Cello Concerto No. 1 in E flat, Op. 107[a], Cello Concerto No. 2 in G, Op. 126[b], Satires (Pictures of the Past), Op. 109 - Five Romances for Soprano and Piano[c]. Rostropovich recorded these concertos, both dedicated to him, several times after giving their first performances. I felt that his later outings with Seiji Ozawa were rather too sober, owing mainly to Ozawa's flat direction (Erato 2292-45332-2 and Deutsche Grammophon DG 431475-2). This leaves vintage recordings that, inevitably, suffer from limitations of sound quality. Rostropovich appeared, with Eugene Ormandy conducting the Philadelphia Orchestra, in the very first recording of Op. 107 in studio sessions following the American première. This stereo recording was lately available on CBS Masterworks (MPK 44850) and is due to reappear this month as Sony Classical Masterworks Heritage MHK 63327. It is a remarkable document; one can almost smell the newness of the music, and the playing is as fine as one would expect from the team and from the fact that the studio allowed for second chances.
As for the performances on the present CD, they show the music at its most raw, in all senses of that word. The First Cello Concerto recording (previously available on Russian Disc RD CD11106), comes from January 1965. The opening movement is attacked with dazzling fury, and under this pressure the horn soloist is woefully inaccurate. Rostropovich too misses a few notes. The Moderato offers greater technical assurance without taking the edge off the cello and orchestral strings. It is one of the most anguished recitals of this movement that one is ever likely to encounter. The cadenza maintains rapt concentration, before plunging into the final movement, which is as impetuous as the first. This performance isn't for those with low tolerance for errors, but you won't find a more exciting reading on disc. The Second Cello Concerto, from November 1967, is even easier to recommend. Rostropovich's command is secure at all times, and Oistrakh fully exploits the sombre undercurrents and mechanical juddering of the orchestral writing. Ensemble is better than in the previous performance, and the strings deserve special mention, with shimmering violins and gloomy double-basses. Listen also for the warbling brass in the second movement. In the Largo, Rostropovich admits just enough vibrato to engage the heart without consoling it. The orchestra are appropriately deranged in the central section of the movement, with precise pizzicato work. After an uneasy return to contemplative playing for the rest of the Largo, all players switch back to this controlled lunacy for the second movement. Paradoxically, even though the last movement is given a very light touch, this almost callous refusal to aggrandize its gestures leaves a deep disquiet that is hard to shake for a long time afterwards. Revelation's partnering of Satires keeps the recordings on this release within the family, as the opus is dedicated to Vishnevskaya, and the husband-and-wife duo also gave the first performance, with Rostropovich trading his cello for a piano. This recording comes from October 1967, nearly eight years after the première at which Rostropovich and Vishnevskaya had to encore the work twice for the appreciative audience. With her music-hall background, Vishnevskaya clearly relishes the arching lines of these five satiric pieces. She fits her singing to the pointed humour of the texts, sounding for all the world like Florence Foster Jenkins without the tone-deafness. Rostropovich's own role is less conspicuous, but his tinkling is most endearing in the fifth romance, Kreutzer Sonata. Regrettably, Revelation supply no texts. Sound in these recordings is more than acceptable, and the live audiences are unobtrusive. However, a serious problem exists with this release, which Revelation say they are in the process of resolving. Due to a mix-up with Revelation's data-storage server, an undetermined number of copies of this release have been distributed with Portuguese composer Fernando Lopes-Graça's Concerto de Camera, a cello work Rostropovich commissioned and premièred (1967), substitued for Shostakovich's Cello Concerto No. 2. My first notice of this was in December last year, when DSCH subscriber C. H. Loh reported that he had unsuspectingly bought one such copy. Revelation informed me then that the problem had affected a small number of discs that shipped prematurely, and that they had recalled and replaced them; they presumed that Mr. Loh's copy had slipped through their exporter's net. Now, however, I have learned that DSCH's own Editor encountered copies bearing Concerto de Camera at mainstream London retailers both times he attempted to obtain the disc - most recently in June this year. This error is particularly regrettable as Shostakovich's Second Concerto is far less well-known than the First, so some people might not realise that the second work on their flawed disc is not what the listing claims it to be! There is no way to determine from the outside of the jewel case if a given copy is the genuine article, so prospective purchasers should insist on listening before buying. W. Mark Roberts DSCH No. 9. |
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