JARMILA NOVOTNÁ OPERA RECITAL • Jarmila Novotná (s); Ezio Pinza (bs); 3 Raoul Jobin (t); 5 Jan Peerce (t); 7 James Melton (t); 9 Martial Singher (bar); 11 Arturo Toscanini 1 , Paul Breisach 2 , Bruno Walter 3 , Frieder Weissmann 4 , Thomas Beecham 5 , Morton Gould 6 , Ettore Panizza 7 , Maurice Abravanel 8 , Frank Black 9 , Alfred Wallenstein 10 , Donald Voorhees 11 , Wilfred Pelletier 12 , cond; Gibner King (pn); 13 Vienna PO; 1 Metropolitan Op O; 14 Victor O; 4 Bell Telephone O 11 • SUPRAPHON 4158, mono (79:02) Live, film, and studio performances 1930–1956


ROSSINI Il barbiere di Siviglia: Una voce poco fà (in Czech). MOZART 1 Die Zauberflöte: Ach, ich fühls. 2,14 Le nozze di Figaro: Non so più; Voi che sapete. 3,14 Don Giovanni: Ah, che mi dice mai; Fuggi il traditor. OFFENBACH Les contes d’Hoffmann: Les oiseaux dans la charmille (in German); 4 Belle nuit,ô nuit d’amour; 4 Elle a fui; 5,14 Voyez l’étrange fantasie … C’est un chanson d’amour. VERDI La traviata: 6 Tra voi; 7,14 Ah, fors’ è lui … Sempre libera; 8 Addio del passato; 9 Parigi, o cara. PUCCINI La bohème: 10 Si mi chiamano Mimi; 11 Mimi! Speravo di trovarvi qui. 12,14 Tosca: Vissi d’arte. SMETANA 10 The Bartered Bride: Ten lásky sen. 4 The Kiss: Hajej, m?j andílku. 13 Rusalka: O lovely moon


Despite a long, distinguished career of 30 years, 16 of them at the Metropolitan Opera, Jarmila Novotná is known largely to record collectors and students of archive performances. Her one and only intersection with popular culture was an appearance in the M-G-M film The Great Caruso (1951), whose big star was tenor Mario Lanza. In Germany, where she appeared for several years and made some fairly popular films ( Fire in the Opera, The Beggar Student, The Bartered Bride, Song of the Lark ), she is perhaps better known, and in her native (now former) Czechoslovakia she is considered to be on a par with Emmy Destinn and Maria Jeritza. In her early years, when she was a high soubrette, the voice was ear-ravishing lovely, even sparkling in sound, but by 1937 her tone was becoming a bit heavier and her upper range less easy; thus, by the time she made her Met debut (January 5, 1940, in La bohème opposite Jussi Björling), the voice had become darker. But she was an excellent stage actress, an outstanding musician (she had already sung such offbeat works as Ravel’s L’heure espagnole, at Otto Klemperer’s Kroll Opera, as well as Krenek’s The Life of Orestes, and Schoenberg’s Die glückliche Hand ) and a fine stage actress. She was a favorite soprano of such conductors as Zemlinsky, Erich Kleiber, Walter, Szell, and Toscanini.


One thing you can’t miss from the opening track—Rossini’s “Una voce poco fà” sung in Czech—was that she sang with her high range too “open,” much the same way Bidú Sayão did in her “coloratura” years, and with similar results; both had to come down to the lyric range because they blew it out. You can hear the difference immediately after the Rossini aria, in her the “Ach, ich fühls” from Die Zauberflöte in Toscanini’s ill-fated Salzburg performance (ill-fated due to the overloud singing of his Tamino, Helge Rosawenge, and the botched, out-of-key performance of the Queen of the Night, Julie Osvath). Yet you can also hear her phrasing becoming tighter and more musical, less scatter-gun in her approach to producing notes. To modern ears, more used to mezzo Cherubinos, Novotná sounds rather light and very girlish (even Christine Schäfer, one of our few soprano Cherubinos nowadays, sings the music with a darker tone than this), but once again she is very fine, particularly in “Voi, che sapete.” Despite a slightly slower tempo than we are used to today, this performance could pass muster in our modern opera houses. But one does sense a loss from her earlier voice with its bright, open tone: The sound, now slightly covered, is no longer as distinctive. In Donna Elvira’s “Ah, che mi dice mai,” the voice no longer has any “bite” up top, despite splendid singing (and Bruno Walter’s tempo is much too fast for this music), but both soprano and conductor sound better in “Fuggi il traditor.”


