Piotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893)
The Voyevoda, Op. 78 (1890-91)
La tempête, Op. 18 (1873, rev. 1888)
Overture & Polonaise from Cherevichki (1885)
Francesca da Rimini, Op. 32 (1876) BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra/Alpesh Chauhan
rec. 2022, City Halls, Glasgow, UK
Chandos CHSA5300 SACD [78]
This well-filled CD presents a collection of orchestral pieces unified by the idea of the free-form fantasia, often involving the magical and supernatural, showcasing Tchaikovsky’s mastery of grand-scale orchestration and demonstrating his love of alternating passages of menacing mood with those of a ravishing lyricism.
It is difficult to understand Tchaikovsky’s disdain for the first – but last composed – item in this recital; according to the notes, he actually wanted it destroyed, declaring, “such rubbish should never have been written”. The listener may be diverted by speculating about the biographical circumstances determining the composer’s rejection of such an evidently beautifully crafted piece – subtitled “Symphonic Ballad after Mickiewicz” – but it is certainly not worthy of his despisal. It is further distinguished by being the first piece to feature the celesta before that instrument became universally associated with the Sugar Plum Fairy in The Nutcracker. The surging passion of the love music is as almost as good as similar, more celebrated items by Tchaikovsky in the same vein and the climactic gunshot depicting the Voyevoda’s deserved demise is a highly effective dramatic coup; Tchaikovsky packs a lot into a mere twelve minutes.
The opening to The Tempest is very impressionistic and atmospheric, as if Tchaikovsky was anticipating a later genre – but also to some degree borrowing from works such as Mendelssohn’s The Hebrides and the sea music in Verdi’s contemporaneous Simon Boccanegra – and the storm section is vintage Tchaikovsky.
I have not yet commented upon the interpretative factor here – but that is because it is so good that I find myself forgetting about any such considerations. On reflection, it is indisputable that the conductor and orchestra are ideal interpreters of this mercurial music, alive to every nuance and inflection. These are wild, free accounts in the best way: not ill-disciplined but constantly thrilling and released, happily indulging in rubato and rallentando; the playing is really superb. Comparison with accounts of The Tempest on my shelves by Svetlanov and Lazarev, good as they are, reveals the superiority of this new one in terms of recorded sound, instrumental balance and interpretative nuance and variety. The opening of Chauhan’s recording, for example, conveys so much more mystery and grandeur than they manage to do, and many more details emerge as his reading proceeds.
The overture for Cherevichki – otherwise known as Oksana’s Caprices or The Slippers, “comic fantastic Opera in Four Acts” – is not as coherent and compelling, I think, as the other works here – indeed, I find it rather banal in places – but it is given the best possible advocacy; there are some admirable contributions from the BBC Scottish soloists and it culminates in the most rousing of conclusions. The Polonaise is a lesser cousin to those we encounter in Eugene Onegin, in that it is not as melodically memorable but is once more rousingly played.
Francesca da Rimini is subtitled “Symphonic Fantasia after Dante”. For me, any recording of Tchaikovsky’s first masterpiece must be measured against Stokowski’s stunning account with the “New York Stadium Symphony Orchestra” (in reality, the New York Philharmonic); the comparison is by no means invidious, as the depth of the typically flawless Chandos sound enhances the impact of the orchestral playing here and the swirling storm passages emerge with startling power. Every instrument may be heard without any unnatural highlighting and I am so glad that there is no hint of holding back in the conducting and playing for fear of sounding “vulgar”. The plight of the tormented, errant lovers forever trapped within a whirlwind is so vividly depicted that this now becomes my favourite modern version. The plangent clarinet solo at the start of track twelve is most elegantly delivered and the love music heaves and sighs, building to an overwhelming climax. Again, Chauhan’s control of phrasing is masterly – unfailingly musical with any fussy point-making and the coda caps an electrifying performance.
This is my first encounter with this conductor’s work and on this basis I shall be looking out for another opportunity to hear him, either live or recorded.
The full, trilingual notes by David Nice offer helpful background and guidance to appreciating the music, including a brief programme for The Tempest, an extract of the relevant terza rima text from Canto V of Dante’s The Divine Comedy with an English translation, and information about the conductor and orchestra.
Ralph Moore
Help us financially by purchasing from
