Scriabin Symphonies and Tone Poems
View record and artist detailsRecord and Artist Details
Composer or Director: Alexander Scriabin
Label: EMI
Magazine Review Date: 7/1991
Media Format: CD or Download
Media Runtime: 188
Mastering:
DDD
Catalogue Number: 754251-2
Tracks:
| Composition | Artist Credit |
|---|---|
| Symphony No. 1 |
Alexander Scriabin, Composer
Alexander Scriabin, Composer Michael Myers, Tenor Philadelphia Orchestra Riccardo Muti, Conductor, Bass Stefania Toczyska, Mezzo soprano Westminster Choir |
| Symphony No. 2 |
Alexander Scriabin, Composer
Alexander Scriabin, Composer Philadelphia Orchestra Riccardo Muti, Conductor, Bass |
| (Le) Poème de l'extase |
Alexander Scriabin, Composer
Alexander Scriabin, Composer Philadelphia Orchestra Riccardo Muti, Conductor, Bass |
| Symphony No. 3, 'Divine Poem' |
Alexander Scriabin, Composer
Alexander Scriabin, Composer Philadelphia Orchestra Riccardo Muti, Conductor, Bass |
| Prometheus, '(Le) poeme du feu' |
Alexander Scriabin, Composer
Alexander Scriabin, Composer Dmitri Alexeev, Piano Philadelphia Choral Arts Society Philadelphia Orchestra Riccardo Muti, Conductor, Bass |
Author: John Steane
There can be few more thrilling sounds on disc (and no more compelling reason for a totally sound-proofed listening room) than the climax to Muti's Poeme de l'extase. The clamour of bells here (both literal and imitative) reveals an essentially Russian heart at the core of this most cosmopolitan of Russian composers, and (at 17'51'') the maestoso proclamation of the theme of self assertion has the raised Philadelphia horns in crucially sharper focus than their New York rivals for Sinopoli (DG). The percussion peals more clearly too.
As in the corresponding climax in Prometheus (at 18'21''), this ''eclat sublime'' is filled out with a floor-shaking contribution from the organ. Like the organ, the wordless chorus at this point in Prometheus registers more as a device for enriching and exalting the texture, rather than as a striking new presence.
Muti's Prometheus (also available coupled with Tchaikovsky—see page 70) is, arguably, the most complete realization of the mind boggling demands of this score to have appeared to date. The inert opening (''Original chaos''—lovely pp bass drum!) and mysterious awakening have rarely sounded so atmospheric. Alexeev's first entry is not as strong willed as Ashkenazy's for Maazel (Decca), but he seems to be saving a more imperious attack for the same point in the recapitulation. It is possible to feel (as I did initially) that Muti and Alexeev are almost too relaxed in the work's first nine minutes; that the engineering is a touch too diffuse. But the stunning 1971 Maazel version was my introduction to this piece, and that is not as much spotlit as floodlit. Muti's builds so superbly: the imposing clash of states in the development (and the changes of tempo) charted with mighty assurance (beware of the ff dissonance at fig. 21, 10'23''!). Inbal (mid-price Philips), disappointingly, takes this stormy passage at more or less one tempo. And thereafter Muti's Prometheus is airborne, with Alexeev both agile and articulate in the ''Dance of Life'' (16'44''). The massive broadening in the final bars is not marked, but I'm not complaining.
Throughout the cycle, the tonal allure of the Philadelphia Orchestra is not matched by Inbal's late-1970s Frankfurt forces. But then, neither does Inbal challenge Muti's control of tempo and grasp of structure. Only in the Third Symphony, Le divin poeme, do Muti and the EMI team seem to be on less than their indomitable form. Compared with Pritchard (BBC/Pinnacle) and Sinopoli, the tempo relationships in the first movement don't convince, the birdsong and the potent brass interjections in the slow movement are subsumed in a heady wafting fragrance, and, in the finale, a certain urbanity replaces intensity of expression.
Being wary of introducing caution at this stage of the review, I should add that I don't expect to see this cycle seriously challenged for many a year. Taken as a whole it immeasurably enhances Scriabin's stature as a symphonist and offers the kind of playing and recording which, as recently as a decade ago, Scriabin enthusiasts could only have imagined in their dreams.'
As in the corresponding climax in Prometheus (at 18'21''), this ''eclat sublime'' is filled out with a floor-shaking contribution from the organ. Like the organ, the wordless chorus at this point in Prometheus registers more as a device for enriching and exalting the texture, rather than as a striking new presence.
Muti's Prometheus (also available coupled with Tchaikovsky—see page 70) is, arguably, the most complete realization of the mind boggling demands of this score to have appeared to date. The inert opening (''Original chaos''—lovely pp bass drum!) and mysterious awakening have rarely sounded so atmospheric. Alexeev's first entry is not as strong willed as Ashkenazy's for Maazel (Decca), but he seems to be saving a more imperious attack for the same point in the recapitulation. It is possible to feel (as I did initially) that Muti and Alexeev are almost too relaxed in the work's first nine minutes; that the engineering is a touch too diffuse. But the stunning 1971 Maazel version was my introduction to this piece, and that is not as much spotlit as floodlit. Muti's builds so superbly: the imposing clash of states in the development (and the changes of tempo) charted with mighty assurance (beware of the ff dissonance at fig. 21, 10'23''!). Inbal (mid-price Philips), disappointingly, takes this stormy passage at more or less one tempo. And thereafter Muti's Prometheus is airborne, with Alexeev both agile and articulate in the ''Dance of Life'' (16'44''). The massive broadening in the final bars is not marked, but I'm not complaining.
Throughout the cycle, the tonal allure of the Philadelphia Orchestra is not matched by Inbal's late-1970s Frankfurt forces. But then, neither does Inbal challenge Muti's control of tempo and grasp of structure. Only in the Third Symphony, Le divin poeme, do Muti and the EMI team seem to be on less than their indomitable form. Compared with Pritchard (BBC/Pinnacle) and Sinopoli, the tempo relationships in the first movement don't convince, the birdsong and the potent brass interjections in the slow movement are subsumed in a heady wafting fragrance, and, in the finale, a certain urbanity replaces intensity of expression.
Being wary of introducing caution at this stage of the review, I should add that I don't expect to see this cycle seriously challenged for many a year. Taken as a whole it immeasurably enhances Scriabin's stature as a symphonist and offers the kind of playing and recording which, as recently as a decade ago, Scriabin enthusiasts could only have imagined in their dreams.'
Scriabin Symphonies and Tone Poems
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