Easily the finest account of Khachaturian’s Piano Concerto since Moura Lympany’s pioneering recording under Fistoulari (Decca, 3/53 – nla), this new version on ASV is the one to have. Dora Serviarian-Kuhn and her Armenian compatriot, Loris Tjeknavorian are in every way first-class: both identify naturally with the sinuous oriental flavour of the melodic lines and understand – as did Lympany and, in America in 1946, William Kapell (RCA, 5/95) – that the outer movements need above all to convey thrusting vitality. (Remember that the first Moscow performance – which delighted the composer – was by the Russian virtuoso, Lev Oborin.) Here there is plenty of drive and rhythmic lift in the outer movements. But what primarily makes this performance memorable is Serviarian-Kuhn’s sense of fantasy, so that her various cadential passages, for all their brilliance, are charismatically quixotic rather than just bravura displays. The recording projects the piano with a bright, clean treble and the orchestral sound is somewhat lean-textured, which adds an appropriate edge to the reading.
The opening movement of the Piano Concerto (unlike the corresponding movement in the Violin Concerto) is not Khachaturian at his best, and can too easily sound inflated, as it does in the very romantic performance on Decca by Alicia de Larrocha and Raphael Fruhbeck de Burgos. The effect is compounded by sumptuous orchestral sound (provided by the Decca engineers) and the glowing pianistic colours that Larrocha has so readily to hand. The musicians are very wayward at the beginning, and although there is no doubt that their slow movement is evocative and sultry, it reflects more southern landscapes than the composer would have expected, and the flexotone wails like a banshee. The finale is agreeably jaunty, but the Armenian performance has much more dash.
Ricci’s account of the Violin Concerto is most enjoyable. His bravura is totally unselfconscious so that the predominating feeling is lyrical; although the finale is certainly not without energy and fire, the effect here is surprisingly intimate. The unforgettable Armenian lyrical melody (I couldn’t stop humming it for days) which dominates the first movement and returns in the finale, is sinuously ardent. Fistoulari, who conducted the work’s London premiere, knows his stuff. I enjoyed this performance very much; it has real spontaneity and the early (July 1956) stereo is surprisingly full and smooth. The Masquerade Suite could hardly be better played: the LSO sparkle spontaneously and Stanley Black is obviously completely at home. The Second Symphony was composed two years after the Violin Concerto but isn’t in the same league. Its symphonic argument is difficult to perceive, and if the scoring is spectacular, the result is empty. Even so, the sheer conviction of the composer’s interpretation is endearing when the Decca engineers provide such overwhelmingly lush sound.
The other works which accompany the Piano Concerto on ASV are very small beer. The “Waltz” for wind band has an engaging carousel flavour; the somewhat vulgar “Polka” which follows roisterously suggests the circus. The Dance Suite goes through the usual Khachaturian routines with which he likes to clothe his agreeable but at times rather insubstantial Armenian folk ideas. Easily the most memorable movement is the first and much the longer of the two Uzbek dances, which begins and opens gently and touchingly: the reprise, with its haunting cor anglais solo, has a genial Nordic feeling. The closing “Lezghinka”, too, is rather jolly, but repetitive. Excellent performances, vividly projected.'