The three excerpts from Les contes d’Hoffmann point out the differences well: the very early (1930) “Doll song” in German sung with light, pointed tone (and good trills), the “Barcarolle” and “Elle a fui” (now in French, from 1945) sounding more covered and bit muddy in tone, as is the 1944 duet with Jobin (a rather plain, ugly-sounding vocalist who was the Met’s preferred French tenor of the 1940s). By this point in her career, Novotná was also breaking her phrases a bit more frequently for breath than she had just a few years earlier.


The four Traviata excerpts, ranging in date from 1940 (“Addio del passato”) to 1950 (“Parigi, o cara”) are interesting in showing how Novotná built a character up throughout an opera. She was not the equal of an Olivero or Mattila, but in some moments she was interesting in a general way. In “Ah, fors’ e lui” she sings the descending opening line with the rests between the notes, the way Verdi wrote them, but after the tenor’s lines in “Sempre libera” she makes a mistake, correcting herself quickly. There is, however, no feeling in her “Addio del passato,” which is also conducted much too quickly by Abravanel. The voice is so dark by the time of her 1950 “Parigi, o cara” that it is almost unrecognizable as the same singer, and there is no feeling of loss or desperation in her voice. She might as well have been singing about her missing dog. (To be fair, however, her partner in this duet, James Melton, sings with no expression whatever.) There is a bit of expression in her “Si, mi chiamano Mimì” from 1943, but again, it’s just a sort of “generic Puccini sound,” nothing particularly personal in her tone or expression. The Mimì-Marcello duet with Singher (a rather gray-sounding and uninteresting baritone who was the Met’s French baritone counterpart to Jobin) shows, once again, Novotná’s generic, all-purpose acting style.


Although Novotná does not give out any more emotionally in the Czech operatic excerpts, the voice does sound more comfortable than in Italian or French. Hers is one of the better performances I’ve heard of the Bartered Bride aria, and the best I’ve heard of the aria from The Kiss. But I still have to rate Elfride Trötschel, Zinka Milanov, and Renée Fleming better in “O lovely moon” from Rusalka. (Novotná’s performance is also cut, missing one section.)


All in all this is an interesting cross-section of performances by a now-neglected soprano, though I’d much rather have had one of her excerpts from the German Bartered Bride film in place of the Tosca aria.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

Launching his Mozart debut recorded with the Czech Philharmonic and Jir� Belohl�vek, Jan Barto� drew to himself a lot of critical attention on an international scale. Those who reviewed the album especially appreciated his rare ability to combine thorough understanding both of the musical architecture and the deep emotionality of the works (a quality possessed also by the pianist's tutors Ivan Moravec and Alfred Brendel). From the early "Haydn-like" Sonata No. 3 in C major to the highly dramatic "Appassionata" to the transcendent last Sonata No. 32 in C minor, which gives an impression of the composer parting with this world, the pianist facilitates to us the amazing integrity and colorfulness of Beethoven's piano work. During the thirty years separating his first and last piano opus, the composer tried out numberless experiments, and yet some crucial themes come up again and again; the imprint of his unique musical DNA is discernible from his very first opuses. In the hands of Jan Barto�, Beethoven whispers, sings and thunders. We encounter a world full of contrasts, an image whose colors remain impressed in our memory for a long time.

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This splendid disc was originally released on the Panton label, but happily reappears here on Supraphon. The fact that the conductorless Prague Chamber Orchestra can play this rhythmically tricky music with such confidence bespeaks long familiarity with Martinu's personal idiom. These are, one and all, fabulous pieces, particularly the Toccata e due canzone, a masterwork if ever there was one, and a much darker and more emotionally draining essay than the neo-baroque title might suggest.

Here's the bottom line: these are simply the finest versions of all three works. Tempos are lively, balances true, those long, syncopated, lyrical cantilenas in the first movements of the Tocatta and Sinfonietta soar as if self-propelled. No detail of Martinu's ceaselessly inventive orchestration passes unobserved, and his busy rhythms and obsessive ostinatos never turn mechanical (a potential issue in the Concerto Grosso especially). As usual, the Czech woodwinds (oboes especially) are a joy, and pianist Josef Hála plays delightfully in all three pieces. Excellent sonics offer an ideal combination of warmth and clarity. It doesn't get any better than this.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

