Neo-classical Stravinsky, at his wittiest in Jeu de cartes and at his purest in Orpheus. A new recording of the latter is to be welcomed with open arms. For some time now the choice has been restricted to the composer's own 1964 account (Sony Classical, part of a three-disc set containing the later ballets, including Jeu de cartes) and the fine 1979 recording from John Lubbock and the Orchestra of St John's Smith Square (ASV). A curious imbalance with new versions of the early ballets arriving monthly; though understandably not everyone responds to its cool, remote manner, its ''mimed song'' (Stravinsky's own words), and the fact that, in half an hour's duration, the music only rises above mezzo-forte for a matter of seconds.
Stravinsky's own recording is often strikingly expressive; it's almost as if he was aware that the music would have only minority appeal. Textures are full and vigorous, his own markings amended, and a rich string sonority is established at the start. Lubbock's smaller complement of strings and fidelity to the score, in contrast, invest the opening pages with an other-worldly stillness. For all the subtlety and delicacy, though, one soon craves a firmer tone. Enter Jarvi (you guessed) who respects the score's purity without ever seeming detached, who has an orchestra capable of lightness of touch and tone without sounding undernourished, and a recording balance that manages intimacy, transparency and depth. A wider dynamic range, too, than the composer's own, crucial for the brief moment of triple forte as Orpheus meets his death in the penultimate scene. To throw a very small spanner in the works, I should add that the Royal Concertgebouw violins are not always as confident as we might expect, and that the string basses have a tendency to boom. However, I have been listening to DAT, and experience suggests that, compared to CD, the medium warms up the lower frequencies.
The bass drum certainly makes its presence felt in Jarvi's Jeu de cartes, a reading of grace, humour, and in the final 'deal', tremendous agility. A reading of high contrasts as well: after his wildly exuberant Joker has burst into the first scene, Jarvi treats us to a coda lovingly phrased in his best lilting waltz manner. Abbado (mid-price DG, coupled with a cherishable Pulcinella) remains unsurpassed in the pointing of accents and sforzandos, but remastering reveals overbright violins. And Jarvi's concluding scene is a real tour de force—swifter than both Abbado and the composer without loss of rhythmic definition. A very desirable disc.'