Karel Ancerl Gold Edition, Volume 42
Cello Concerto No. 1 in Eb major, opus 107[a]; Liszt: Les Preludes[b]; Lubor Bárta: Concerto for Viola and Orchestra[c].
Karel Ancerl, Czech Philharmonic Orchestra, Milos Sádlo (cello)[a], Jaroslav Karlovsky (viola)[c].
Supraphon SU 3702-2 011. ADD. TT 69:05.
Recorded in the Dvorák Hall of the Rudolfinum, Prague, 6-8 June 1968[a], 17-18 December 1964[b], 19-20 June 1961[c].

Karel Ancerl did not take much Shostakovich into the studio, only Symphonies Nos. 1, 5, 7, 9 and 10, the First Cello Concerto and the Festive Overture. Even the available off-air recordings merely duplicate the studio tapings of the middle three symphonies. However, his recordings are regularly and rightly hailed as among the most recommendable. This disc somewhat strangely couples the Cello Concerto to a romantic tone poem and a modern Czech piece—Ancerl was a great advocate of his contemporary countrymen, and several discs in the Gold Edition include valuable recordings of such rare repertoire.

Though he captured Brahms' autumnal works beautifully, Ancerl is not so well remembered for Romantic music, and Liszt was at the edge of his concerns. Les Preludes is the best known of Liszt's tone poems, though as the apparent programme post-dated the composition, it is debatable whether the term is correct. The work is possibly less popular now than when (under Karajan) it was used to demonstrate hi-fi. Ancerl avoids the pitfall of making it a brash orchestral showpiece. What is most remarkable is his sensitivity to the subtlety of the score's colours, which here seem eminently suited to the Czech musicians' warm and round tones: especially welcome is the brass' refusal to blow to the point of rasping.

Next up in the programme is the lithe and sinewy Viola Concerto from 1957 by Lubor Bartá, who was short-lived (1928-72) but produced a large body of work. It shortly predates Bartá's move into a more avant-garde style, and is reminiscent of Prokofiev and Bartók. In contrast to the Shostakovich, the soloist is not so much of a combatant as a first amongst equals and, echoing this, several moments hint at neoclassicism. This might not be the most distinctive concerto ever written, but its enjoyable 23 minutes spark interest in hearing more of Bartá's work.

Ancerl and Sádlo recorded Shostakovich's Cello Concerto in June 1968, just before the Russian invasion of Prague, in response to which the conductor took the painful decision to leave his homeland. The performance begins slightly heavily, with a deliberate tempo; the recording, warm to the point of slight boxiness, increases the feeling. Of course, one of the joys of hearing the Czech Phil either on disc or live is their wonderfully woody tone. Though here they seem unable to put a sharper edge on their playing, this is in keeping with Sádlo, who doesn't see the first movement as very anguished. His (sadly uncredited) horn counterpart reinforces the impression by skipping along quite lightly.

While the second movement is certainly introspective it never moves into the time-stopping self-absorption that Rostropovich can achieve. The contrasts between the slow melodic sections and the more percussive intrusions tend to be downplayed, in a way that is indicative of the whole performance.

One of the most fascinating and successful things about this concerto is the way that the soloist has to fight for quiet, personal space, making the slow passages of the ruminative, inward-looking cadenza the heart of the work. But Sádlo is again more outward looking and demonstrative than self-communing, and in the intense up and down arpeggios at the end of the cadenza he seems intent on ensuring that every note is heard, losing the manic edge that leaves the soloist with nowhere to go and demands the orchestra's re-entry.

By now it will be unsurprising to learn that the finale is not played to extremes, but rather has a steady tempo and a relatively restrained view of the solo part, so that the final bars, though exciting (have they ever failed to be?), don't have the intense sense of release that some recordings achieve.

In short then, not a central performance but an interesting and always enjoyable one to pick for a less intense view of the Cello Concerto. It was previously available on Supraphon SU 1950-2 011 coupled to Ancerl and André Navarra's traversal of Prokofiev's Symphony-Concerto. I wouldn't pick that as the definitive version of the Prokofiev, but it made a more appropriate programme than this Gold Edition re-release. On the other hand, I was certainly glad to get to know Bárta's Concerto and am happy to have both discs on my shelf.

 

John Riley
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