Khachaturian Symphony 3 Beermann cpo 7779732

Aram Khachaturian (1903-1978)
Symphony No 3 “Simfoniya A-Poema” (1947)
Suite No 3 from the Ballet Gayaneh (1942/3)
Robert-Schumann-Philharmonie/Frank Beermann
rec. 2015 Groβer Saal, Stadthalle Chemnitz, Germany
cpo 777 973-2 [54]

cpo’s cycle of the complete Khatchaturian Symphonies announced in 2016 lumbers its way to Volume 2 just seven years later. This new volume was actually recorded some six months before Vol. 1 which was reviewed on MWI here. In that review Michael Wilkinson passingly referenced the Symphony No.3 given here as “dreadful” so readers of refined tastes and delicate sensibilities might want to look away now. In modern parlance perhaps this is a work requiring “trigger warnings” as listeners might find the content offensive or disturbing. Because make no mistake this twenty-five minute work premiered on Christmas Day 1947 in the gathering storm of the Zhdanov Decree is about as unsubtle, indeed crude, as music can get. But in all its gaudy glory, in performances that embrace and do not excuse the bombast, this can be a spectacular experience. On paper the scoring is nothing remarkable, a very standard double wind and brass plus a couple of extras. However¸literally looming over the orchestra are fifteen additional fanfare trumpets – at the first performance in a line across the concert hall behind the orchestra, plus a large concert organ. The presence of these instruments dominates every aspect of the work – for good or ill – and recordings of the work likewise tend to succeed or fail by the contributions from these departments.

This new recording made live in early December 2015 actually handles these elements pretty well. The “live” environment I imagine was dictated by the mitigating cost of recording such an inflated work in association with concert performances. The playing is predictably good and the audience, an occasional cough apart, sit in presumably stunned silence – there is no applause which I assume was edited out rather than being wholly absent…. Over the years there have been four other main/studio versions; Kondrashin/Moscow PO/Melodiya; Stokowski/Chicago SO/RCA; Tjeknavorian/Armenian PO/ASV and Gluschenko/BBC PO/Chandos. So for the ‘new’ listener, where does this recent version sit in the pantheon? Simply put, not the worst but no-where near the best. The listener’s experience of this work is so dictated by the sound and impact of the fanfare trumpets and organ that everything else is secondary. Stokowski is oddly, surprisingly underwhelming with “nice” trumpets (you do not want nice in this work) and an organ that seems to have spliced a chamber keyboard to too closely recorded out-sized pedals. Tjeknavorian’s Armenian players are certainly in the old Soviet tradition with that bit of blare and bite in the trumpets, but the recording generally is a bit ‘flat’ and Tjeknavorian makes a series of cuts that do not seem to have any authority which for me rules the recording out. For a modern recording Gluschenko is easily the best technically with exciting trumpets and a big dynamic organ – this recording was made as far back as 1994 in Leeds Town Hall which proved to be an ideal space and acoustic for this kind of work. Which leaves Kondrashin, released in 1975, with the Bolshoi Theatre Trumpeters Ensemble bolstering the Moscow PO ranks. This is by far the most exciting, most idiomatic, most convincing version. Even the old analogue Melodiya engineering which teeters on the edge of overload and collapse somehow adds to the audio experience. Hard copies of the CD can be difficult to find but I have seen this recording downloadable cheaply.

So having accepted that Frank Beermann and his skilled Robert-Schumann-Philharmonie are no equal for Kondrashin, the rest is slightly academic. There is a major part for the organ with an extended solo near the beginning of the work which is about as near to a “mad organist” passage as any in the classical music repertoire. The fine German player here is sadly uncredited. Beermann’s trumpets are secure but lacking that weight and attack the old Soviet players did automatically. Once the opening gestures from trumpets and organ have passed, Khachaturian writes one of those smouldering melodies for which he was famous – the “Onedin Line” Adagio of Spartacus and Phrygia the most popular. Here the Robert-Schumann-Philharmonie strings play this with attractive weight and flexibility but when towards the end of the work the trumpets hijack the same theme and turn it into a stamping folkdance the machismo brass do not overwhelm as they should. Perhaps the most bizarre aspect of the work is the ending. It is rather like a serious version of Malcolm Arnold’s Grand Grand Overture which “tries” to end about five different ways. Khachaturian does the same here; you think you have finally reached a tonic resolution and off it goes again. This is where Tjeknavorian made one of his cuts – some would argue judiciously I am sure. Only in Kondrashin’s hands does this come anywhere close to working, even Gluschenko and the hardworking BBC PO run out ideas, as does Beermann.

The coupling is good but ultimately unlikely to sway the listener who came for the symphony and stayed for the ballet suite. Aside from the Stokowski which currently is only part of a big Stokowski/RCA box, all the other 3 versions have more enticing couplings; Kondrashin a fine and firey Piano Concerto, Tjeknavorian the only current version of Symphony No.1 and Gluschenko the apt/companion Triumphal Poem plus a well-played if slightly anachronistic Ippolitov-Ivanov Caucasian Sketches. The complete Gayeneh Ballet probably shows Khachaturian doing what he did best most consistently; attractive and idiomatic melodies dressed in colourful orchestral garb with exciting rhythms and memorable tunes. There are various suites drawn from the full ballet but quite often conductors/labels choose their own selections. Here Beermann sticks with the “official” Suite No.3 which means we get the most famous Sabre Dance – in a vibrant and exciting performance that just wobbles a fraction in ensemble – as well as the toe-tapping Gopak, sinuously seductive Carpet-making and ear-tickling Dance of the Youth. The suite concludes with the Gopak which is again well-played and engaging but the piece itself has the odd quality of ending on what sounds like an unresolved chord – in the complete work I believe it is a sequence of folk dances which lead on from one to another. Here the suite, and indeed the disc, ends up in the air in a slightly unconvincing manner. Which indeed is the ultimate verdict on this disc. Oddly, the more convincing suite detracts from the value of the whole disc. Perhaps coupling this with Symphony No 1 might have been a more attractive proposition.

The liner was perhaps written when the music was recorded as it harks back to earlier times when the liner-note writers for the label seemed intent on being verbose and convoluted. Once you can untangle the prose, there is actually a lot of usual information about the works. The engineering and orchestral playing is as good as we have come to expect from this label, but ultimately that is not enough to save this from mid-table mediocrity. Likewise, the modest playing-time of the disc as a whole hardly helps the cause. Khachaturian’s Symphony No 3 does require a special performance from special players to save it from itself – a point Kondrashin triumphantly makes and Beermann does not.

Nick Barnard

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