Evgeny Mravinsky
In Prague
Mravinsky was no stranger to Czech audiences, having presented Shostakovich's Eighth Symphony to great acclaim at the Prague Spring Festival as early as 1947, at the helm of the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra. Regrettably, those first performances were not recorded, but later Prague concerts with his own orchestra and the Czech Philharmonic were preserved for broadcast over Czech Radio. This is the provenance of the recordings appearing in this mid-priced boxed set, which were released separately by Praga in 1994-95. Here they are presented in four jewel cases, all contained in an attractive slipcase bearing sepia images of the maestro at different times of his life. Each volume has its own booklet, with remarks on its programme. Sadly, there is no overall commentary for the set to put these performances in context, aside from one sentence in the short blurb about the conductor that is duplicated in the notes for Volumes 1 and 4. The English version of said article has Mravinsky "creating" The Song of the Forests, Violin Concerto No. 1 and Cello Concerto No. 1, though the French original and German translation rightly credit him only with leading their premières! Documentation aside, this new set is a treasure-trove for DSCH readers, as five of the seven works included were penned by Shostakovich. Missing from its rightful place in the collection is a live recording of the Tenth Symphony from 3 June 1955, formerly available on Praga PR 250053. Vol. 1: Symphony
No. 5 in D minor, op. 47; Bartok: Music for strings, percussion
and celesta, Sz 106. A classic Mravinsky Fifth here, which reinforces, rather than expands our view of his conception of this work. As usual, the maestro commands a daringly swift base tempo even in the Largo, and uses rubato freely. In preparing the work's première, thirty years earlier, Mravinsky coaxed indications of the correct tempi from a recalcitrant Shostakovich by intentionally playing the piano reduction at wrong speeds, and he was thus privy to the composer's original thoughts on this aspect of performance. By 1967, however, Mravinsky had taken possession of the work, writing, "The long life of this symphony has in itself brought about essential changes to the tempi that we marked down at that time [i.e., 1937]." Mravinsky's tempi minimize somewhat the impact of desolate passages, but deliver a visceral thrill everywhere else. Present are trademark details like the substitution of F for Ab at Fig. 127-2/7:54 in the countdown to the Finale's climax, a relict of earlier versions of the score which Mravinsky never saw fit to correct. The Leningrad Philharmonic are on top form, playing with stunning strength and precision. This powerhouse performance must have been nothing short of overwhelming to experience in person, so it's a pity that we are denied hearing the audience's reaction at its close. As to the recorded sound, the stereo image is serviceable, and the dynamic range is quite impressive. The level of tape hiss, however, varies from very loud to blaring. The silver lining is that this may distract you from the audience's coughing. This volume proves Bartok's Music for strings, percussion and celesta to be a most fitting partner to Shostakovich's Fifth; concert programmers take note. Mravinsky reaches the very core of the work. It's no exaggeration to claim this as a performance to challenge title-holder Fritz Reiner, particularly in the first movement, which winds up an almost unbearable amount of tension. Listen too for the foreboding of Mravinsky's Adagio, heightened by spooky glissandi. Vol. 2: Symphony
No. 6 in B minor, op. 54[a]; Symphony No. 12, op. 112[b]. Clearly, the Sixth Symphony struck a personal chord with Mravinsky, for here is another authoritative reading to place alongside later versions that have been available over the years (only his January 1972 account, on Melodiya 74321 25198 2, remains in the current catalogue). Like those, this one preserves its share of coughs from the audience, but, given its age, the mono recording is outstanding. Each instrument is clearly delineated, instrumental tone is rendered with stability, and even the loudest passages are quite free of distortion. Anyone searching for a Sixth Symphony Largo to stand their hairs on end need look no further, as this Prague reading serves it up every bit as chilled as in Mravinsky's other recordings. It succeeds both as a threnody to the victims of Stalinism, as Sigrid Neef aptly described this movement, and as the unanswered cry of an individual deprived of human contact. The winds played more plaintively in Mravinsky's 1965 reading on a long-deleted Melodiya LP (ASD 2805), but the Leningrad strings spare the Prague audience none of the anguish they shrieked at their compatriots. The concluding movements are as sarcastic as one could wish. As far as precision of ensemble and richness of sound go, the playing of all the Leningraders is exemplary. As Laurel Fay reveals