Classics Reconsidered: Walton’s Cello Concerto (Gregor Piatigorsky, Boston Symphony and Charles Munch)

Wednesday, October 2, 2024

Charlotte Gardner and Richard Bratby discuss Piatigorsky’s premiere recording of Walton’s Cello Concerto, made in 1957

Gregor Piatigorsky (1903-76) commissioned the Cello Concerto from Walton and was the first to record it (photography: Tully Potter Collection))
Gregor Piatigorsky (1903-76) commissioned the Cello Concerto from Walton and was the first to record it (photography: Tully Potter Collection))

The original Gramophone review

Walton Cello Concerto

Gregor Piatigorsky vc Boston SO / Charles Munch (RCA)

How glad I am that the Walton is at last available on record in this country. It is not an entirely successful piece: in the first and second movements he gives a convincingly fresh treatment to material that has fascinated him ever since the Viola Concerto of 1928-9, but I am more than ever sure that the third movement is broken-backed; the two longish passages for the solo cello do not keep the argument going, and there is no inevitability about the return of the main theme from the first movement, only a feeling that Walton could not think of anything better. Nevertheless it is an accessible work by a distinguished composer, and the British public should not have had to wait so long for a recording of it that has been available for some time in America. Unfortunately I have to modify this welcome straightaway with a complaint about the recording. Piatigorsky is made to sound as close to us as he would be to the conductor in the concert-hall, and the result is a completely unnatural balance between soloist and orchestra. It is not that we don’t want to hear the details of his magnificent playing; they are well worth listening to, and I am sure that professional cellists will be torn between envy and admiration at the masterly way he deals with the technical difficulties Walton has provided for him. But this is no mere display piece. To over-emphasise the soloist’s contribution in this way ruins the continuity of the musical argument, and I am driven to the conclusion that whoever agreed to this microphone-balance had no real understanding of the music. Against these mechanical faults (and one or two others, such as obvious tape-joins and changes of level) must be set the quality of the performance, and Piatigorsky is almost beyond praise. It was he who commissioned this work, and he gives the impression of loving every note of it. The orchestral playing is also technically as good as one would expect, and if there is a certain lack of sensuous warmth about it this may well be the fault of the recording. This is a record that is well worth having for the sake of the music and the performance, but one that could have been much more pleasing to listen to. Jeremy Noble (9/59)


Charlotte Gardner Well, I’m feeling Jeremy Noble’s pain here. To have to wait two years for a recording of an important new concerto from a major British composer which had been available to American collectors for some time (Piatigorsky, Munch and the Boston SO recorded it at Boston Symphony Hall on January 28, 1957, three days after performing the premiere there), and then to find a fine performance ruined by a horrible balance … I’d actually love to hear that first mono issue, just for comparison’s sake. What is clear, though, is that the various stereo remasterings from the mid-1960s onwards gradually resulted in an entirely more satisfying balance and overall sound quality. Piatigorsky is out in front, but not unusually so by today’s standards. Certainly the engineering is no longer its Achilles heel, even if the clarinet and oboe sound still leaves something to be desired.

Richard Bratby It’s certainly perfectly listenable these days, and like you, I really don’t mind the balance between soloist and orchestra. As you say, Piatigorsky is out in front, but it’s reasonably plausible as the sort of sound you might encounter in a concert hall (at least, if you like to sit near the front of the stalls and really feel the soloist’s physical presence). I can think of one or two over-engineered 21st-century concerto recordings that could certainly benefit from a touch of RCA’s old-school know-how! But what is it, exactly, that you don’t like about the clarinet and oboe sound? They’re certainly not as rich and creamy as we’ve come to expect from a Big Five orchestra, but they seem present enough. Of course, the Boston SO under Munch had a fine reputation for French repertoire, and for me, that lean, Gallic, slightly pungent woodwind sound works well in Walton – a spritz of citrus to offset all that Mediterranean warmth.

CG Well, perhaps I was a bit heavy there. Slim citrus pungency does work especially well in this context, and it’s certainly present. It’s just that I find clarinets and oboes tend to be the instruments that fare less well in older recordings – tonal liveliness gets dulled, to be replaced by a matt dryness. This one teeters around the edge: an occasional clarinet heaviness; an oboe’s lemon sucked of its spritz. But it’s minor. Perhaps more quibble-worthy – although still up for debate, given how notably well this concerto stands up to different interpretations – is Piatigorsky not being as fleet-footed and penetrating in the central Allegro appassionato as, say, Steven Isserlis, Daniel Müller-Schott, Paul Watkins … Even Pieter Wispelwey with his more Piatigorsky-leaning tonal meatiness is owning the momentum. Piatigorsky, for all his wonderful technique, sounds slightly as though he’s being pushed in a direction in which he doesn’t want to go.