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Hunting cannot be thought about in isolation from the sounds accompanying it – the barking of dogs, the shrieks of frightened quarry, the shots, and the sound of horns and trumpets. Signal instruments and the atmosphere of chase gave rise to the special genre of “hunting music”. The quintessential hunting-related instrument is the French horn, which became widely used in Bohemia after 1760, owing to Count Franz Anton von Sporck. Yet hunting music, for a variety of ensembles (including the wind Harmonie), was also played at feasts and other social events. Hunting-themed pieces - cassations, serenades, partitas (many of them termed caccia or la chasse) - indicated their connection with hunting by the selection of instruments, the typical harmonies and melodies, as well as by featuring onomatopoeic effects, such as the sounds of animals and birds, and sonic renditions of buoyant merry-making in the wake of the hunting expedition. The music featured on the present album was written by three Czech representatives of high Classicism. Jirí Družecký and Jan Nepomuk Vent composed numerous popular pieces for wind instruments. Pavel Vranický, a friend of Haydn and Beethoven, who both chose him to conduct their works, was a distinguished theatre figure in Vienna.

An artist with a penchant for seeking out the new, Radek Baborak has joined forces with other outstanding musicians so as to interpret the pieces as arranged for horn and string quartet. "I liked the idea of presenting the concertos in the form they may have been heard when Mr. Leutgeb would visit the Mozart's home, get together with Mr. Michael Haydn and Mr. Sussmayr, and make music."

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There are few countries that can match Russia in terms of having produced as many outstanding musicians, especially pianists; Tatiana Nikolayeva was one member of what has become known as the Russian Piano School which along with her includes Sviatoslav Richter, Emil Gilels and many others and that tradition continues right down to today’s representatives with no apparent sign of any let up, thank goodness! Raw talent coupled with a dedicated singl- minded sense of purpose drove these artists to dominate the very pinnacle of peerless pianism. In 1951, aged 27, Tatiana Nikolayeva visited Prague and made the earliest of these recordings, several of which appear on CD for the first time. She had already caused a considerable stir in Czechoslovakia’s capital on previous visits, which included her first in 1947 when she came second at a competition organised as part of the First World Festival of Youth and Students. That was the same year she completed her conservatory studies when she astounded her examiners by including all 48 of Bach’s preludes and fugues from his Well Tempered-Clavier for her final performance test. In Leipzig in July 1950 during that town’s Bachfest, organised to mark the 200th anniversary of Bach’s death that work became a turning point in her career as she offered the judges the opportunity to call for her to play whichever they asked for on the spot; on the jury that awarded her first prize was none other than Dmitry Shostakovich! At the festival’s closing concert when Bach’s concerto for three pianos was to be performed Maria Yudina (1899-1970), who was to have been at the second piano, had injured a finger and couldn’t play so her place was taken by Shostakovich, himself an outstanding pianist, and from that moment on Nikolayeva’s acquaintance with the composer developed into a friendship that would last right up until Shostakovich’s death in 1975. It is a measure of Shostakovich’s respect and admiration for Tatiana Nikolayeva that he not only dedicated his cycle of 24 preludes and fugues to her but consulted with her over them, including many of her suggestions and observations in the work and, of course, it was she that gave its première in Leningrad in December 1952.

It was fascinating to read in the booklet that she had such a phenomenal memory that she never took any sheet music with her on tours, relying instead on that memory for her performances. The digital mastering from the original tapes by Jan Lži?a? has done wonders with the inevitable clicks and pops one might expect from these recordings, some of which were made over 65 years ago, though obviously the solo works come off best as the orchestral sound betrays its age more readily. That said her playing in the Rachmaninov piano concerto is as convincing as any I have ever heard despite the (to my ears) rather sluggish orchestral accompaniment. Her playing comes over as completely natural, without the least suggestion of artifice. The first of the solo works is Prokofiev’s 3rd piano sonata ‘From old notebooks’ and despite the rather brittle sound caused, I think, by a little too much treble, it is a solid performance that demonstrates her capacity for bringing out the contrast between the stormy and the subtle. Next come three pieces by Nikolayeva herself revealing a less well-known or appreciated side of her, that of composer. Her Three concert etudes, op13 show a real talent; how much music she wrote I must confess I don’t know but on the evidence here what she did compose is clearly worth exploring. It shows the influence of Prokofiev with complex rhythms and dense textures as opposed to the lighter and more romantic touch of Rachmaninov.

