For whatever reason, Mravinsky and the Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra only sporadically found their way to the west, whether on record or in the flesh. The consequence has been a sketchy picture of one of the most important centres of orchestral excellence in modern times: and the further consequence of that has been their elevation in some quarters to something approaching cult status.
These new issues should go some way towards putting that right, even if it means modifying unrealistic assessments of Mravinsky's infallibility. The outstanding technical qualities of the orchestra, the passionate individualism of the wind and brass, the corporate unity of purpose in the strings, the trumpets' ability to overload a recording at 100 paces (I exaggerate, but only a little), are all captured in vivid close-up. Mravinsky's own characteristic intensity reveals unexpected qualities in much of his chosen repertoire, and even if this occasionally seems questionable on stylistic grounds it should still be valued as documentation of a very special kind of mastery.
Philips have undoubtedly landed the prize catch. The 1981 recording quality, despite changing perspectives, an odd decay on the full orchestral tutti and the tendency for the Russian balance engineers to stick a microphone under the nostrils of any solo instrument, is noticeably more refined than that of earlier vintages. Mravinsky's Prokofiev is far more pointed in rhythm, more heart-rending at the emotional peaks, than the Previn (EMI), Ozawa (DG) and Maazel (Decca) versions of the complete ballet I reviewed in February, and it approaches the unrivalled Supraphon Ancerl (long overdue for re-release); The Nutcracker excerpts, avoiding all the familiar numbers from the usual suite, are if anything still more entrancing, idiomatic throughout and overwhelming at the emotional peaks.
With many of the Olympia issues a certain amount of rough has to be taken with the smooth. Turning the volume down is the first requirement since the transfers have generally been made at a very high level. Allowance then has to be made for mono sound in the Tannhauser Overture and for imperfectly blended orchestral textures in the Bruckner Ninth. But how right Olympia were to include these performances—the dramatic tension of the Overture is awesomely sustained, the emotion in the symphony unaccustomedly close to the surface, enriching our experience of the works even if we choose to turn elsewhere for more comprehensive accounts. It is particularly interesting to hear a Russian accent revealing an unexpected kinship between Bruckner's Scherzo and Trio and Shostakovich and Tchaikovsky, respectively.
The Prelude and Liebestod demonstrates Mravinsky's characteristic approach to dynamic markings—either scrupulously observed or completely reversed, but always with sharply-etched contour and precise motivation. The atmospheric Mussorgsky and rather feeble Liadov are worthwhile makeweights, but record-buyers might well wonder how the Tchaikovsky Fifth could surpass the 1961 DG version remastered on CD (reviewed 8/87). In terms of fanatical intensity I suppose it doesn't but the sense of all the tempos being provisional, in a state of becoming, the emotionalism caught on the wing, the penitence coming over the slow movement, the smile of the scherzo freezing into anxiety, all these things are so memorably conveyed I am rather inclined to prefer it.
Strauss's Eine Alpensinfonie is ardent to the point of fierceness, and this is one performance which really would have benefited from some studio retakes, not least to enable the brass to tune properly to the organ. There are also problems with the Bartok and Stravinsky—false entries, rhythmical instability and so on—which suggest less than total familiarity with the scores. Much as the intensity of the Music for strings and the pungency of Agon appeal, I cannot feel that these are sufficient compensation. To my surprise and disappointment I found myself entertaining similar thoughts about the Shostakovich Fifteenth, despite wonderful violin solos and many profound insights into the dark recesses of this masterpiece. And whilst I know Mravinsky's Sibelius Seventh has its admirers I confess to finding it misconceived, both in its tampering with the text and its sentimental and destructive shifts of tempo. I think what I am saying is that it would be dangerous to recommend any of these as 'single-choice' purchases. But if your eye has alighted on this last paragraph of my review before the rest, do please refer back, and believe me that all these discs enshrine music-making of an extraordinary dedication and power. More of the same would do the record catalogues no harm at all.'