Sir Georg’s Petrushka (his first on disc) is a rather morose creature who dies hard. The crowds at the Shrove-tide Fair lumber about to a powerful bass line; Solti keeps both tempo and rhythm steady while Decca’s clinically explicit Symphony Hall recording grants high percussion and big drums front-of-stage status (don’t forget this is the 1911 score). Inter-scene drum rolls have bruising impact, but the bassoon raspberries at 5'20'' are po-faced and a generally upbeat “Russian Dance” lacks humour (and why the unfocused strings at 7'47''?). Enter Petrushka’s Cell and the tension mounts, while the Moor’s Room harbours dark secrets: minor imprecisions suggest shabby decor and one senses gangsters lurking somewhere in the background (note the unusually savage brass interjection at 1'50''). Here, as elsewhere, the emphasis lies more on beefcake-style aggression than on pathos; the “Fete populaire” is rather foggy (woodwinds tend to avoid the limelight), although the dance sequences leading to Petrushka’s Death have a heavy, big-screen impact that makes the Death itself – a rather poignant interpretation – doubly effective. Viewed overall, Solti’s Petrushka parades a hapless innocent in a violent community. Although fiftully impressive, it none the less suggests little of the fun, colour or schizoid temperament that lies at the very heart of this great score. In my book, Chailly’s recent Royal Concertgebouw recording (of the 1947 version) is better on most counts (the sound is superb and the playing generally superior), while Abbado, Dutoit (with the LSO), Bernstein (with the NYPO) and Rosbaud (Philips, 11/63 – nla) top the list for vivid characterization.
Solti seems rather better suited to the tougher, less quixotic world of Jeu de cartes. The first deal’s “Dance of the Joker” has real panache, while the ‘march with variations’ second deal is nicely pointed and the score’s closing moments build to a fine crescendo. Still, even here there are a few executive blemishes – especially at 30 seconds or so into the opening movement, where scrappy ensemble is momentarily distracting. Otherwise, both these live performances attest to Sir Georg’s unflagging energy, a heartening state of affairs even though, in all honesty, neither would rate particularly high in a comparative assessment.
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