Turning Points

Recorded in: Moscow

TCHAIKOVSKY Swan Lake • Neeme Järvi, cond; James Ehnes (vn); Bergen PO • CHANDOS 5124(2) (2 SACDs: 154:41)

As has been noted in previous reviews of recordings of Tchaikovsky’s “complete” Swan Lake , there may well be as many different versions of the score as there have been productions of it. The problem is that Swan Lake is both the earliest (1875–1876) and the longest of the composer’s three great ballets, and it has had so many cooks adding their own ingredients, removing others, and generally revising the recipe that no one can say for sure what made up the original soufflé.

The generally known and accepted facts are these: The ballet, with original choreography by Julius Reisinger, was staged for the first time in February, 1877 by the Bolshoi Ballet at Moscow’s Bolshoi Theater. It was not well received; audience and critics alike felt it was too long and convoluted, its music too heavy, and its libretto, adapted from a story by a German author, an affront to Russian sensibilities. And thus began the tinkering and tampering. By the time the work was revived in 1895 by the Imperial Ballet at St. Petersburg’s Mariinsky Theater there was new choreography by Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov, along with major musical revisions to the score by the Imperial Theater’s conductor and composer, Riccardo Drigo. It should be noted that by the time of the 1895 revival, Tchaikovsky was dead and had no hand in the new performing version. Tchaikovsky and Drigo had worked together previously, but according to accounts, they didn’t agree on much of anything and their relationship was strained.

The upshot of all this is that there is no definitive Swan Lake . It was no longer a ballet by one composer, but rather a group effort; and you know the saying about a camel being a horse designed by a committee. It’s important to bear this in mind when considering the various recordings of Swan Lake that claim to be complete, for the drastic differences in timings cannot be explained by mere tempo differences alone. There have to be other factors involved, such as omission of some movements, cuts to others, and/or reliance on differing versions/editions. Let’s look at the timings of several well-known recordings, sorted in order by duration.

Conductor	Orchestra	Label	Timing
Valery Gergiev	St. Petersburg Mariinsky O	Decca	106.59
Antál Dorati	Minneapolis SO	Mercury	131:41
Felix Slatkin	St. Louis SO	RCA	141:00
Mikhail Pletnev	Russian National O	Ondine	142.52
Dmitri Yablonsky	Russian State SO	Naxos	148:38
Michael Tilson Thomas	London SO	Sony	149:05
Mark Ermler	Royal Opera House O	Conifer	153.03
André Previn	London SO	EMI	153:02
Charles Dutoit	Montréal SO	Decca	153:56
Neeme Järvi	Bergen PO	Chandos	154:41
Wolfgang Sawallisch	Philadelphia O	EMI	158:45

Right off the bat, I need to offer a disclaimer: My personal familiarity with the above-listed recordings is limited to only four of them—Gergiev, Pletnev, Yablonsky, and now this new one by Järvi. Of the four, Gergiev’s version is the worst in terms of the hatchet job it does on the score. Movements are reordered—for example, the act I Waltz has been moved to act III and its ending abridged—and it’s full of egregious cuts—some 40 minutes of music are sacrificed. Gergiev’s Swan Lake is presumptively based on the Mariinsky performing version; i.e., the above-mentioned Drigo edition prepared for the 1895 St. Petersburg revival.

Looking at Pletnev’s timing of 142:52 vs. Yablonsky’s 148:58 and Järvi’s 154:41, it seems pretty obvious that that while tempo differences over the course of two and a half hours could account for the difference of approximately six minutes between Pletnev and Yablonsky and, in turn, between Yablonsky and Järvi, they’re unlikely to be the cause of the approximately 12-minute difference between Pletnev and Järvi.

Upon closer examination of all three recordings, what I found was that Yablonsky and Järvi both include two often dropped numbers from act III, the Pas de deux that was written after the fact specifically for Anna Sobeshchanskaya, and the “Danse Russe,” added specifically for Pelageya Karpakova. Pletnev omits these two additions, as do a number of others. Whether they should be included or not is a rather complex question.

