Classical Music

BOHEMIAN IMPRESSIONS • Václav Neumann 1 , Libor Pe?ek 2 , cond; Czech PO; 3 Jí?í B?lohlávek, cond; Prague Philharmonia • SUPRAPHON SU 4058-2 (68:02)


1 SMETANA Má Vlast: From Bohemia’s Woods and Fields. 1 DVO?ÁK Czech Suite: Preludium; Romance. In Nature’s Realm. 2 SUK A Summer’s Tale: Intermezzo. 3 NOVÁK Moravian-Slovak Suite: The Lovers; The Country Musicians. 1 MARTIn? Bouquet of Flowers: Idyll. 1 JANÁ?EK The Cunning Little Vixen: Introduction. Lachian Dances: “The Saws.” 1 FIBICH Poem. At Twilight


Bohemian, certainly, but also Moravian—though it would have been a less catchy title. In any case, geographic quibbles aside, this is a simple sampler, a compilation from Supraphon and Panton’s vaults of material that will be very well known in original guise.


We start with Má Vlast , but not, fortunately, Vltava . Instead we hear Václav Neumann’s mid-1970s recording of the piece known to one and all as From Bohemia’s Woods and Meadows , before a process of Virgilian change transformed them first to Woods and Fields and now, apparently, to Fields and Groves. The world of translation truly never sleeps. I prefer Neumann’s Czech Philharmonic performance to his less idiomatic earlier Leipzig one. His Dvo?ák Czech Suite is represented by two movements notable for illustrating the highly nuanced and personalized sound of the inimitable wind section—all freshness and vocalized wit. A more substantial offering, however, comes in the form of the concert overture In Nature’s Realm , recorded in the early 1980s. The LP from which this derives sported various other overtures including Carnival, Othello, and My Home . Again there’s plenty for the winds to do here, in particular, though the recording doesn’t register with quite as much immediacy as the earlier ones.


It’s Neumann who bears the bulk of the recordings. He also directs the sole Martin? piece, the Idyll from The Bouquet of Flowers , always a joy to hear. And Janá?ek is represented by two pieces, the introduction to The Cunning Little Vixen and “The Saws—from the Lachian Dances, which are both, necessarily perhaps, somewhat unrepresentative. Zden?k Fibich’s Poem , that luscious onetime standby of fiddle players, is lusciously and lovingly played. Libor Pe?ek’s mid-’80s recording of Josef Suk’s Intermezzo from A Summer’s Tale , a finely evocative torso, is adeptly played by the Czech Philharmonic. Vít?zslav Novák’s Moravian-Slovak Suite is represented by two of the central movements, a contrasting pair well chosen for this purpose.


The recordings date from 1971 to 1998. I’m sure this taster disc would interest the casual listener. Sterner auditors may not, of course, wish to sully their shelves with a mere compilation of this sort.


FANFARE: Jonathan Woolf

Beethoven Sviatoslav Richter Piano Sonatas, Op.10 no 3; Op.26; Op.57

LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN Sviatoslav Richter, piano; Czech Philharmonic Orchestra/Karel Ancerl; Live recordings: 1956 & 1962. LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN: Concerto No. 1 in C major for piano and orchestra, Op. 15; Concerto No. 3 in C minor for piano and orchestra, Op. 37

Amidst the innumerable recordings made, Panenka’s singular take on Beethoven stands out and astonishes owing to the sheer exuberance of articulation, purity of style and lucidity of tone.

Classical Music

Classical Music

BACH Cello Suites Nos. 1–6 • Mstislav Rostropovich (vc) • SUPRAPHON 4044-2, mono (2 CDs: 123:52) Live: Prague 5/26–27/1955


Although this set was released over two years ago, it only came to my attention more recently (and via a pirate clone on the Documents label at that). I then held off on writing a review, hoping that one of my Fanfare colleagues with expertise in string instruments would take the task in hand instead. As that has not occurred, I will now venture in where angels fear to tread. While Rostropovich did of course record the set of cello suites near the end of his career, for EMI in 1995 (issued on both CD and DVD; see the review of the former by David K. Nelson in 19:1), the release of another cycle from 40 years before, from the dawn of his career in 1955, is a major event that demands attention.


This recording was made at the annual Prague Spring Festival, when the cellist was but 28 years old. (It is also a notable occasion in that Rostropovich there met his wife, the famed soprano Galina Vishnevskaya, and proposed to her after a whirlwind 10-day courtship!) The monaural sound is quite clear, if a bit hard-edged and closely miked; the audience is very quiet, though now and then an occasional soft cough is barely audible in the background. While quite acceptable on its own terms, the audio quality of course does not compete with the velvety sound of EMI’s digital set. A similar disadvantageous comparison can be made about the quality of the cellos used; Rostropovich had not yet acquired his famed Duport Stradivarius, and the unidentified instrument used in Prague, while again good enough in and of itself, cannot compare with the ravishing, burnished tone quality of the Duport. For an instant revelation of the difference, listen to the opening of the Prelude to the Fifth Suite, where the sheer depth and opulence of the Duport in the EMI set is positively dumbfounding. There is also the occasional note in Prague that is not quite dead in tune—clearly due in part to the far less rich overtones of the instrument rather than any shortcoming on the part of Rostropovich. If the sound of the instrument itself is a decisive desideratum here—and for many people it justifiably is—then this Supraphon release will likely not be much more than a curiosity.


