The Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra's reputation has long been out of all proportion to its representation on record, at least in the West. Even today it is easy to gain a lopsided impression. Yes, we have the classic DG stereo set of Tchaikovsky's last three symphonies (8/87), but where are the earlier mono recordings of Nos. 5 and 6 which some rate even more highly [scheduled for next month—Ed], where is the no less classic Shostakovich Sixth once available on EMI, where is the historic 1938 Shostakovich Fifth (reissued in Japan, but not here) and so on?
Instead we have to make do with such things as the Philips reissue of a 1982 Shostakovich Eighth, recorded at the wrong pitch (6/89), and a five-disc Olympia compilation whose artistic quality is decidedly mixed (8/88). And here now are Erato putting out a set whose timings are stingy, whose recording quality is only fair and whose performances are again variable. One can only lament the fact that as Russian recording quality emerges from the Dark Ages so their orchestras are struggling to maintain standards in the face of diminishing resources and emigration of their best players.
The repertoire on the Erato set, consisting mostly of familiar Mravinsky favourites, may also give a misleading impression. He was indeed notorious for scheduling numerous rehearsals even for pieces he and the orchestra knew backwards, but his repertoire was wider than commonly imagined, and there is some unsuspected treasure in his discography. Olympia picked out one of the gems when they released Salmanov's Fourth Symphony (3/89), and I have been listening with much pleasure to Mravinsky's Melodiya LPs of the previous three symphonies by this intriguing composer. Given Erato's apparent interest in less well-known Soviet repertoire it is difficult to suppress disappointment at its absence here. Maybe the Sovtelexport agency is no better supplied these days than Russia's food shops.
If the range of the music-making itself also seems circumscribed, it is so first of all because of the Russian instrumental tradition. On the one hand the quality of the string playing is the stuff of legend. It is marked out not just by virtuosity and weight of tone (there was a time when the Leningrad Philharmonic could have supplied front-desk players to virtually every other top-class orchestra in the world) but also by an astonishing unity of expressive purpose. Always the sound is superbly focused, the inflexion unanimous; it may be lean, but it's never thin. Contrast this with the woodwind who often seem to be fighting gamely against insubordinate instruments and recalcitrant reeds, their difficulties surely exacerbated by lack of contact with the West, where orchestral wind playing has gone from strength to strength.
The second factor is the personality of the man who was the Leningraders' 'permanent director' from 1938 until his death 50 years later. This can already be guessed at from the demonic intensity of his most famous recordings, and it is confirmed by first-hand reports. ''A dreadful tyrant'' is the verdict of Lev Markiz, founder-conductor of the Moscow Soloists—''the whole orchestra began to tune their instruments an hour before the rehearsal was due to start, and 30 minutes later they sat there with instruments tuned, ready to begin''. Those were the days.
At its best the combination is uniquely potent—a controlled conflagration which almost scorches the ear, a sense of communicative intensity not as an optional extra, or even as something to be striven for, but as a constant presence, only waiting to be channelled in the right direction.
All that is clear enough from the recordings already available, and even those made in Mravinsky's eighties retain an Ancient Mariner-like, spellbinding quality. Unfortunately Erato's rehearsal disc, only available as part of the complete set of 12, is no such thing—three or four comments on timing and articulation at the beginning of the Tannhauser Overture are followed by a complete run-through of that and the Meistersinger Prelude (both splendid performances) and topped off by a brief personal reminiscence of little apparent relevance. Fortunately the other discs are available separately, though some are of considerably more interest than others.
45752: Any view of Shostakovich is seriously incomplete without knowledge of Mravinsky's recordings. He it was who premiered Symphonies Nos. 5, 6, 8, 9 and 10 (the Erato booklet claims 4, 5, 8, 9, 10 and 11) and although relations between composer and conductor cooled markedly in later years, for reasons not, I think, fully explained, the authority of the performances is undiminished.
Goodness knows how many times Mravinsky must have conducted the Fifth Symphony after its emotional premiere on November 21st, 1937 (Shostakovich's rehabilitation after the Lady Macbeth affair, in the middle of the Stalin purges). It does sound as though some of the rhythmic inflexions have lost their spontaneity and solidified into mannerisms (they had already done so by the time of the 1978 Vienna Festival account once available on EMI). The 1984 performance starts with dodgy ensemble, and one can almost imagine the glint in Mravinsky's eye at the mis-tuning of the first note in the main violin theme. Among many symptoms of an orchestra past its peak are cracks in the trumpets at crucial points and a ropey violin solo in the second movement. Despite this the finale still manages to ride on a wave bigger than any individual personality, bigger than the music itself. This performance is not to be dismissed, especially given the paradoxical scarcity of fine recordings of an apparently over-recorded work.
45753: The Shostakovich Tenth is not to be preferred to Mravinsky's 1954 Saga recording (reviewed on page 48), but it is still sufficiently different to be of interest. The very opening is a little more subdued, effectively so, there are minor readjustments of pace in the middle of the first movement, and the second movement is now even more careering than before at 3'59'', but the woodwind are noticeably more sophisticated. Drawbacks include some scrambled passages here and there, a false violin entry at 20'57'' in the first movement, a recording with distracting low hum, poor microphone placement and a bronchial audience. For my money the 1954 version has more edge to it.
