Vishnevskaya and Rostropovich

Galina Vishnevskaya and Mstislav Rostropovich: Russian Live Recordings from the Sixties
Mussorgsky: Songs and Dances of Death (orch. Shostakovich); *Shostakovich: Seven Romances to Poems by Alexander Blok; ^Satires (Pictures of the Past); ^Prokofieff: Five Poems by Anna Akhmatova
Galina Vishnevskaya, soprano; Gorki State Philharmonic Orchestra/Mstislav Rostropovich; *David Oistrakh, Mstislav Rostropovich, Moisei Vainberg; ^Mstislav Rostropovich, piano
BMG Melodiya 74321 53247 2 | Stereo ADD

I wasn’t able to find this recording in time to post along with my previous post of recordings of Mussorgsky’s Songs and Dances of Death. Believe me, I tore up my house looking for them. But just when I wasn’t looking for it, there it was in front of my nose. Oh, well!

The 1990’s were a good time to be a Shostakovich fan. Le Chant du Monde, Russian Revelation, Russian Disc, and Melodiya (under the auspices of BMG) were showering us with all sorts of gems. I still remember with teary-eyed nostalgia the aisles at the Tower Classical store in Hollywood swelling with these discs. Sadly this surfeit of Russian treasures proved to be short lived and by 2000 had all become hard to find collector’s items. Some of these recordings have been reissued by other labels since, but never again have we had labels devoted entirely to mining the Soviet radio archives. Our loss.

In my earlier post, I had lamented that EMI’s recording of the Songs and Dances of Death found the great Russian diva, Galina Vishnevskaya, a bit past her prime. No such problem here. This recording from 1962 contains a broadcast of the world premiere of Shostakovich’s orchestration of Mussorgsky’s song cycle. Vishnevskaya’s voice gleams in top form here. It is supple and rich; her Slavic vibrato under better control. She also conveys even more dramatic fire and nuance here than on her EMI studio effort. Her ability to switch back and forth on a turn of the dime from the mother’s terrified query to death’s icy, calm response in the Lullaby is breathtaking. How she manages to swing from one emotional extreme to another and sound totally convincing is beyond me. She sounds ardent as the seducer in the Serenade and her cry of triumph at the end is truly chilling. What a fearsome specter she is in the Trepak. Vishnevskaya finds just the right tone of cloying sweetness to the siren song that Death sings to the drunken peasant. Her most fearsome singing comes in The Field Marshal. Vishnevskaya’s Death crows with delight as she surveys the mounds of corpses left on the battlefield. I’m pinned to my seat when she launches into the closing roll call of death with the line Konchana bitva! Ya vsekh pomirila! (Cease your fighting! Victory is mine!). One would think this work to be the sole domain of men like Chaliapin or Christoff, but Vishnevskaya’s singing is here is every bit the equal in terms of vocal quality, and may even surpass them in dramatic insight. Rostropovich’s Gorki Philharmonic play with more fire than with accuracy. Numerous gaffes and lapses are enough to show that this orchestra was hardly even a second or third tier ensemble. But the sense of occasion and Vishnevskaya’s powerful interpretation makes this a recording to cherish. It is interesting to note that this concert also included Shostakovich’s debut and farewell in the role of conductor. The opening part of the program on this concert included the Festival Overture and the Cello Concerto No.1 with Rostropovich. Shostakovich had received some instruction in the art from Fritz Stiedry and Vaclav Talich in his youth, but was never able to overcome his stage fright. For this concert he was coached by Rostropovich and Kondrashin and, judging from the reviews, he did OK. It would be fascinating to hear if that portion of the broadcast had been preserved.

The remainder of this disc comes from a recital in 1967 that included the world premiere of Shostakovich’s Seven Romances to Poems by Alexander Blok. Her all-star backing trio is David Oistrakh, Mstislav Rostropovich, and the composer Moisei Vainberg filling in for an indisposed Dmitri Shostakovich. Shostakovich had written the piano part with his own abilities in mind, but had fallen ill before the concert. Simply put, you will not find a better recording of these elusive, haunting songs. Vishnevskaya sings with great poise and delicateness and her trio is, needless to say, outstanding. Incidentally, during Oistrakh’s duet with Vishnevskaya in We Were Together, he was playing through very violent chest pains that seized him shortly before the song had begun. Not wanting to cause a scene and distress the composer, Oistrakh played through his part without anyone else realizing what was going on. The pain had abated by the end of the song cycle, but he quickly checked himself into a hospital as soon as the concert ended.