However, in addition to instrumental sound there is the issue of differences in interpretation over the intervening span of four decades, and that is where this set comes into its own. The first thing to note is that overall, with the major exceptions of the preludes to the First, Third, and Fourth suites, the Gigue in the First Suite, and the Sarabande in the Fifth Suite, the earlier performances are noticeably swifter. (The total timing of the EMI set is 137:54, compared to 123:52 here). That said, comparisons of some individual movements can be misleading, as in the 1955 performances Rostropovich omits repeats in some movements—e.g., the allemandes in the Third and Sixth suites, the bourées in the Fourth Suite, the Courante in the Sixth Suite—though even in some of those instances the 1955 versions would still be swifter if the repeats were observed. (The cuts in Prague doubtless stem from Rostropovich’s early training; in the booklet notes to the EMI set, the cellist recounts that his teacher, Semyon Kozolupov, strictly forbade pupils to play repeats of the second half of movements written in binary form, allowing repeats only in the first half.) If observance of all the repeats is a major criterion for evaluating a set of the suites, then again this set will not be competitive with the EMI studio recording.


What, then, does this Supraphon set have that commends it as a supplement or alternative to the EMI studio version? In a word (actually two words), that elusive and almost intangible quality I would call “narrative intensity.” Despite my unreserved adoration of Rostropovich as the greatest cellist in recorded history (and is there any lover of cello music who does not so venerate him?), I had always found the EMI set of these suites somehow lacking, and this new release has finally made clear why. As tonally gorgeous and technically immaculate as those sets are, and despite the programmatic titles and descriptions that Rostropovich gives to each suite in that set, it is live in Prague and not in the studio that the cellist finds and articulates fully sustained interpretive profiles. Listen for example to the Sarabande in the Second Suite, dubbed “Sorrow and intensity” by Rostropovich in the 1995 EMI set. While that studio recording is very beautiful, it lacks meditative profundity; whereas in Prague there is a rapt sense of total inward intensity—what the Germans call Innigkeit —that transforms the movement into one bearing comparison with the symphonic Adagio s of Bruckner. Likewise, while still too slow for my taste, the gavottes and Gigue in the Sixth Suite in Prague have some forward momentum, unlike the suffocatingly leaden versions in the EMI set.


Another notable difference is that in Prague Rostropovich is metrically much more exact, whereas on the EMI set he is rather free (or “rhapsodic,” to borrow his description of Pablo Casals). This is particularly true in the in the concluding dance movements (the menuets, bourées, gavottes, and gigues), with the last two movements of the Second Suite again offering particularly striking instances. While I suppose that some might characterize the earlier recordings as comparatively stiff, I do not find them so, and indeed prefer the more strict approach as better articulating the structure of the music. On the other hand, I much prefer the brisker tempos taken in the EMI set to the preludes of the First, Third, and Fourth Suites, the Allemande in the Third Suite, and the Courante in the Sixth Suite, as imparting a necessary greater degree of energy to those movements.


While my overall interpretive preference is therefore with the Prague versions, I cannot simply recommend that set in preference to the EMI one for those desiring a recording of Rostropovich in this repertoire. The two sets are strikingly different, and each has its considerable merits in manifesting the cellist’s extraordinary musical genius. (Indeed, the Prague set caused me to appreciate virtues of the EMI set that had not registered with me before.) For fans of Rostropovich, it goes without saying that this is a mandatory acquisition; but to lovers of cello music in general and the Bach suites in particular, I would say much the same thing, despite its occasional limitations. Had this not come to my attention too late to qualify, it surely would have been a major Want List contender; urgently recommended.


FANFARE: James A. Altena

Czech roots and international careers are the connecting link between the creators of all the three featured concertos. Antonín Kraft, first cellist in Prince Esterházy’s orchestra, was according to Haydn, who initiated him into the art of composition, “one of the most superb masters of this instrument”.

Imagine a young lad in love - that is what the piece is about! This is how Dvořák himself characterized "The Cypresses", a work he composed at the age of twenty-three when he fell for the young actress Josefina Čermáková (who was later to become his sister-in-law). Regardless of the fact that it is a juvenile and in many ways imperfect composition, Dvořák kept returning to it, exploiting its motives as material for his later opuses. For his "Evening Songs" written at a more mature stage of his professional career, he chose equally yearning verses by Czech poet Vítězslav Hálek. Even the poetry of Adolf Heyduk that served as a model for the "Gypsy Songs" features motives of love, although in a broader sense involving the love of music, nature and freedom. The wife of the famous virtuoso Joseph Joachim took "Songs My Mother Taught Me" to her heart and the song later became one of Dvořáks true "hits" worldwide. Pavol Breslik is an outstanding tenor invited by most prominent opera houses and concert halls and besides operatic works, he focuses on song repertoire. After Schubert's "Die Schöne Müllerin" he took a fancy to Dvořák's songs and, accompanied flawlessly by Robert Pechanec, imprinted all of his passion into the present recording.

All tracks have been digitally mastered using 24-bit technology.

All tracks have been digitally mastered using 24-bit technology.

Karel Ancerl was an exceptional Shostakovich conductor. His recording of the Tenth remains unsurpassed, and this coupling of Symphonies Nos. 1 and 5, while not quite on such an exalted level, is very fine as well. As usual with this conductor, the slow movements are exceptionally "raw" and intense, as the music demands, while the fast music has thrilling rhythmic precision. Listen to Ancerl's biting attack in both scherzos and you will hear conducting to the manner born. At this stage in its existence the Czech Philharmonic really was better than any of the Russian bands, and that included both Leningrad (under Mravinsky) and Moscow (under Kondrashin). However, Ancerl does not take the Fifth's coda as slowly as some did (and do), emphasizing its heaviness and false optimism. He plays it straight, which is fine with me. Similarly, he omits the snare drum transition between the Lento and the Finale of the First Symphony. I didn't miss it much, but it does sound odd. The remastered sonics are bright and vivid--good quality stereo for the period (1962-65), and they hold up well. --David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

All tracks have been digitally mastered using 24-bit technology.

All tracks have been digitally mastered using 24-bit technology.