Faith in God was for Dvorák the cornerstone on which he built his own life and work, hence it comes as no surprise that a number of his seminal pieces are within the domain of sacred music, and frequently linked with a strong personal story.

The first version of the oratorio Stabat Mater came into being after the death of his first-born daughter. In the wake of the triumph of its London premiere, Dvorák received more commissions from the UK, which gave rise to other paramount compositions: The Spectre's Bride, Requiem and Saint Ludmila.

The instigation for Te Deum came from New York, where following the premiere of the New World Symphony Dvorák wrote the Biblical Songs, the apex of his oeuvre of this genre. The set also contains pieces that have been seldom performed (the cantata The Heirs of the White Mountain, Psalm 149 in the previously unreleased recording made by the conductor Václav Neumann.).

At the same time, this 8-disc collection within the Dvorák series, featuring gems from the Supraphon archive, showcases superlative artists and performances in sensitively re-mastered sound.

DVO?ÁK String Quartets Nos. 10-14. Cypresses • Panocha Qrt • SUPRAPHON SU4048-2 (3 CDs: 202:46)


Supraphon is finding new and exciting ways to encourage you to sample the Panocha’s much-admired 1983–95 recordings of Dvo?ák’s string quartets. Should you have collected some individual volumes and run out of steam, you now have the chance to acquire this slimline three-CD set containing the last five quartets, and Cypresses in the bargain. But if you bought the box set of all the quartets and have seldom played the early ones—I shouldn’t think it likely, but it is, I suppose, possible —then it’s also the case that you might cast a jaundiced eye over this selection of the best-known works and wonder why you didn’t hold out.


Whatever you may or may not have done, one can hardly argue with a label that seeks to maximize profits this way, or, to put it another way, to reinvestigate means by which to propagate its recorded legacy and that of its artists. The Panocha is a highly distinguished group, certainly, but it has its rivals, current and past. It also rivals itself, given that it’s made other recordings of this repertoire for other labels. For example, almost a decade after recording Nos. 10 and 14, it rerecorded them for Camerata (28093). The “new” Panocha proved here to be a touch fleeter than the old. James H. North certainly admired both accounts in Fanfare 32:1, as do I, though I like the Prague Quartet’s DG accounts equally, in their very different ways. There is more pathos in the Prague recordings, made between 1973 and 1977, but their heavier bowing and boomier acoustic accords them a somewhat inflated sound. This may or may not please, but it is certainly to be distinguished from the Panocha’s lighter collective qualities.


Another leading Czech group, the Stamitz, has also recorded the full set and most impressively. It’s now to be had complete on Brilliant 99949. They tend to relax just that bit more than their rivals, but evince a genuinely memorable approach. They are very convincing in the op. 106 quartet but in its rather cavernous, distant way, so too is the Prague. Many contemporary ensembles take this quartet in a quasi-symphonic way, piling it with almost neurotic intensity. Fortunately none of these three Czech groups do that. Indeed the Panocha plays with discretion and appropriate tonal weight, arguably a touch more vibrant than either the Stamitz or the Prague in the slow movement.


One can argue the swings and roundabouts of this all day. I find the Prague a touch more patrician in phrasing than either the Stamitz or Panocha, but oddly, rather more openly expressive in a number of the slow movements. Perhaps Cypresses offers a clue: The Panocha plays the fourth, a poco adagio , as a recollected-in-tranquility elegy. The Prague, meanwhile, prefers a more measured melancholy. The difference is between the heightened mobility of the Panocha and the stately reflection of the Prague, a pretty accurate reflection of the expressive differences generally. This also applies to the Panocha’s recent remake, again on Camerata (CMCD-28206), where it’s coupled with Quartet No. 13


Where does this leave us? This three-CD set offers the bulk of Dvo?ák’s greatest quartets, or “The Essential String Quartets” as the cover puts it, in idiomatic, beautifully nuanced readings. The complete set is on Supraphon 3815-2, but this selection of the last quartets contains recordings that are, even in a crowded field, among the best around.


FANFARE: Jonathan Woolf

This 4-disc set contains all of Dvorák’s piano quartets and quintets, plus his string quintets, the Sextet, and the Intermezzo (Nocturne) for string quintet–a movement that journeyed from the Fourth String Quartet to the Double Bass Quintet (the arrangement here), finally winding up as the Nocturne for String Orchestra. It remains one of the most harmonically forward-looking and poignant pieces that Dvorák ever wrote, and it’s no wonder that he loved it. One of the great things about the internet is the fact that everyone can use it to express their opinion. One of the worst things about the internet is that everyone can use it to express their opinion. In the latter category we find a whole host of what I call “dot-com cowards,” anonymous posters who feel they have a duty to share their views with the rest of us without having the guts or decency to stand behind their opinions by letting us know just who they are. Many of these people post on Amazon.com, where one such moron described these performances as “insensitive” and “heavy-handed,” and among the worst available.

It’s a pity, really, that such people are given a forum to display their ignorance, the evidence of which is strengthened by their need for anonymity and enchanting freedom from any feeling of obligation to describe a performance accurately. It’s not that I personally disagree with their judgment. It’s rather that the statements of what purport to be musical facts are audibly untrue. Consider, for example, the Panocha Quartet’s performance of finale of the “American” String Quintet. Is this “heavy handed?” Or how about the Suk Trio in the Second Piano Quartet’s first movement. Insensitive? Please.