Ballerinas of the day were not much different from their opera diva counterparts in terms of their egos. They had no shame when it came to demanding custom cadenzas to show off their voices or, in the case of danseuses, their fancy footwork and frilly tutus. The story surrounding Sobeshchanskaya and her Pas de deux is especially messy and borders on scandal. Originally picked to dance the lead role of Odette (the Swan) for the 1877 premiere, Sobeshchanskaya was ignominiously dropped from the cast at the last minute when a high-placed government official with whom she’d had a dalliance accused her of having taken expensive jewelry from him and then pawned it when she married a fellow danseur. On the spur of the moment, she was replaced by Pelageya Karpakova. Sobeshchanskaya survived the indignity and went on to dance the title role when the ballet was staged again a month later with no greater success than at its premiere.

But the intrigue didn’t end there. The ballerina made no bones about the fact that she hated both the choreography and the music, and so off she went to St. Petersburg, where she engaged Petipa to choreograph a new Pas de deux for her that would replace the third act’s Grand pas. Petipa complied and choreographed the new number to music, not by Tchaikovsky, but by Ludwig Minkus, the Imperial Ballet’s composer in residence.

When news of this change reached Tchaikovsky, he was miffed; his ego was probably bigger than Sobeshchanskaya’s. How dare she?! He was the composer, and he alone should take credit (or discredit) for the music. After some smoothing of his ruffled feathers, Tchaikovsky agreed to compose the music himself for Petipa’s new Pas de deux , but there was a problem. Tchaikovsky’s new music didn’t synch up with Petipa’s choreography, and Sobeshchanskaya, now back in Moscow, wasn’t about to travel back to St. Petersburg to go through the whole exercise again. She didn’t seem to care much one way or the other about the music, but she was adamant about keeping Petipa’s choreographed number. How exactly Tchaikovsky was prevailed upon to discard his newly composed music and essentially start over, this time following the outlines and rhythmic steps of Minkus’s music is not explained, but that’s what Tchaikovsky did. So, this particular episode apparently had a satisfactory ending for all involved, except, I suspect, for Minkus who surely must have felt put out. The original Grand pas with music by Tchaikovsky was replaced by Sobeshchanskaya’s Pas de deux with music first by Minkus and then by Tchaikovsky.

Based on the foregoing, it would seem that there is every reason to include this number in complete performances of the ballet, yet many conductors, Pletnev among them, don’t. The situation regarding the “Danse Russe” (Russian Dance) is much simpler and appears to be the reverse; it’s one of deletion rather than addition. It was composed for and included in the original 1877 version of the score danced by Karpakova, the premiere’s last-minute substitute for Sobeshchanskaya. The number was then removed for subsequent performances in which Sobeshchanskaya took over the role, for reasons one can easily guess. If two competing sopranos could bitch-slap each other on stage during a production of a Handel opera, there was no telling what professional jealousy might provoke between two rival ballerinas.

This describes only some of the butchery that turned Tchaikovsky’s finely feathered swan into a plucked chicken. It’s well to remember, however, that Swan Lake was not only the composer’s first completed ballet, it was really his first major stage undertaking to survive the ravages of time, even if not entirely intact. He was working on his opera Eugene Onegin at the same time, his first opera to achieve success; and though there had been earlier operatic efforts— The Voyevoda, Undina, The Oprichnik , and Vakula the Smith —they were either destroyed by the composer, recycled, later revised, or didn’t stir much interest at the time. Thus, at 37, Tchaikovsky’s greatest works still lay ahead of him, and he had yet to achieve the self-confidence that fame would bring him to be able to just say no to those who would mess with his music.