in Shostakovich: A Life, Mravinsky was not the first to première Symphony No. 12, "The Year 1917", on 1 October 1961 as officially listed. That dubious honour had been snatched two hours earlier by Abram Stasevich with the local orchestra in Kuibyshev. The current performance from just three months later would, however, appear to be the Prague première. There's no denying the commitment that Mravinsky and the Leningrad Philharmonic display towards this ugly duckling of the Shostakovich oeuvre. Orchestral playing is excellent, Mravinsky's basic tempo moves the proceedings along briskly, and there is genuine pathos in the second movement. The audience's applause is boisterous. The Mravinsky discography maintained by Kenzo Amoh and Frank Forman claims that this Twelfth (in its former guise as Praga PR 254017) is not, in fact, a live Prague recording, but rather a Moscow studio recording from 1961. This conclusion is based on its movement timings being the same as a BMG(Japan) issue of the Moscow recording (BVCX 4026), and on the claim that it sounds like a studio recording. Not having the BMG(Japan) release to hand, I can't comment on any similarities between these two discs, but the occasional cough that surfaces above the strident analogue hiss plus the loud ovation at the end of the Praga issue leave no doubt in my mind that it is a live recording. I see no reason to question Praga's labelling. Vol. 3: Symphony
No. 11 in G minor, op. 103. This performance of "The Year 1905" is identical to the previous Praga incarnation (PR 254 018) that I reviewed in detail in DSCH 9 - as are the booklet notes and cover art, for that matter. Those who balked at purchasing the full-priced single-disc release can now acquire it at a bulk discount! Coming back to this recital for this review, I am struck anew by its grandeur and the high quality of the playing. Unlike all but one other entry in this set (Symphony No. 12), this recording preserves the audience's applause, something I'd have preferred to the abrupt silence terminating the other pieces. Otherwise, the recording quality is indifferent. Do not, however, let this cause you to miss this performance's subzero Palace Square, panic-stricken massacre, and epic mourning. The afore-mentioned Mravinsky discography also questions the date and venue of this recording, claiming that it was actually taped in the Large Studio of Moscow Radio on 2 February 1959. This is based on the supposed correspondence between movement timings for PR 254018 and BMG(Japan) BVCX 4025. I don't have a copy of the Japanese release, but I reviewed the Moscow performance in DSCH 9 when it appeared on Revelation RV 10091. The Mravinsky discography lists this as the same version as on BVCX 4025, correcting the recording date supplied by Revelation from November to February. I can confirm that the Revelation and Praga issues are indeed different performances, with different movement timings for all but the third movement - and, as for that, the timing was also identical in the 1957 version on Russian Disc (RD CD 11 157). Furthermore, the additional claim that PR 254018 sounds like a studio recording is perplexing, given the conspicuous audience noise and applause. I am confident that Praga are indeed supplying what they advertise. Vol. 4: Violin
Concerto No. 1 in A minor, op. 77[c]; Prokofiev: Symphony No. 6 in
Eb minor, op. 111[d].
The performance of the First Violin Concerto on offer here is also contained in Praga's 6-CD set, "David Oistrakh in Prague" (PR 256007). It is marred by a poorly engineered mono recording that fluctuates in sound level and captures an undue amount of audience fidgeting. Set beside the world première recording that Oistrakh made with Dimitri Mitropoulos and the New York Philharmonic the previous year, now available on Sony Masterworks Heritage MHK 63327 (reviewed in DSCH 10), this version presents a seemingly less sure-footed soloist, whose tone and rhythm are not always flawless. Both he and his orchestral accompaniment are capable without being inspired, and their interaction is less than intimate. Emotional intensity peaks sporadically in the Passacaglia, but this is a relatively lukewarm reading overall. The première recording is technically and musically preferable. Prokofiev's balletic Sixth Symphony is a more attractive feature on this volume, though the poorly balanced stereo recording doesn't do the performance justice. Mravinsky and the Leningraders expand the diversity of moods and colours within each movement, alternately startling the listener with the modernity of Prokofiev's spiky outbursts, then tugging at the heartstrings with moments of sweeping melodrama. It's a thoroughly engaging rendition that deserves repeated listening. The audience's contribution is not hard to ignore. As a set, Mravinsky in Prague is well worth its price for anyone who doesn't already own these particular recordings on previous releases. W. Mark Roberts
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