Opening disc 2, we are treated to three of the Shostakovich 24 Preludes and fugues which, as mentioned above, were dedicated to her and for which she was closely consulted. You would expect Shostakovich to know what he was doing with his dedication and consultations and her performance shows how well-founded his opinion was as she plays the pieces as naturally as if they were her own. In an interview she characterised the 15th prelude and fugue in D flat major as “...so fierce and lively, like a whirlpool. And in that quiet forest, (in Ruza outside Moscow at an artists’ retreat) when I heard that stormy whirlpool I went into wild rapture”. That certainly comes over in her playing. Conductor Kurt Sanderling told Tatiana that in his opinion the preludes and fugues were Shostakovich’s intimate diary and when she objected “Why not his string quartets and symphonies”, he replied no, this work for it is “an intimate diary of Shostakovich, kept for himself, that brings happiness to all of us”. How true Sanderling’s observation was and how wonderful to listen to these works with that thought in mind.

She then turns to Bach, her great love and for which playing she is rightly renowned. First up is the Fantasia in C minor, BWV 816 and her luminous playing is revealed to its highest degree, and shines through despite the sound appearing to be a little distant. Even better is her earlier recording of Bach’s French Suite no.5 in G major, BWV 816. This is a remarkable recording in terms of playing and sound which belies its age of 66 years. She plays these again as if she owned them; just listen to the Courante and its following Sarabande and marvel at the contrast she creates, injecting excitement and refinement in equal degrees and after the gentleness of the Sarabande the Gavotte and Bourrée revert to the thrill of a headlong race as notes tumble out in a great rush; utterly thrilling. Altogether a fabulous 15 ½ minutes of pianistic brilliance finishing with a breathtakingly fast Gigue.

Closing the two-disc set is another marvellous example of Nikolayeva’s technical skills, which were coupled with an innate sensitivity: her 1952 recording of Bach’s Chromatic fantasia & fugue in D minor, BWV 903 which, along with the Prokofiev, her own concert etudes, the Shostakovich and the Bach fantasia, is the first time the recording has appeared on CD. It is further proof that she was one of the greatest ever interpreters of Bach’s keyboard works. It is not enough simply to love them since all pianists who include them in their repertoire surely do, rather it is a total understanding of how they work and an ability to reveal their intrinsic humanity which she had and which is rare in my listening experience. This set is a must-have for all lovers of solo piano music and admirers of the consummate art of Tatiana Nikolayeva, a true original.

– MusicWeb International (Steve Arloff)

Antonin Rejcha Guarneri Trio Prague Antonin Rejcha: Piano Trios

The piece reflects the tumultuous post-war musical development and can be designated as one of Foerster’s most progressive compositions. The young and gifted Janáček Trio interprets Foerster’s works with an understanding of the composer’s inner world and complete engagement.

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With Václav Jan Tomášek we find ourselves at the furthermost border marking the realm of the Music from 18th Century Prague cycle. Without his music, however, the edition would not have been complete. Shortly after his arrival in Prague, Tomášek became renowned for his piano playing skills, later winning the moniker of the "Music Pope". Not only was he an outstanding pianist and fruitful composer, but he also became a sought-after music teacher. His students included composer Jan Václav Hugo Voříšek, famous critic Eduard Hanslick as well as a number of virtuoso pianists. Tomášek's music oscillates between late classicist and early romantic style with songs and piano compositions making the bulk of his oeuvre. Sadly, only a little fragment of these are accessible on recordings. The present recording brings three out of his seven fortepiano sonatas; they are performed on a copy of a period instrument. Tomášek's sonatas are marked by ap rofuseness of musical ideas and often also unusual modulation plans. Since her fortepiano studies in Paris, Petra Matějová has performed extensively, made a number of recordings and led master classes in several European countries. Her ambition in making thi srecording was to convince listeners and pianists alike that the time has come to bring Tomášek's work to new life and give it back its well-deserved place on concert stages.

Also available: Life with Czech Music - Janácek, Martinu / Sir Charles Mackerras

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Reviews:

Symphonic Variations, Legends, Scherzo capriccioso

Charles Mackerras recorded all of this music in London for EMI's "Eminence" series, but those discs may be very difficult to find, and in any case they fail to stand up to these marvelous remakes. What makes so many Mackerras performances special is the conductor's buoyant sense of rhythm, and when he's working the Czech Philharmonic in top form that result can be (and in this case is) exquisite. There's no need to go on at length about the virtues of these performances. A few examples suffice to illustrate the point: there's the wonderful lightness of touch Mackerras brings to the waltz episode in the Symphonic Variations and its dazzling final fugue; the care with which he balances the percussion in the Scherzo capriccioso so that its rhythmic contributions tell without ever becoming overbearing; and in the Legends, the snap he brings to the quicker pieces (such as No. 3) and the wonderfully subtle way he sets up the appearance (in No. 6) of that gorgeous tune from the Third Symphony's slow movement. Sonically this disc is equally fine. Note the perfect balances between winds and strings throughout and the gorgeous contribution of the harp in the Legends that call for it. Totally great!