Neeme Järvi’s Swan Lake follows his Sleeping Beauty , reviewed in 36:5. I would expect to see a Nutcracker in the near future, perhaps timed to coincide with Christmas (I’m writing this in November 2013). My only objection to Järvi’s Sleeping Beauty was his somewhat business-like approach, which struck me as missing some of the music’s fairy magic. But the Bergen Philharmonic’s polished playing, James Ehnes’s ravishing violin solos, and Chandos’s thrilling multi-channel SACD recording offered much allure.

On relistening to that release, and in listening to this present one, in which Järvi, Ehnes, the Bergen orchestra, and Chandos repeat their earlier accomplishment, it occurred to me that my criticism of Järvi wasn’t entirely fair. There are two ways to conduct a ballet performance for a strictly audio recording. You can approach it as a concert work, in which case you will tend to emphasize the melodic, harmonic, and structural elements of the score, or you can approach it as a suite of dances, in which case you will emphasize the music’s rhythmic and terpsichorean aspects. Järvi falls into the former camp, and there’s nothing wrong in that, as long as he’s not directing a live production of the actual ballet, in which tempo, pacing, and phrasing need to be molded more flexibly to accommodate the movements of the dancers.

I can’t say absolutely that this is the most authoritatively complete Swan Lake on record, though in taking up the original 1877 score and including additional material supplied by Tchaikovsky himself for subsequent performances, Järvi gives us a version that’s certainly more complete than are a number of others. What I can say is that of the four recordings of the score with which I’m familiar, Järvi’s would now be my first choice, and taking all other factors into account—superb playing by the Bergen Philharmonic, James Ehnes’s beguiling solo violin contributions, and a killer recording—I’d extrapolate from this that Järvi’s Swan Lake is now the one to have.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

TCHAIKOVSKY: SYMPHONY NO 5, SE

TCHAIKOVSKY: SYMPHONY NO 6, ET

LEONARD BERNSTEIN: THE ENCORE

TCHAIKOVSKY: ARIAS GHENA DIMI

Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 1 & The Nutcracker Suite

As sparkling and invigorating a Swan Lake as anyone could wish, with the LSO in top form throughout and clearly enjoying themselves.

...The new recording from Michael Tilson Thomas doesn't include the added Prince Siegfried/Odile pas de deux..., but it has everything else in its favour and is fitted comfortably on to a pair of CDs. The break, however, comes in the middle of the "Danses des cygnes" divertissement, about seven minutes before the end of Act 2. The recording, made in Watford Town Hall, is first class in every way; full and vivid, nicely balanced with a fine concert-hall effect, and certainly spectacular in the climactic moments, which Tilson Thomas clearly relishes (and so do the brass and percussion, which are placed in convincing perspective). Without losing the rhythmic ballet feel, Tilson Thomas treats the score slightly more freely than the other conductors..., the ebb and flow of phrasing and tempo less determined by the demands of the theatre, more by the way he feels the music's natural flux. This is immediately demonstrated in the Introduction to Act I, with its opening languor, followed by a fairly swift accelerando to the climax and enormous energy from the strings in the Allegro giusto which opens the act. Indeed, the lively numbers (the motto vivace coda of the Act 1 pas de deux, for instance) are as sparkling and invigorating as anyone could wish.

The LSO are on top form throughout and clearly enjoying themselves. The string phrasing is warm and polished and the two string soloists, Alexander Barantschik (violin) and Douglas Cummings (cello) are splendid... [T]the LSO wind soloists offer much to seduce the ear and continually demonstrate the composer's wonderfully imaginative orchestral palette. -- Gramophone [4/1992]

This recording is no longer available on cassette.
Del Sony num cat 4/98

The excitement and passion Bernstein brought to Tchaikovsky is well known, but what strikes me even more forcibly on rehearing [this interpretation] is [the] intelligence and thoughtfulness... [W]itness the clarity of the canonic exchanges between lower strings and woodwinds in Romeo and Juliet's initial fight sequence... The New York Philharmonic also gives the conductor 100 percent effort. Ensemble isn't always perfectly tidy (note the occasionally slightly "off" cymbal crash in Romeo), but when Bernstein drives the players hard..., they respond with extreme bravura.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com [reviewing Romeo and Juliet, reissued as part of Sony 93076]