45754: Mravinsky is the only conductor I have ever heard make Shostakovich's Twelfth Symphony remotely convincing. The orchestra swarms over the first movement like killer bees, and the fierceness of the finale redeems it from suspicions of empty triumphalism. It's not so much a question of pushing the music as finding the way to let it pull the listener through. Recording quality is once again hardly subtle, but it is far more vivid than the 1962 version once available on EMI; beware a glitch in the second movement at 1'21'' which causes a fraction of a beat to be lost, possibly in order to edit out a particularly hacking cough.
45755: As before, Mravinsky's Tchaikovsky Fifth is utterly compelling in its desperate urgency and irresistible momentum; like the 1963 Olympia version (8/88) it is a fraction less fanatical, more humane than the famous DG issues. I have to admit to hankering after the crackling energy of the latter at the Allegro vivace in the finale (2'43'')—here, by contrast, it comes stealing in, in flagrant contradiction of the score. As elsewhere some of the pauses between movements sound artificially curtailed; ditto the resonance of the final notes, which as throughout the set is cut off before the applause.
45756: Again, a slightly less extreme view of the Pathetique than before, but one of blazing integrity, a feeling of impossible-to-be-otherwise. Hear the first movement at 9'55'' for one of the most shocking outbursts of emotional agony captured on record. Apart from anything else Mravinsky emphasizes the forward-looking aspect of Tchaikovsky's music at the end of his life—without this, no Mahler Sixth, no ''Danse de la terre'' from Stravinsky's Rite (never mind the obvious influence of the second movement trio section on Sibelius's First Symphony).
45757: More lacerating intensity in Francesca da Rimini, where no one can deny its appropriateness—it's the kind of performance which makes you feel that nobody is entitled to express an opinion of the music until they have heard it. A beautifully atmospheric Khovanshchina Prelude, a predictably turbo-charged Ruslan and Ludmila Overture, and a sleek Raymonda Suite complete an attractive compilation.
45758: Mozart might seem unlikely territory for this orchestra, even if he was Tchaikovsky's favourite composer, and the B flat Symphony is an unlikely choice even for seasoned Mozartians. The opening Allegro assai is light and airy and would raise few eyebrows even in the style-conscious 1990s, but the following movements are respectively too sleepy, too hearty and too metallic for comfort. Nor can I feel that the far finer E flat Symphony has much to commend it as a performance, beyond its solid assurance and resilient rhythm. Turning down the treble helps to control fizziness in the violin sound.
45759: Poor woodwind intonation at the opening and some skew-whiff synchronization later on let down this Beethoven First Symphony. Inner vitality shines through nevertheless, and although the manner is severe, the performance knows its own mind in a way that never comes across as routine. There is more dicey woodwind intonation in the Eroica, and the oboe tone in the Funeral March curdles alarmingly. Again the overall
approach is Spartan in its self-denying austerity and yet has a wholly characteristic eagle-eyed intensity. I find it difficult to live with such a regimented approach to the first movement, however.
45760: A voracious Beethoven Fifth, with an element of aggression that comes entirely from within and which would probably be absurd if anyone tried to re-create it. Mravinsky's attitude to dynamics seems to be on the lines of 'no gradual inflexion unless explicit instructions are given to the contrary'. The result is a curious reminder of the old-fashioned 'terraced dynamics' approach to baroque music, which some may find offputting. For me this is a mighty rendition of the score and all the more inspiring for the impression that its power is tapped from within. The Seventh, however, is reined back to the point of stodginess, at least until the white-hot finale and even there one of the trumpets forgets himself in the last three bars.
45761: Perhaps against expectations the Pastoral receives a performance of radiant, vernal openheartedness. It is a straight-down-the-middle view of the work, and given the number of rough edges I have to wonder whether it has anything more to offer than a dozen more successfully recorded alternatives.
45762: Mravinsky's bleeding chunks of Wagner should be among the highlights of the set. Sadly, they are vitiated by technical problems. Woodwind intonation is rank at the beginning of the Tristan Prelude and also makes much of the first Lohengrin Prelude a trial; the Tannhauser Overture is for the most part glorious, despite short-winded trombones, but like the Shostakovich Tenth Symphony it is marred by low hum on the recording. Most surprising of all is The Ride of the Valkyries, whose main dotted rhythm is swallowed up, trivializing its character; nor do I find that the silent-movie tempo and pinched recording quality do much for the Lohengrin Act 3 Prelude. I would be sorry not to hear Mravinsky's incandescent performance of Siegfried's Funeral March again, but that is also available on Olympia, and as a whole the Erato Wagner disc is difficult to recommend.
For those cursed with absolute pitch I should say that all these recordings are distinctly on the sharp side of A440 concert pitch—sometimes by nearly as much as a quarter-tone.'