Smetana: Ma Vlast (CD review)

Also, Dvorak: In Nature's Realm. Antal Dorati, Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra. Newton Classics 8802073 (2-disc set).

Czech composer Bedrich Smetana (1824-1884), an intense nationalist, wrote the six symphonic poems known collectively as Ma Vlast (My Country or My Fatherland) between 1874 and 1879, ironically, following his having a nervous breakdown and going deaf. He dedicated the cycle of works to the city of Prague, the first two movements dealing with the sights and sounds of the city.

With Hungarian conductor Antal Dorati leading the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra in Newton Classics' current reissued Philips recording, we get spirited, red-blooded accounts of all six episodes of the score, with plenty of color and characterization. The performances perhaps lack something of the subtlety and stylishness of several rival versions, like those from Neumann (Berlin Classics), Kubelik (Supraphon), Berglund (EMI), Pesek (Virgin), and Wit (Naxos), but Dorati's energy, vivaciousness, animation, and warmth more than make up for any minor concerns.

The cycle begins with Vysehrad (1874), named after the venerable castle of Bohemian kings in Prague. Under Dorati, the music sounds beautifully smooth, lyrical, and Romantic yet well sprung, too, with finely articulated tensions and releases. Dorati perfectly judges the tempos throughout this segment, even if they are a tad faster than we usually hear. Still, the conductor works up a passionate response in the process.

Next up we hear Vltava (1874), which describes the river called in German the Moldau, and uses an old Czech folk tune as its principal theme. Smetana's original program notes tell us that the music traces the countryside the river runs through: meadows, forests, even conjuring up water nymphs along the way. This is the most-famous section of the work, and conductors often play it by itself; thus, you'll find quite a few more separate recordings of Vltava (or The Moldau) than of the complete Ma Vlast, my own favorite Moldau being one recorded long ago by Leopold Stokowski, available in an RCA collection of rhapsodies. In any case, here Dorati again seems brisker than other conductors, yet his timing is actually slower than four other recordings I had on hand for comparison. It's a trick Dorati employs, seeming to be quickening the tempo when he is really slowing it.

After that we get Sarka (1875), which refers to a female warrior in Czech legend who exacts a bloody revenge on the male sex. This portion of Ma Vlast ties in with the final two sections in describing Bohemia's fierce struggle for independence. Dorati succeeds in capturing its excitement and mystery.

From Bohemia's Woods and Fields (1875) is pretty much self-explanatory. In this segment we're back to the pastoral pleasures of the countryside. Dorati is properly lilting and melodic, the music's lively ebbs and flows harking back to the conductor's handling of the Vltava section.

The second disc opens with the two concluding symphonic poems: Tabor (1878), which introduces us to a Hussite war tune (the Hussites were followers of John Huss, who initiated a nationalistic movement in Bohemia in the late fourteenth century); and Blanik (1879), the mountain where the Hussites retreated before their ultimate fight for liberation. I always think of these final portions of the cycle as the battle sequences. Like other people, I'm sure, though, I have never found these pieces as satisfying as Smetana's preceding music; it's a little long and more than a little repetitious. Nevertheless, Dorati plays up the drama for all it's worth and makes one sit up and take notice as much as or more than other interpreters have done. Perhaps only in the concluding section, Blanik, does Dorati seem a touch hesitant or tardy, but without a direct comparison to other recordings, he seems right on. Besides which, the more relaxed pace lends a greater weight and dignity to the final chapter.

The companion filler piece, the symphonic poem In Nature's Realm by Smetana's countryman, Antonin Dvorak (1841-1904), makes an appropriate choice. Dvorak wrote it as the first in a trio of independent overtures connected by a related musical theme. Dvorak's idea was to show Man in the face of Nature and how nature can affect one in a positive way if we let it into our lives. Dorati conducts it delicately yet powerfully and allows us to take pleasure in the music's sweet harmonies.