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Among Tchaikovsky's symphonies the Polish too often appears as the charmless one. I have long been hoping for a new version which would present the music with balletic flair, with a Beechamesque swagger. After Bernstein's disappointingly brutal account of the Little Russian last December (CBS 73047) I was not counting too much on this issue, but in fact far more than the two versions listed above Bernstein does give the music charm, disguises the rather square structure and encourages resilient rhythms. Bernstein is at his best in the first movement. Some may feel that after the superb panache of the first subject Bernstein relaxes too much for the second, which after all is marked merely pow meno mosso. But more than his rivals Bernstein relates this music to the Tchaikovsky ballets. That oboe melody is pure Swan Lake (a work contemporary with this), and so is the 'little swans' music of the trotting bassoon a couple of pages later. There are also hints of The Nutcracker in the delicate string scoring as the climax of the exposition is reached... Arguably Bernstein is too gentle in the second movement Alla tedesca, which is far slower than usual with a gentle flexibility which allows such moments as the reprise after the central triplet-based Trio to emerge with delightful delicacy. When for the coda Bernstein slows unashamedly, I personally am convinced by this approach, but anyone who prefers a straight approach to Tchaikovsky might object.

The remaining three movements are not given quite such a distinctive reading, but they are never less than persuasive. Bernstein again opts openly for dual speeds in the slow movement (for that matter so does Maazel) and though the opening tempo is slow for Andante elegiac° it is perfectly apt for the introductory idea with its hints of lazy fanfares in the distance. The surprisingly Elgarian second idea then comes in at a genuine Andante. The scherzo brings some splendid woodwind playing (the oboe here and elsewhere outstandingly good), and the tempo allows clean definition, which is more than one can say for the HMV Russian version. The finale again has plenty of space round it, a genuine tempo di polacca. The relaxed tempo means that the contrapuntal development which immediately follows the first theme runs the risk of sagging (Maazel is altogether faster, which makes things easier). The principal theme returns with splendid swagger after a very delicate conclusion to the central episode, and the patriotic theme returns with no apology, only just skirting the cliff-edge of vulgarity.

-- Gramophone [9/1973, reviewing the LP release of the Third Symphony]

TCHAIKOVSKY, RACHMANINOV: PIAN

Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 5 in E Minor, Op. 64 & The Voyevod

Ormandy returns with the Philadelphia Orchestra to provide a sumptuous offering of nearly an hour of music from Tchaikovsky's The Sleeping Beauty ballet that features many favourites (including mine, the "Panorama", taken fairly briskly yet retaining its elegant magic). The playing is exciting and the resonant acoustic brings warmth and sonic spectacle, but rather less in the way of subtlety: it is typical of the Philadelphia/ CBS recordings of the 1960s, but it's certainly very involving. The coupling is a similarly vivacious suite from the Rossini/Respighi La boutique fantasque, a scintillating score to which Ormandy does justice. Thanks to him one immediately notices the sparkling percussion condiment in the "Tarantella". Once more, good sound; resonant and spectacular, but not quite so opulent as in the Tchaikovsky selection. This is worth any collector's money.

-- Gramophone [3/1991]

Gilels's playing is leonine and fiery, and his virtuosity is never less than imposing. There is much poetry, too...

-- Gramophone [6/1983]
reviewing the first CD release of the Gilels/Mehta Piano Concerto, CBS 36660


David Oistrakh plays...with the total skill and musicianship which seem as rewarding today as they did 20 years ago... [T]he Philadelphia strings are both very strong and very impressive.

-- Gramophone [12/1982]
reviewing an LP release of the Oistrakh/Ormandy Violin Conceto, CBS 60312