The fact that we are dealing with Czech musicians does not guarantee that they will be successful in Czech music. The reason that these are great performances stems from the fact that they are played by great musicians generally. The Panocha Quartet is one of the supreme ensembles of its kind, period. The Suk Trio, similarly, which tackles the two Piano Quartets, is a superb ensemble, and not just in Dvorák (try their Beethoven). Anyone reading this will already know to take the random “reviews” posted on sales sites with a big grain of salt, but it still infuriates me to see audibly first class performances maligned by people too cowardly even to post their names.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

"The unique item on the Starker disc is the first ever recording of the Bartok Viola Concerto in the cello version prepared by the man who originally completed Bartok's sketches of this work, Tibor Serly. I am surprised to find that—according to the notes accompanying the disc—it was published some 30 years ago, but never taken up until Starker started playing it. There is a strong case for preferring the cello version, when the lower register gives extra warmth to the melodic writing, notably in the Adagio religioso slow movement. If Starker shows a degree of emotional restraint in the Dvorak—almost as though he no longer finds the piece quite so fresh—his performance of the Bartok is stirringly expressive, very idiomatically Hungarian in the rhythmic pointing and linking of contrasted sections. He is brilliantly backed up by Slatkin and the St Louis orchestra who offer some alert playing. I hope now that cellists may take up this version more widely, both in concert and on disc, even though that would be hard luck on viola players, whose repertory is even sparser."

-- Edward Greenfield, Gramophone [3/1992]

These performances still sound as fresh and lively as any available. The first movement of the Eighth in particular has striking vitality, and Talich's characterful treatment of the finale, which waits until the coda before really taking off, continues to serve as a model of how the music can be played most effectively. The New World Symphony has similar passion and fire, and a Largo to die for, though in this work there's very strong competition from Ancerl on this same label, in very good stereo. Throughout both performances the playing of the Czech Philharmonic is, as expected, magnificently idiomatic, and the early 1950s mono recordings sound perfectly fine in these latest transfers, perhaps a bit brighter than in their previous incarnation. If for some reason you don't know these performances, then by all means get this latest release, and treasure it.

--David Hurwitz

This second release from young Czech conductor Jakub Hrusa is definitely better than his first one. The Prague Philharmonia is very much a chamber orchestra, and so you won't find the weight that, say, Dorati brings to the American Suite (Decca) or Belohlávek enjoys in the splendidly evocative Fantastic Scherzo (Chandos). But aside from the second movement of the Dvorák, which really needs a sharper attack, there's no lack of energy--and there's plenty of attractive detail (particularly in the wind parts) that often goes unnoticed in performances with larger ensembles. Still, I'm not giving up the power and luxurious color of my big-orchestra versions anytime soon.

Indeed, the Suk Serenade is extremely beautiful as well as unusually lively. Despite its appealing lyricism and melodic charm it's a tough piece to bring off. With its sequence of moderately paced inner movements, monotony is an ever-present threat, even in versions coming from Czech performers. Hrusa characterizes the work quite effectively, with the necessary lightness as well as rhythmic point. The program also has been very intelligently chosen: none of these pieces is that familiar, but all are very beautiful and worth hearing, so this disc may well fill a gap in many Czech music collections. Warm, well-balanced sound completes this recommendable package.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

This is the Smetana Trio playing Dvorák, not to be confused with the Dvorák Trio playing Smetana. Such is life in the world of Czech chamber music. But seriously, Supraphon alone has an abundance of recordings of these works, and no wonder. The F minor and Dumky trios probably are the two finest works in the trio medium from the second half of the 19th century, and they make ideal disc-mates, one a sort of apotheosis of Dvorák's work in traditional forms, the other an innovative and path-breaking essay in his popular nationalist idiom. This stupendous new recording rivals the celebrated Suk Trio interpretations for the same label both in technical mastery and interpretive insight; in short, it is second to none.

The program opens with the Dumky Trio, and right from the start you can tell that this is going to be a great performance. Passion and spontaneity unite with rhythmic precision and a real feeling for the dance. Listen to the natural rubato in the fourth movement that prevents the recurring march rhythms from ever turning stiff or mechanical (and notice how much this music resembles the finale of Shostakovich's Second Trio). I loved the lightness of rhythm in the next piece: so often its skipping 6/8 rhythm becomes an excuse to create a chamber version of Wagner's descent into Nibelheim. Not here, where careful attention to dynamics and a flowing tempo create an effortless feeling of movement. There isn't a second in this performance where you feel the music should be played any other way, and no praise can be higher than that.

If anything, these qualities are even more evident in the great F minor trio. The players fling themselves into the first movement with almost dangerous abandon--but notice how perfectly in tune the opening octaves are, and how perfectly balances are maintained even in the most turbulent episodes in the development section. As in the previous work, the scherzo benefits from the ensemble's rhythmic acuity; but it's the slow movement that's really special here. It's not only beautifully paced and phrased, but the ensemble obviously took as much care with transitions as with the melodies, and the result has a seamless continuity that belies the impression in less-adept performances of a movement consisting of a disjointed stream of incredibly pretty tunes.

In the finale, happily taking Dvorák's "con brio" admonition literally, the ensemble sails into the coda with such enthusiasm that the music seems self-propelled. The final turn to the major in the coda is absolutely thrilling, and the closing bars offer the ultimate in musical satisfaction. I started listening to this disc with the slow movement, thinking to sample a bit here and there, but the playing was so gripping that I played the disc through to the end, then went back and listened again from the beginning. It's that good, and the sonics have a true-to-life immediacy that permits these spellbinding interpretations to register with maximum impact. Without question, this is a very great recording, an essential acquisition whether you already love this music or just want to get to know it better.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com