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Symphony no 6, Golden Spinning Wheel

In his equally laudatory review of this fantastic new release, my colleague Christophe Huss salutes Supraphon for managing to remain true to its dedication to Czech music while at the same time upholding the highest standards of performance quality. To this observation I can only add "Amen!" The label already has a couple of noteworthy versions of Dvorák's luminous Sixth Symphony with the incomparable (in this music anyway) Czech Philharmonic--a very good one by Neumann and a classic account by Ancerl. In fact, this symphony has been very well-served on disc, with excellent recordings by Kubelik, Rowicki, and Suitner, to name three of the best that come immediately to mind. Nevertheless, this newcomer bids fair to move right to the top of the available discography.


Recorded live, the rapport in evidence between Charles Mackerras and the orchestra really is the stuff of legends. There are so many outstanding moments that it's hard to settle on just a few, but consider the fortissimo counterstatement of the opening tune, just a touch "pesante" for added emphasis, or the gorgeously natural rubato between phrases of the same movement's second subject, and the way the coda really takes off and builds in energy straight through to the final climax. Then there's the usual gorgeous wind playing from the orchestra, so evident in the Adagio. Mackerras drives the scherzo with exhilarating abandon, and although he never bears down on the rhythm too heavily (always maintaining the lilt of the dance), the clarity of texture allows such characterful touches as the offbeat timpani in the reprise to register with full impact. I also love the extra punch he brings to the principal section's return after the trio.


Best of all, Mackerras treats us to what must be the most thrilling account of the finale yet captured on disc. It takes off like the wind and never looks back, simply accumulating energy as it goes. The great string fugato that initiates the coda flies by as if on mighty wings, and the grandiosity of the closing pages never loses that vital rhythmic impulse that gives the music its inner life. I wish that Supraphon had not included the applause at the end, but when you consider that all of this, and so much else besides, is happening in real time you will understand that anyone who believes that the era of "great" conductors is past simply hasn't been listening. If this sort of artistic communion between conductor and orchestra in the service of a brilliant interpretation isn't greatness, then we need to ask whether the term has any meaning at all.


The Golden Spinning Wheel (a studio recording this time) also receives what is arguably its finest performance on disc, even considering Harnoncourt's outstanding recent version. The opening, usually a blur of muddy rhythms in the lower strings and indifferently played percussion, here sounds as crisp and clean as a spring morning. I have never understood why some performances cut the central episode wherein the holy hermit gets back the heroine's various body parts (so he can patch her together again) in exchange for the components of the golden spinning wheel. The threefold musical repetition is not literal, and the orchestration is enchanting. The section is, in effect, the slow movement following the scherzo in which poor Dornicka gets hacked to bits in the first place, and it's a necessary four minutes of contrast. Finally, this is the moment where we encounter most of the "spinning wheel" music of the title. Mackerras rightly doesn't delete it, and hearing those deliciously chubby brass chorales and lovely wind solos alongside such characterful phrasing, you can't imagine why anyone would. The last few minutes offer as pure an expression of joy as you'll ever hear.


Supraphon's engineering is outstanding in both works, a touch warmer in the symphony (perhaps as a result of the presence of an audience), but in all respects as fine as any from this source. That audience, by the way, is absolutely silent, and with music-making of such spellbinding quality going on it's no wonder. Coming hard on the heels of his sensational Janácek double CD a few months ago, it's clear that Mackerras' Supraphon recordings will comprise a small but outstanding legacy worthy to stand beside the great recordings of such legends as Talich or Ancerl, and that the great Czech tradition is very much alive both in Prague and at Supraphon. Buy a few of these: they make terrific gifts for special occasions, and you can be sure to get a hearty "Thank you!" from the lucky objects of your affection. But first, treat yourself.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Symphonies 8 & 9

At 80 years young, Charles Mackerras remains one of the great conductors of our era, not to mention one of the most unheralded. His unfailing musicality, intelligence, and sheer joy in performing communicates vividly in these two glorious performances, beautifully recorded live in September, 2005. They are the kind of interpretations that make you listen as if for the first time to music you probably know well. This isn't just because Mackerras opts for the Urtext editions of both scores, most noticeable in the finale of the Eighth Symphony, where after the central climax he has the cellos play the variant of the main theme contained in Dvorák's autograph (Harnoncourt and a few others do similarly). What really distinguishes these performances is their sheer excitement and vital sense of flow, a function of rhythmically characterful phrasing allied to ideally transparent textures.