Originally recorded by Philips in 1986 and issued by them on a single CD, the 2011 reissued Newton Classics edition spreads Ma Vlast over two discs to good effect. As we might expect from a Philips recording of the Concertgebouw Orchestra, it's quite realistic, capturing the spacious hall acoustic without sacrificing too much detail or definition. The sound is wide, deep, and expansive, with fine dynamics, adequate bass and highs, and a midrange well balanced with the extremes. While the sound is not completely transparent, with a slightly reverberant overall effect, it is quite natural and welcome.

JJP

Stravinsky: L'Histoire du Soldat (HQCD review)

Also, Respighi: Rossiniana. Robert Mandell, Ars Nova (Stravinsky); Robert Zeller, Vienna State Opera Orchestra (Respighi). HDTT.

First, a word: If you are a music listener who appreciates the sound of a recording as well as the performance, or if you are an audiophile who appreciates the sound above all, you might want to audition this disc. Indeed, if you are an audiophile by virtue of the megabucks you've spent on your playback system, you'll need to get this disc, if you don't already own it. Not to have it in your collection is reason enough to turn in your audiophile badge and go back to music listening on earbuds. Sonically, this is one of the handful of best recordings I've ever heard on CD. More on the sound in a moment.

Let's talk music.  Russian-born composer Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971) wrote the music for C.F. Ramuz's parable L'Histoire du Soldat (The Soldier's Tale) in 1918. The composer meant for the theatrical work "to be read, played or danced" by a small company of performers, but it actually works best as conductor Robert Mandell and the Ars Nova ensemble play it, instrumentally without dance or dialogue. The story it tells concerns a soldier trading his fiddle to the devil for a book that can predict the future and provide him his fortune. If you know the Faust legends, you can guess where that gets him.

Stravinsky scored the work for seven players, and here the Ars Nova septet features Stanley Drucker, clarinet; Cyrus Degal, bassoon; David Jandorf, trumpet; James Thompson, trombone; Morris Lanz, percussion; Herbert Sorkin, violin; and Reuben James, double bass. The music itself is more than a tad on the jazzy, raucous, Raggedy Annie side, typical of so many "modern" compositions of the early twentieth century. However, there is an infectious forward pulse to the music and some scintillating rhythms that the Ars Nova group are quick to exploit with their own slightly raucous, Raggedy Annie jazz style.

In addition to the Stravinsky piece, which lasts a little under half an hour, we get Rossiniana by Italian composer Ottorino Respighi (1879-1936). As the title suggests, Rossiniana is an orchestral adaptation of works by Gioacchino Rossini (1792-1868), Respighi basing his four-movement suite on a number of fairly obscure Rossini piano pieces. The lushly Romantic compilation for orchestra is in stark contrast to the jazzy, small-scale Stravinsky piece. Although Rossiniana is not great music, and despite its being occasionally dark and somber, it can also be quite radiant and easy to digest; and with Robert Zeller and the Vienna State Opera Orchestra, the performance sounds smoothly polished and richly rendered.

Now, about the sound, particularly in L'Histoire du Soldat. When you listen to music recorded as well as this is, you probably don't figure its engineers recorded it over half a century ago. But HDTT transferred the music to HQCD from a 2-track Westminster Sonotape originally made in 1956. Yes, 1956. It makes a person wonder if there have been any significant advances in sound reproduction in the last fifty years, digital 5.1 this or lossless 7.1 that notwithstanding. But back in 1956 the home-stereo industry was in its infancy, and audio engineers were doing their best to capture everything the new medium had to offer. As things went on, record companies would begin cutting corners, using far more microphones, limiting the dynamic range and frequency extremes, and editing the final sound of their recordings after the fact on mixing consoles. What a joy to go back to a sound that actually approximates a live occasion in every way.