Shostakovich’s playful song cycle Satires has been earning some more attention these past few years. Several good recordings have been made; one in an orchestral realization by Shostakovich student Boris Tishchenko. This breezy work seems to recall the playful, carefree Shostakovich of the early 1930’s. Only the central song, Descendants, sounds more in tune with the mournful tone of his works from the 1960’s and 1970’s. Vishnevskaya sings with sparkling wit and charm and Rostropovich’s accompaniment is equally fine. These miniatures pop and fizzle like a freshly uncorked bottle of champagne.

Prokofieff brings us to a close here in the rarefied sound world of his Five Poems of Anna Akhmatova. Their hot house lyricism and harmonies, redolent of Scriabin and Debussy, makes for a nice tonic to the Shostakovich works. Why haven’t more singers recorded Prokofieff's wonderful songs?

Sound is decent in the Mussorgsky and very good in the remainder. Vishnevskaya in her prime was, as they say, something else. Listen to this CD and hear why Shostakovich was so inspired by this voice.

Mussorgsky and Shostakovich: Songs and Dances of Death, etc.

Mussorgsky: Songs and Dances of Death, The Nursery, and other selected songs

Sergei Leiferkus, baritone/Sergei Skigin, piano
Conifer Classics 75605 51229 2 | Stereo DDD

Mussorgsky: Prelude to Khovanschina (orch. Rimsky-Korsakoff), *Songs and Dances of Death (orch. Shostakovich); Shostakovich: Symphony No.15
*Sergei Aleksashkin, bass-baritone; Chicago Symphony Orchestra/Sir Georg Solti
Decca 289 458 919-2 | Stereo DDD

Mussorgsky: Songs and Dances of Death (orch. Shostakovich), and *other selected songs; Rimsky-Korsakoff, Tchaikovsky: selected arias and *songs
Galina Vishnevskaya; London Philharmonic Orchestra/Mstislav Rostropovich; *Mstislav Rostropovich, piano
EMI Great Recordings of the Century 5 62654 2 | Stereo ADD

It can be argued that even more than love--whether carnal or spiritual--death has been the number one source of inspiration for many of the works of the great composers. Happily, much of the music it has inspired is far from dour. However grim and dark it gets, it often is thrilling and, in the greatest works, can even impart in the listener a glimpse of understanding of the greater meaning of life. Just think of Tchaikovsky’s Sixth Symphony, Beethoven’s late quartets, Schumann’s spectral late works, Mahler’s symphonies, Saint-Saens Danse macabre, the phantasmagorical Symphonie Fantastique of Berlioz, just to name a handful of the great death haunted works in the musical literature. In the hands of some composers, death is portrayed with all the glitz and glamour of a Hollywood blockbuster; a spellbinding performance of a death scene for an appreciative audience. Others view death in very idealized terms. A final release and that sort of thing. Of the many composers that have dealt with this morbid subject, only a very few have dealt with it in an honest, matter-of-fact way. Death as neither cruel nor blissful. To us it is strange and terrible, but it is not any of those things in itself. It simply is. Mussorgsky, in his quest to bring realism to music, took such a look at death. Eerie and seductive; violent and horrifying. But however it comes, it simply comes, whether we want to or not.

The lyrics by Mussorgsky’s friend and one-time roommate, Arseni Golenishchev-Kutuzov inspired what may very well be Mussorgsky’s masterpiece in the genre of the song cycle, the Songs and Dances of Death. Here death comes to a sickly infant, a suicidal young girl, a drunk on his way home from carousing, and soldiers on the battlefield. The four songs make a perfect cycle, though Mussorgsky had wanted to add a few more songs to the set. He had also wanted to orchestrate the cycle, but never got around to it. Soon after Mussorgsky’s death, Rimsky-Korsakoff and Glazunov orchestrated the cycle, but also ironed out what they considered rough hewn imperfections in their colleague’s work. If recordings are any judge, it would seem that this orchestration never quite caught on as much as the piano original. It wasn’t until Shostakovich’s 1962 orchestration for Galina Vishnevskaya that a an orchestral realization of this work won wide favor. Shostakovich's orchestration of Mussorgsky's work served to inspire him to write his Fourteenth Symphony a few years later. There has also been a recent orchestration by Kalevi Aho, but I have yet to hear that.

The music on the three discs being offered share in common, aside from an affinity for death, the inclusion of Mussorgsky’s song cycle. Sergei Leiferkus’ disc, his first volume in a four disc set of Mussorgsky’s songs, is a splendid album. His Songs and Dances of Death is sung superbly. His smooth baritone captures the mood of each song. His death as seducer in the Serenade is particularly good. In the rest of the recital, I sometimes wish for just a little more grit. His interpretation of the He-Goat, for example, is a bit flat and misses the pointed humor of this song. Darling Savishna is also much too smooth. This is, after all, the desperate plea from the town idiot. But it really is hard to resist Leiferkus’ smooth as silk voice. Semyon Skigin’s accompaniment is excellent and fits Leiferkus snugly.

