Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893)
Symphony No. 6 in B minor, Op. 74 (Pathétique) (1893)
Aram Khachaturian (1903-1978)
Violin Concerto (1940)
Leonid Kogan (violin)
Boston Symphony Orchestra/Pierre Monteux
rec. 1955/58, Symphony Hall, Boston
Gramola 92009 [79]

Gramola’s intent, in its Ikonen series, is to revive and preserve worthy recordings of the past — specifically, the early stereo period, based on the first chunk of releases. It’s certainly a laudable aim in terms of the “documentary imperative,” though I’m not sure the Karajan/Vienna Decca recordings necessarily merit this treatment — even the highly touted Zarathustra‘s strikes me as nothing special, superseded by his more colourful remakes. But it’s hard to quarrel with Fritz Reiner’s Pictures at an Exhibition and New World Symphony, or with the present release, which combines the contents of two separate LPs.

It’s a pleasure to hear the oft-abused Pathétique played with a modicum of restraint. Monteux shapes the phrases expressively without sacrificing rigour, even allowing a few impulsive surges. In the first movement, string attacks are incisive and unified, and the second subject goes with a dignified, noble tread; the development is perhaps marginally less clean than the ultra-clear exposition.

The five-beat Allegro con grazia — a waltz with a “hitch” — ideally combines elegance and warm tone, even if Monteux’s no-nonsense tempo feels a smidge fast in the mournful “B” section. His tempo for the march, on the other hand, allows for weight without sacrificing drive, becoming still more emphatic in the final iterations’ the brass-choir attacks are unusually alert. The string phrases launching the Finale are, properly, an anguished, full-throated outpouring rather than the wilting swoon favoured by some more recent conductors. And what a pleasure to hear such clarity in the second subject: the tied-over horn triplets crisp rather than mushy, while, over them, the strings phrase with clear purpose.

The early-stereo recording comes up with vivid presence and clear imaging; you can even sense, more than hear,  the contrabassoon in one of the Finale‘s chorales. Monteux’s separation of the first and second violins can produce a real room-filling effect. On the down side, some of the trumpet solos sound as if they were “pasted onto” the overall sonic frame: Roger Voisin’s pressed vibrato hardly wanted the added scrutiny. The quietest pizzicati don’t really register, and I don’t hear the Symphony Hall acoustic coming into play.

You do hear the hall after the closing chord of the Khachaturian concerto, from three years later. This score isn’t the subtlest imaginable. The orchestral climax of the central Andante sostenuto not only is distractingly Hollywoodish, but points up a problem with Khachaturian’s tuttis: everyone is playing  forthrightly, but somehow the sonority still isn’t full, or completely filled-in. And, at the concerto’s end, the composer bangs away at D major rather too many times — like Dvořák, but not as good.

As such, the piece is odd casting for Monteux. As always, his musicianship is exemplary: he keeps the orchestra with his racing soloist in the Finale, and holds everything else in good order elsewhere. In the first movement, the relaxation between themes is precisely gauged, and the clarinet’s back-and-forth with the violin has a nice fantasy. But gracious elegance isn’t quite what this music needs: Mehta, on Perlman’s EMI recording, has the Israel Philharmonic revelling in the splashy colours as the patrician Bostonians can’t or won’t. (Even so, the unison chalumeau clarinets in the Andante, as so often, sound out of tune.)  Only the Finale‘s brassy outbursts bring anything like the required brio.

Leonid Kogan’s clear tone has a lovely, seemingly effortless purity in the topmost range, but his soft-edged attacks serve up the opposite of David Oistrakh’s hard sell. The musicality of Kogan’s phrasing is undeniable, but, despite some bracing tempi — especially in the Finale, where he rushes some of the passagework — the energy feels restricted. And, while all the passagework is accurately placed, it feels “runny”: not slurry, not inaccurate, but wanting sharper rhythmic address.

I’d thought I’d be praising this for the concerto, but it’s the restored Pathétique that takes the prize. It happens.

Stephen Francis Vasta

stevedisque.wordpress.com/blog

Buying this recording via a link below generates revenue for MWI, which helps the site remain free