor Sixth Symphony, especially as heard here, really up to speed for once, with everyone on board, in what may be the work's most famous, most highly esteemed recording. For many, including I believe our recordings editor, this account is the Sixth; the one we all grew up with. There isn't really much that I can add: if you like Shostakovich, you need to hear this version of opus 54. With Stokowski/Philadelphia, it is the best, most compelling, and disturbing recording of a still-underestimated symphony. In other hands, it doesn't sound the same work.

What we hear on the disc, according to Scribendum, is a composite performance: the Largo and Allegro come from the concert on 21st February, 1965, while that unmatched Presto was taped a week later. Kenzo Amoh's discography disagrees, placing the whole performance on the 21st.

Mravinsky's Largo has all the gravitas and sustained grief lacking in Kondrashin's account, taped two years later in Tokyo, in the age of Sgt. Pepper this time, and now released on Altus. The Sixth brought a consistent approach from this conductor, too quick in the Largo and lacking the sheer forward thrust and fantasy of Mravinsky in the two quick movements that follow. In variable sound, this account may be preferable to his Melodiya studio version, but Shostakovich admirers will have to buy this disc anyway, thanks to the outstanding live performance of the First Violin Concerto. Oistrakh with Kondrashin must be heard, along with Oistrakh and Mravinsky, Oistrakh and Mitropoulos, Oistrakh and Maxim. The orchestra is inspired, the soloist on fire, and the listener is left speechless by the work's greatness. The recording is cavernous, but this aspect is quickly forgotten.

However most collectors will want an account of such works in modern sound, and in the case of the Sixth, Skrowaczewski and the Hallé look a tempting bargain, coupled with a straight, serious reading of the First Symphony. Great character in the Allegro of opus 10 and splendid playing, driven on by one of the most experienced of all Shostakovich conductors, whose recordings date back to a famous Fifth on Mercury, from 1960. This account of the First comes from 1996, and, like the Sixth, it was recorded in Manchester's Bridgewater Hall, to atmospheric, and sometimes spectacular effect. The orchestra sounds in great shape, and steeped in these scores. There are some tempo changes in the Lento of opus 10 which will strike some as over-confident, but the conductor does not underplay the work's symphonic strengths. Kondrashin is king here with Kurtz, Bernstein, and maybe Barshai as alternatives. But Skrowaczewski's is no routine run-through; it is one of the best, even if the very end could have more of a snarl about it.

The Sixth has been less lucky on records in recent times, and this slightly earlier performance is not quite as convincing as Skrowaczewski's First Symphony. I'm not sure the composer wrote a finer symphonic first movement than the Sixth's Largo. This version takes a few minutes to wake up, then generates some genuine Mahlerian tension for the long, lonely Winterreise of the central sections. As sound, it is beautiful, with lovely winds, recorded quite closely. Previn and Berglund found a bleaker setting here, but no one matches the first Stokowski for atmosphere, or Mravinsky for tension. Rozhdestvensky would have made a fine choice, had the sound been better; Temirkanov is good, but arguably too affectionate. Skrowaczewski once more uses indulgent rubato at the start of the recapitulation in the Largo, and later. Something a little straighter pays dividends in this movement, preparing us for the chill of that closing pianissimo.

Skrowaczewski attempts a Mravinsky tempo in the Allegro, which challenges the orchestra, but rather this than a lumbering approach. The Presto is played in classical fashion, without the vivid, differentiated characterisation and sardonic wit of Mravinsky, or the Leningraders' flexibility, but with close attention to the score it makes for a convincing finale. Barshai is better in both last movements, but his Largo is not up to scratch. This inexpensive Hallé disc is recommendable, especially for newcomers.

Complaints? I have a few. But not today, and too few to mention. Stan Laurel died that same week, in February 1965, but he could not possibly be blamed for the fine mess Scribendum have gotten the track ordering into, for their Mravinsky box. A chronological layout, concert-by-concert, would have made far more sense. And if this Sixth is indeed a composite, where are the missing movements from the two performances? Notes are fine as far as they go, but some more research into these specific, historic occasions would have made very welcome reading.

So should you buy the Scribendum set anyway? Well, it comes at mid-price, and features two unbeatable versions of standard repertoire pieces, along with a host of other interesting, powerful interpretations, and the sound is good. If you have the core performances already, there is no need to get this set, just for completeness' sake. A single disc of the Shostakovich, Sibelius, and short Russian works would tell most of the story. But if you have none of the recordings, and don't trust the industry to produce a better presentation of this historic material in the near future - which it richly deserves - then acquire the box and start spending your evenings in a scintillating time-warp, just four months into the Brezhnev era. Once you have it, you won't let go.

Paul Ingram
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