Next is a Decca album where Mussorgsky is paired with Shostakovich. This album is death haunted not only by the shared mood and inspiration of the music on it, but also by the fact that the conductor of this recording, Sir Georg Solti, would die himself soon after this concert was taped. This was his last Chicago concert. I remember tuning into what was then KKGO back when I was a kid to hear this concert on a Chicago Symphony broadcast. It was a fine concert and I was very happy to see it released on CD two years later. Sergei Aleksashkin’s voice is more stentorian than Leiferkus. Not a bad thing at all, especially in The Field Marshal, where death’s roll call marches on with grim power. Solti’s recording of Shostakovich’s Fifteenth Symphony is one of the best. The CSO play mightily here as is expected. This is a lean, no-nonsense affair. You won’t find the depth and spirituality of Sanderling or the manic energy of Jarvi, to name but two other great conductors of this symphony. But this is a very fine recording of this very creepy work. Perhaps Shostakovich’s darkest, even more so than the Fourteenth Symphony.

Finally we have a recording with the woman who inspired Shostakovich’s orchestration of Mussorgsky’s song cycle, Galina Vishnevskaya. This is a good recording, but it really does capture the great Russian diva just a little bit past her prime. There is a hootiness and scratchiness in her top notes at times and some wild vibrato. Nonetheless she sings with great conviction and fervor. No wonder they called her the “female Chaliapin”. The disc is rounded out with her interpretations of various songs and arias by Rimsky-Korsakoff and Tchaikovsky. She sounds in better form there. Rostropovich and his London Philharmonic play wonderfully, though I wish they weren’t so reticent. This music needs an extra passion and vigor that eludes the gentlemanly LPO. Rostropovich also does an outstanding turn as his wife’s piano accompanist. Surprised? Aside from being the last century’s greatest cellist, he also was a formidable pianist. In fact, he had originally wanted to pursue that vocation, but he ended going the way of the cello. How lucky we are that he did.

There you have it then. Death haunted works in deathless recordings. Enjoy.

(You can find the texts and transliterations for Mussorgsky's song cycle here.)

Ormandy conducts Berlioz, Dukas, and Mussorgsky

Berlioz: Symphonie Fantastique; Dukas: The Sorcerer’s Apprentice; Mussorgsky: Night on Bald Mountain (arr. Rimsky-Korsakoff)
Philadelphia Orchestra/Eugene Ormandy
Sony Essential Classics SBK 89833 | Stereo ADD

What a surprise! I’ve long been a fan of Eugene Ormandy’s work, but even I wasn’t expecting this recording to be so good. Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique is one of those great masterworks that only a few conductors are able to convincingly pull off. Strange this because the score gives ample opportunity for the conductor to strut his stuff and pull out all the stops. But few ever take up Berlioz’s challenge. I really wasn’t expecting Ormandy to bowl me over with dramatic strength--but that’s exactly what you hear in this recording.

To be sure, Ormandy is no arch romantic. He’s no Mengelberg or Golovanov. But excitement and ardor abound here from beginning to end. In the first movement, Ormandy and his orchestra shape the initial appearance of the idee fixe beautifully, shot through with youthful anxiety and longing. The second movement’s waltz is not the nightmarish vision of Klemperer or Szenkar--a vision of the outsider looking in. Rather, here the hero is himself dancing along, twirling away, hoping to lose himself from the memory of his beloved through the intoxicating rhythms of the dance. Lovely English horn and oboe set the stage for a luminous Scene in the Country that for once seems all too brief. But the biggest surprises of all are the last two movements. A crackling, goosestep of a March to the Scaffold played to the very hilt. The Philadelphia brass play gloriously here. This really must have been one of the all time greatest brass sections ever. They sound powerful and majestic here, but they’ll never assault your ears like the Chicago brass could. Was this orchestra ever capable of making an ugly sound? The Dream of a Sabbath Night brings everything to a stunning close. Not only thrilling is Ormandy’s vision of this music. Equally thrilling is the chance to hear this orchestra--one of the very greatest--tearing into this music with heady abandon.

The rest of this disc is very fine too. Dukas’ The Sorcerer’s Apprentice is the perfect showpiece for Ormandy’s Philadelphians. Ormandy, quite a sorcerer himself, conjures up magical playing from his orchestra. Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain is very good, but here I would prefer Abbado or the spooky orchestral pyrotechnics of Stokowski.

In this recording Columbia afforded Ormandy some of the best sonics it ever produced. Beautiful and lush sound complement the orchestra perfectly. Only the Mussorgsky sounds a little distant and diffuse.

If you haven’t gotten the hint yet, run, don’t walk to get this recording. Here is a recording of the Fantastique that deserves space next to Szenkar, Klemperer, Walter, Meyrowitz, and Mitropoulos.