The Execution of Stepan Razin, opus 119[a]; October, opus 131[b]; Five Fragments, opus 42[c].
Gerard Schwarz, Seattle Symphony, Charles Robert Austin (bass-baritone)[a], Seattle Symphony Chorale[a].
Naxos 8.557812. DDD. TT 52:22.
Recorded at the Seattle Center Opera House, June 1996[a]; S. Mark Taper Foundation Auditorium, Benaroya Hall, Seattle, February 2000[b]/February 2005[c].

This performance of the Execution of Stepan Razin dates from 1996 and has only now been released. Gerard Schwarz is mainly known as the conductor of the Seattle Symphony Orchestra, a post he has held since 1985, and for a distinguished series of recordings exploring the lesser-known works of 20th century American music. While a number of these recordings have earned high critical acclaim, Schwarz is generally regarded as a competent conductor with a hit-or-miss track record of interpretation, even in his own area of concentration. What, then, could he possibly do with a major work by a Russian composer with whom he is not usually associated?

Schwarz joins an elite company of conductors who have brought Stepan Razin to disc: Kondrashin, Kegel, Jurowski, Polyansky, Slovak, and Andreev. It is not hard to understand why the work has attracted relatively little attention. When a performance fails, as the Andreev version drearily demonstrates (Koch 3-7017-2 H1), it fails miserably. Effectively performed, however, the music is as electrifying as anything Shostakovich wrote.

Half an hour in length, Stepan Razin unfolds in one continuous movement as a series of high-strung episodes that place extreme demands on the energy and concentration of its interpreters. The bass soloist bears the anger, outrage, and irony of the legendary protagonist, who, having led a grass roots revolt against the czar, is captured, hauled into Moscow's Red Square, humiliated, and beheaded. The text is loaded with autobiographical reverberations; the musical setting is explosive.

One complaint I have about the current version is that soloist Charles Robert Austin lacks the menacing edge and dark tones of other performers of the work. His being a bass-baritone only partly accounts for this. In the Polyansky version (Chandos CHAN 9813; reviewed in DSCH No. 17), baritone Anatoly Lochak breaks rank with his predecessors and with the indication in the score as the first non-bass to take up the part. What Lochak lacks in vocal weight, though, he makes up in visceral drama as he portrays a forceful, impassioned Razin. Austin projects enough masculine strength and lyrical sensitivity to get by, but misses the fire-in-the-belly quality that we find in the best portrayals.

Still, Schwarz's version impresses by the merits of the performance turned in by the Seattle Symphony Orchestra and chorus. In contrast to the Polyansky version with its pulling and pushing of tempi and its impulsive dynamic shifts, Schwarz's is driven with self-assured stability and grounded emotional power. Impressive weight and solidity of orchestral sound are achieved in this recording. The result is a performance of overwhelming magnitude with excellent ensemble work that gains access to the music's deepest currents. The Seattle Symphony Chorale, even with their un-Slavic phonetic Russian, give a stirring, first-class performance. This is as purposeful and communicative a Stepan Razin as one will find.

The October tone poem has had the steadfast, acoustically ambient rendition of Järvi and the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra (Deutsche Grammophon 459 415-2) and the rousing, operatic version by Ashkenazy and the Royal Philharmonic (Decca 289 475 7431), among others. Now enter Gerard Schwarz, whose October rolls out on sonic boulders in a concert hall eager to capture every detail. The weight and expressive equilibrium elicited from the Seattle musicians render the bone and muscle of this musical behemoth exceedingly well. The strong sectional playing and beautifully balanced sound bring each orchestral group into vivid focus. This is an October with a big, earthy resonance; one that will handsomely repay repeated hearings.

Likewise, clarity and strength are brought to the twisty conversations that take place between solo instruments in the rarely performed Five Fragments, dating from Shostakovich's pre-Lady Macbeth years.

Schwarz and his Seattle colleagues offer here an album whose wonders never cease. Unhesitatingly recommended.

Louis Blois
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