Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk, op. 29.
Mstislav Rostropovich, London Philharmonic Orchestra, John McCarthy (chorus master), Ambrosian Opera Chorus, Galina Vishnevskaya (Katerina Ismailova), Nicolai Gedda (Sergey), Dimiter Petkov (Boris Ismailov), Werner Krenn (Zinovy Ismailov), Robert Tear (Shabby Peasant), Taru Valjakka (Aksinya), Birgit Finnilä (Sonyetka), Aage Haugland (Sergeant), Martyn Hill (Teacher), Leonard Mróz (Priest), Alexander Malta (Old convict, Mill-hand), Leslie Fyson (Officer), Steven Emmerson (Porter), John Noble (Steward, Coachman), Colin Appleton (First foreman), Alan Byers (Second foreman), James Lewington (Third foreman), Oliver Broome (Policeman), Edgar Fleet (Drunken guest), David Beavan (Sentry), Lynda Richardson (Woman convict).
EMI Classics 7243 567776 2 or Angel Records 7243 567779 2 7 (Americas & East Asia). DDD. 2-CD Set TT 77:50 + 77:03.
Recorded No. 1 Studio, Abbey Road, London, 1, 3, 5-7, 10, 11, 16, 19-22 April 1978.

It may be Shostakovich's most famous, or more accurately, infamous composition. Yet this opera has had a meagre recording history. Mstislav Rostropovich was responsible for committing the original score to LP in 1979, a recording released on CD only in 1990 (EMI CDS 7499552 8; deleted). Myung Whun Chung put up a worthy fight in his 1993 recording in full digital sound (Deutsche Grammophon 437 511-2). The revised Katerina Ismailova, op. 114, has fared even worse, existing only in a 1989 recording featuring the Kiev Opera led by Stepan Turchak (Le Chant du Monde LDC 278 1021/23; deleted). That makes just three recordings of two versions of the opera in three decades.

Surely a work of such magnitude - a real masterpiece and true work of genius - deserves better than this. However, when one considers the towering achievement of Rostropovich's pioneering effort, with the white hot London Symphony Orchestra and Galina Vishnevskaya indomitable as Katerina, one might be tempted to ask: do we really need another?

The London Symphony Orchestra, sounding very Russian with their earthy colouring and Shostakovian ruggedness, convey the brutally comic satire created by the young composer to counterbalance the heroine's tragic circumstances. Rostropovich succeeds in playing the flippancy of such outrageous elements as the gallop and the waltz against the unfolding drama so that the listener can appreciate the irony of Katerina's earnest quest for love, and watch her approach her downfall like a lamb to the slaughter.

Note, for example, how Shostakovich plays out Aksinya's rape scene to music from Hypothetically Murdered, taken at murderous pace like a film in fast-forward while the cast sings in stylised Sprechtgesang reminiscent of the mob scenes in The Nose. It is telling that Sergei's conquest of Katerina draws from this scene in subtle ways, throwing light on circumstances that Katerina is blind to but of which we, as observers, are fully aware. Rostropovich makes these connections, weaving a masterly conception of the whole by seamlessly diving from aria to gallop and back, maintaining a feverish momentum and a feeling of impending doom that is released only when Katerina takes her own life.

Chung's power-packed reading is aided by the superb Paris Opéra-Bastille Orchestra, who manoeuvre the intricacies of the score marvellously, all their delightful detail brought into clear focus by Deutsche Grammophon's sparkling engineering. Chung's interludes are terrifying, especially Katerina's seduction sequence, although his detumescent trombone glissandi are not as wickedly vulgar as Rostropovich's! Another orchestral challenge better mastered by Rostropovich is Aksinya's rape scene, which is diabolically difficult and which starts messily in Chung's hands.

Vishnevskaya makes the title role her own, untouchable in her portrayal of a woman trapped by the oppressive boredom of her existence and whose parched soul screams for human touch. From the very start Vishnevskaya weaves her magic, conveying the bleakness that permeates the score with her rich, expressive voice and her remarkable power both in the upper and lowermost registers. She draws you into her horrible world, and elicits your sympathy from her very first notes.

Chung's weakest link is Maria Ewing's Katerina. Although she brings fresh aspects to the character, she is no match for Vishnevskaya in sustaining a consistent portrayal, nor in handling the extremes of register. Vishnevskaya is unrivalled in her moments of urgent breathlessness where Ewing tends to be weak; the former's impressive power in the lower registers gives her the edge.

Ewing's Katerina is a youthful, trapped animal beside Vishnevskaya's weary, hardened victim. Take the final line of Act 2, Scene 5 - "Ah, Seryozha" - where Vishnevskaya's voice soars like the complicit figure of Faustian indulgence she is, as opposed to Ewing's spine-tingling ppp crescendo, suggesting her Katerina's more sensuous, even innocent partaking of the kiss. Here Rostropovich responds with bleached tenderness, whereas Chung's more voluptuous sheen, though effective for the moment, contributes to the disjointed feel of his overall structure.

To Ewing's credit, her dramatisation, well suited to a live stage performance, is delicious even where it does not contribute meaningfully to the development of Katerina's character. For example, her "Seryozha my love" sounds as if she is still snuggled at home in bed rather than in Siberia in weary search of comfort, yet even here Ewing's sense of betrayal, if naive, is still touching.