This is as true of the bucolic first two movements of the Eighth Symphony, where the woodwinds are especially delightful, as it is in the tremendously physical and passionate initial allegro of the Ninth. Has this movement's coda ever sounded more stormily agitated? And notice how marvellously Mackerras judges the tempo of the ensuing Largo, perfectly poised between rapt contemplation and easeful forward motion. Rhythmic acuity is the hallmark of both scherzos: a deliciously pointed waltz in the Eighth, and a swiftly vivacious Slavonic dance in the Ninth.

In the two finales, so often turned into stop-and-start affairs by less adept conductors, Mackerras creates an irresistible feeling of culmination, choosing rousing initial tempos and then for the most part sticking to them. The Eighth's concluding variations seldom have come across more cogently, particularly the lazy last three, which never bog down in excessive Romantic reverie. The Prague Symphony Orchestra responds to Mackerras' direction with amazing gusto, as if it doesn't already know the music backwards and forwards, and the audience is admirably silent. There are other wonderful performances of this music out there, but this truly is as good as it gets.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Slavonic Dances

It's been along time since Supraphon made a great new recording of Dvorák's delicious Slavonic Dances, but it's been worth the wait. Charles Mackerras is one of the two or three finest conductors alive at present, and he knows this music, loves it, and makes the orchestra play it as if it were as fresh as the day it was written. This is no mean feat, since the Czech Philharmonic knows these pieces blindfolded; or at least they think that they do. It's amazing how many seemingly new details Mackerras reveals (particularly in his characterful treatment of the percussion parts, and the careful dynamic balances involving the brass section) that on closer examination turn out to have been exactly what the composer wrote all along. He's particularly crisp and attentive to rhythm in the waltz-like dances (Op. 46 No. 6 and Op. 72 No. 8), where he catches the music's lilt to perfection. But then, he doesn't really put a foot wrong anywhere. The great recordings of these pieces are by Kubelik (DG), Dorati (Mercury), Szell (Sony), Talich (Supraphon), and Sejna (Supraphon). This newcomer, warmly recorded with fine inner detail, belongs in their august company.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Symphonic Poems

"You won't find better conducting in this music anywhere. Charles Mackerras finds so many wonderful details in these pieces that it's impossible to list them all, and he does it at all tempos and dynamic levels. Listen to his subtle underlining of rhythm in The Wood Dove's opening funeral march, and compare it to the unrivaled glitter of its central party music. Bask in the woodwind timbres at the opening of The Noonday Witch, and marvel at just how much music Mackerras finds even in the stormy climax of The Water Goblin. It's an unalloyed delight from the first note to the last.

Of course, the Czech Philharmonic plays these pieces magnificently. The sonics, however, are not as brilliant as the performances, and that's not unusual from this venue, with its somewhat cavernous acoustic. Slightly recessed brass and percussion lessen the impact of the climaxes somewhat, but it's awfully hard to quibble when the interpretations are this strong. Self-recommending."

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Ma Vlast
Taken down live at the 1999 Prague Spring Festival, Charles Mackerras' performance offers a typically fresh, vital look at Smetana's masterpiece. With the Czech Philharmonic in fine form, the result is completely recommendable, even if it doesn't have quite the personality of Kubelik's emotional return performance of 1990, or that special orchestral sonority that Talich or Ancerl enjoyed. Mackerras' interpretive insights are subtle, but fans of this music will find plenty to enjoy, such as the correctly played (for once!) trumpet rhythms at the climax of "Vltava", the carefully balanced brass and string sonorities at the opening of "From Bohemia's Woods and Fields", and the propulsive thrust that cleverly disguises the monothematic repetitiousness of "Tábor" and "Blaník". The up-close, live recording manages to minimize most audience noises but necessarily spotlights certain instruments (harps right at the beginning) in a way that precludes a truly expansive soundstage. On the other hand, the notorious reverberation of the Rudolfinum has been successfully tamed, thanks in part to the presence of the public. We're not exactly dying for another recording of this work, but it's impossible not to welcome music making of this enthusiasm and idiomatic security with anything less than open arms.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

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