RB That’s an interesting idea! There’s little doubt that today we expect (and generally get) a higher level of basic technical precision from soloists, and – speaking purely for myself – that can feel a bit like CGI in the cinema: where’s the sense of wonder, the frisson of risk, if anything is possible? After all, Walton knew what Piatigorsky could do, and was writing for his sound, his technique, his personality. I’d agree that there are performances out there that are more virtuosic, and that the best modern interpreters can bring out details that Piatigorsky, at this early stage in the work’s life, skates (or scrambles) over. But Susana Walton maintained that her composer husband saw the cello as essentially a melancholy instrument. What if this central scherzo, for all its brilliance, was meant to sing more than dance? Or as you suggest, to push Piatigorsky out of his comfort zone, and convey anxiety as well as panache? There’s a physicality – a human vulnerability – to Piatigorsky’s playing that I find intensely communicative.

CG That’s an interesting idea too! I do hear you about the physicality. But compare it with Walton himself in Edinburgh in 1959 conducting a lithe Pierre Fournier – still far from CGI-perfect, a little uncomfortable, even, but Fournier sounds more on board with the urgent tempo. Of course, this was something of a partner work to the Violin Concerto Walton had already written for Piatigorsky’s friend Jascha Heifetz, a greyhound virtuoso if ever there was one. That said, the Walton recording elsewhere feels uncomfortably fast, not least the very opening. I love the fact that Piatigorsky stuck to his guns in letting this and certain other places breathe more, despite Walton’s request for something more ‘tightened up’. Piatigorsky heard a slightly more time-suspended tautness, and what he gave with Munch is mesmerising. No wonder so many cellists of all characters have followed his lead. And my gosh, you can’t argue with the Boston strings’ sound either.

RB Fair enough: I’m a pushover for Fournier and I can easily believe, from hearing that BBC Legends performance, that Fournier might have been Walton’s ideal, had the composer been given carte blanche rather than being approached with a commission by Piatigorsky. It’s certainly taut. Interestingly, it seems that Piatigorsky’s premiere recording had already been made when Walton urged him to make things ‘more tough and rhythmical’ – and yet, when the disc arrived, he assured him that ‘everything about it is just as it should be’. Were his ears playing tricks on him, or was he just being tactful (not always his strong suit)? I totally agree about those silken Boston strings, by the way, and Piatigorsky’s way of suspending time. In that respect, it really does remind me of the fiddle concerto – so much of it truly feels as if it could be marked sognando.

CG Indeed. And yes, Walton’s flip-flopping fascinates me too, although my own theory is that it was a simple case of his being able to assess Piatigorsky’s interpretation more dispassionately by the time the record came out. It undoubtedly works – which I suppose brings us to the central question: is this commissioner’s recording a go-to one for us in 2024? For me it’s a ‘yes’ but with a caveat. I’ll elaborate shortly, but first, over to you!

RB Ultimately, I feel this is one of those recordings where you can hear history in the making. The sincerity of Piatigorsky’s playing, as he uncovers virgin musical territory, and the unmistakable (and flavoursome) period sonority of the Munch-era Boston SO are both unforgettable. Here we are, amid the last ashes and embers of Romanticism (whether or not Walton would have owned that description), hearing a cellist who trained under Anatoly Brandukov, who in turn inspired Tchaikovsky. There’s a special aura around this performance.

CG Well, you said it. From a history-making perspective, this recording is untouchable, with such a special aura and sound. From Piatigorsky there’s a dry darkness, a fragility, a nobility and a sense of sober, solitary song – together with a huge and beautifully captured linguistic, dynamic and colouristic range – that increases in magnetism with every listen, and to which Munch and his orchestra’s sympathetic luminous sensuosity is the perfect foil. I may query perceived imperfections when in cold-blooded analyst mode, but ultimately the overall effect is the sum of all of its parts. I just would also tuck the Isserlis under my arm: his Allegro appassionato is so good – airborne, with grip.

RB And as you said at the start, purely as a recording it’s never sounded better. Whichever ‘modern’ recording you might have in your collection (unaccountably, my personal dream team of Paul Tortelier and Louis Frémaux never recorded the Walton, but I understand that you are rather taken with Laura van der Heijden’s brand new account), knowing Piatigorsky and Munch will enhance your enjoyment of it. The interpretation of a masterpiece is a story that never ends; but someone has to write the first page – and this one is captivating.


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