In the end, though, Vishnevskaya begs sympathy for Katerina's unwavering strength and inevitable descent into hell for the choices she makes, while Ewing's Katerina, it is fair to say, is a silly, silly little girl.

Nicolai Gedda makes a cockier Sergei than does Chung's Sergei Larin; just listen to Gedda's Sergei taunting Katerina as she reproaches him for abusing Aksinya. Gedda sounds every bit the transparent scoundrel to Larin's more sensual, magnetic character. While Larin displays the sort of animal attraction that one might expect would draw in Katerina, Gedda supports Rostropovich's conception of the irony of her Faustian bargain, because with him it is obvious that Katerina's love is a farce, and the opera is all the more poignant for that.

Dimiter Petkov is an unshakeable Boris, his solid performance of controlled drama giving Rostropovich's satire the dark edge it demands. Interestingly, Rostropovich's Police Inspector, Aage Haugland, also plays Chung's Boris, and while he is delightfully comic, this suits the role of the Inspector better than that of Boris, diluting rather than adding to the latter's sinister presence. For example, Haugland's over-sexed "Nyet Muzhika" is worthy of the best moments in operatic comic relief, except this is neither the place nor the time for it; after all, Katerina's father-in-law is stalking her! In the hands of Petkov and Rostropovich, however, this aria, with its complex pastiche of styles, becomes a tightly woven piece that builds tension. With Haugland and Chung, the seams show.

Chung has a tendency to overplay the obvious. This might work on stage, but it gives Chung's conception a jagged, uneven finish. Compare the way the two conductors handle Boris' discovery of the illicit affair: Chung maximises the sudden appearance of a waltz to the detriment of the flow, while Rostropovich keeps a tight rein on the irony to keep tension building. Again, though Chung elicits a thrilling response from the orchestra in the first Chorus, "Why are you leaving us, Master?" it is too much, too early. His chorus is a little too earnest and eager to see Zinovy go. By holding back, Rostropovich lets the sinister undercurrent brew while his band of servants serve up a more insolent swagger - hear how they handle the phrase "Zachem?" in mockingly melodramatic response to Boris' demands.

Similarly, in the fugue at the beginning of the Wedding scene, Chung manages to build to a frightening climax, but his opening is more sparkling champagne than tainted vodka, whereas Rostropovich introduces the kind of grotesque terror found in the Fourth Symphony, reeking of disaster, into the piling timbres of strings and voices. Also, Chung's Shabby Peasant scene delights in its comic relief, but I prefer Rostropovich's measured satire. His is a brutal, terror-frozen humour, and his Shabby Peasant is no fool but a dangerous individual. Rostropovich shifts the comic centre to the Police Station, significantly heightening the humour there.

Perhaps this sums up the main differences between the two conductors' visions for the opera: Chung is colourful and dramatic, and not without terrifying moments, but it is Rostropovich who pulls everything together in a tautly woven work of satire, painted in the bleak, grey shades of his sound world. The tension is unrelenting; the sinister undercurrent festers throughout. Occasionally Chung outshines Rostropovich, as in his final Act which supplies moments of fearsome power and suicidal screams that are marginally less farcical than Rostropovich's. However, the sum of the parts do not make the whole, and it is Rostropovich who secures a satisfying broad picture, well measured and gripping from first note to last.

Chung offers the only digital version of the original Lady Macbeth, with crystal-clear sound that illuminates many of the intricate details of Shostakovich's scoring. However, the rebirth of Rostropovich's recording is part of EMI's Great Recordings of the Century series, which employs their new Prism SNS system with 20-bit Analogue-to-Digital Conversion to reproduce the original tape masters more faithfully than in the previous CD issue. In fact, critics have noted that of all the recordings in the series, this one stands out in terms of sound quality. I, too, was instantly struck by the natural acoustics of the new issue, and could hardly believe that this was the same recording that I had enjoyed for so many years despite the rather harsh sound of its previous CD release. The new disc produces a warm, smooth sound even through the most trying sections of the opera - and with the score's high tessitura and relentlessly loud passages, there are many! Spectrum analysis confirms what my ears tell me; the dynamic range is wider in the reissue and the upper frequency spectrum is completely flat where the old remastering rolled off badly. Thus, the full range of high frequencies (the atmosphere and ambience, if you will) is now preserved.

The reissue also provides nearly twice as many track cues as either the original or Deutsche Grammophon's set, which is extremely helpful for navigating around the opera. I will miss the original booklet notes by Solomon Volkov, which explore with great candour the psychology behind the opera (DG boast comprehensive annotation by David Fanning, a mini study in itself, complete with musical listings of the key motifs of the opera). Perhaps it was political expediency on EMI's part that led the commissioning of a new set of notes by Richard Osborne, who concentrates more on the opera's recording history than its controversial background. It includes a fascinating revelation, a claim by Rostropovich that one of the last things Shostakovich had told him was, "If you ever perform Lady Macbeth, please do the first one."

Listening again to the EMI recording is to relive the thrill of my first encounter with the opera. During the recording sessions, Rostropovich was described as a man "thrice possessed", and his authority at the baton in a Shostakovich score has never been more compelling. Now that Rostropovich's classic session is back with a vengeance, Chung's is likely to take a back seat for a long, long time.

CH Loh
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DSCH No. 18.
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