What we get in the Stravinsky piece is excellent in every way, particularly in the localization of instruments. Is it fair, though, to compare a recording of only seven instruments to one of a complete orchestra? Maybe not, but that doesn't discount the fact that the recording provides a reach-out-and-touch-it realism that is hard to resist. Every instrument is well defined, the highs extended, the bass going through the floor, the midrange as revealing as possible, with no sign of edge, distortion, or strain anywhere. However, it's the transient response that handily wins the day, and if your speakers can reproduce the notes without too much overhang, you'll hear some of the most crisply articulated sound from any disc around. All the instruments have such a sense of lifelike accuracy about them, you'll be hard pressed to tell them from the real thing. The violin tone, the trumpet, and the percussion are especially thrilling.

The Respighi/Rossini music, recorded in 1964 and transferred to disc from a Westminster 4-track tape, is likewise good, the orchestral sound refined and expansive, among the best of its kind, if not quite so drop-dead gorgeous as the Stravinsky. Defects or drawbacks in either transfer? One might notice an occasional small pop here or there and a touch of momentary pre-echo, yet they are so minor as to be practically inconsequential. The Stravinsky and the Respighi tracks reflect audio quality of the highest order, a disc for all seasons...or all listeners as the case may be.

For further information on the various formats, configurations, and prices of HDTT products, you can visit their Web site at http://www.highdeftapetransfers.com/storefront.php.

JJP

Mozart: Requiem (CD review)

Choir of New College Oxford; Edward Higginbottom, Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment. Novum NCR1383.

The key word here is "authentic."  As the program notes are quick to point out, this recording of Mozart's Requiem is unique in several ways: It uses "soloists drawn from the chorus, as in Mozart's day, including young male singers for the soprano and alto solos" (the New College Choir made up of youngsters twelve to twenty-two), and it uses a period ensemble, the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment. The result is a performance on the scale of those in Mozart's day. Although, of course, Mozart would never have heard his own Requiem, given that he left it uncompleted at his death. The version we get here is the customary one completed by Franz Xavier Sussmayr, Mozart's assistant and copyist.

Despite the use of period instruments and the determination of correct size and makeup of the choir and ensemble, Maestro Edward Higginbottom's new realization of the Requiem may or may not be entirely "authentic," since no one can go back through the centuries to hear what the earliest performances sounded like. In the instance of Higginbottom, his performance may follow all the earmarks of authentic performance practice, phrasing and tuning, but that doesn't mean that traditionalists should dismiss it. Overall, I like this new interpretation very much.

It is in the beginning of the piece, the Introitus, that Higginbottom seems most conventional and respectful. In effect, he doesn't tip his hand to the excitement to come until the succeeding segments.

Then, in the Squenz, the Dies irae is properly fiery, powerful, and wrathful, a foreshadowing of more good things to follow. Then, in the Tuba mirum, Recordare, and later Benedictus sections, where we hear the solo quartet of voices sung by children in the soprano and alto parts, the performance becomes particularly effective, the young male voices, crisply articulated, quite affecting in their innocence. Here, Higginbottom moves along a little more briskly than many other conductors in the work. Indeed, as the performance proceeds, it actually appears to pick up energy and distinguish itself from its seemingly more timid rivals.

The Offertorium movements are spirited yet always gracious and graceful, the conductor and his forces doing their utmost to present the music in a new light. Still, new light or no, the music seems fresher and more illuminating than ever. It's a revelatory new version of an old warhorse. Although it may not tickle the fancy of every Mozart fan the way it did me, I look forward to hearing it many times over.

Novum recorded the music at the Church of St. Michel and All Angels, Summertown, Oxford, England, in July of 2010. It exhibits a good sense of depth in instrumentation and voices, with a reasonably well balanced response. While there is a slightly forward quality to the upper midrange that makes voices a little brighter than I'd like, it is hardly a concern, and it may, in fact, help to clarify the vocals. All around, the sound is clear and clean, with enough ambient hall bloom to ensure realism and an appropriate perception of acoustic space.

As a footnote, I should add that Higgenbottom's extensive booklet notes on the composition of the Requiem make a fascinating and enlightening read. If you buy the disc, don't miss them. I even like the cover design.

JJP