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Piano Concerto
No.1 in F-sharp minor, Op. 1, NAXOS
Historical 8.110602 Piano Concerto
No.2 in C minor, Op. 18 NAXOS
Historical 8.110601 |
SERGEI
RACHMANINOV piano
The Philadephia Orchestra
conducted by Eugene Ormandy/Leopold Stokowski
by Jonathan Yungkans
Sergei Rachmanonov was extremely proud to be the first composer to have all his works for piano and orchestra recorded for posterity, and for many years, these recordings have been of immeasurable historical and interpretive benefit for performers and listeners alike. What is truly frightening, however, is how close posterity came to not having it.
In his article "Arms of Steel, Heart of Gold" in the Spring 2000 issue of International Piano Quarterly, Robert Matthew-Walker credits the Great Depression and a disastrous change in management at RCA, where Rachmaninov was signed as a recording artist, with an enforced hiatus in his recording activities. The composer made no recordings between 1930 and the end of 1934, and only a few for the rest of the decade - when he was at the peak of his performing powers, adding new repertoire, and still a reasonably popular artist, even with the arrival of Vladimir Horowitz on the musical scene.
A
"Rachmaninov Cycle" mounted by the Philadelphia Orchestra at
the end of 1939 finally persuaded RCA to take advantage of the situation
by recording the composer as soloist with the Philadelphia in the First
and Third Concertos, as well as conductor in his Third Symphony. Without
this turn of events, posterity would have been left only with Rachmaninov
playing his Second Concerto and Paganini Rhapsody. RCA probably would
have passed on his recording the Fourth Concerto, which was neither a
favorite of critics nor the public, without the impetus of completing
the set.
In all five recordings, Rachmaninov is in splendid form despite the disparate recording dates of the set - the Second Concerto in 1929, the Paganini Rhapsody in 1934, the First and Third Concertos in 1939 (with some retakes in 1940) and the Fourth in 1941 - showing not only a wonderful consistency but a remarkably high benchmark for other pianists to follow. Of equally high caliber is the playing of the Philadelphia Orchestra, under Leopold Stokowski in the Second Concerto and Paganini Rhapsody, and his successor Eugene Ormandy in the other three works.
Moreover, the Naxos transfers, supervised by Marc Obert-Thorn, are easily the cleanest, best sounding ones made from these masters. They easily supplant the RCA CD and LP transfers made for the Rachmaninov centenary set, and set as high a standard for digital restoration as the players do in music making. If you had any doubts about purchasing these recordings because of the sonic limitations of historical recordings, then fear no more. There is some tracking noise, and the Second Concerto is recorded at a slightly lower level than the other works, but these challenges have been effectively minimized and the ear soon adapts to these conditions. The rewards are piano and orchestral playing second to none.
Rachmaninov plays the Second Concerto with a clear sense of forward momentum, giving the music a compelling pulse even as it is allowed to unfold naturally. He never drives the music, and sometimes emphasizes details in ways not used today. He plays the low F notes in the opening chords as grace notes, giving the chords a spring that would at first seem to dispel their bell-like tolling, but which gives the strings greater impact when they announce the opening theme. He also gives an object lesson in the tasteful use of rubato in making the second theme of the first movement breathe with charm, mystery and passion without sacrificing the overall sense of forward movement. Stokowski's accompaniment is equally riveting, both virile and sensitive, with wonderful solo playing and incredibly expressive string ensemble work.
Their next collaboration, the Paganini Rhapsody, was recorded in one session on Christmas Eve 1934. It carries a sweep and electricity that is still compelling today. Throughout the work, Rachmaninov's combination of power, virtuosity, sensitivity and magical variety of touch are incredible to hear, as though the popular affirmation of the piece had revitalized his recreative powers as well as bolstered his confidence as a composer. Stokowski and the Philadelphia match him note for note, with colors and phrasings that bring out every nuance in the score and add immeasurably to its tonal allure.
This
was the one concerto recording RCA allowed Rachmaninov to make between
1930 and 1939. According to Matthew-Walker, Charles O'Connell, who served
as head of artist and repertoire development at RCA from 1930 to 1941,
did not care for Rachmaninov as an artist or a composer, and vetoed numerous
recording proposals. Fortunately, O'Connell attended the Baltimore, Maryland
premiere of the Rhapsody on November 7, 1934. Witnessing the sensational
response to the new work for himself, he realized the economic import
of recording such an immediately popular composition as soon as possible.
Eugene Ormandy had become music director in Philadelphia by the time Rachmaninov made his next concerto recordings, but proved as excellent a collaborator as Stokowski had been. The First Concerto opens with an aural peal of thunder from the brass and a lightning flash of passagework by the soloist. Ormandy produces an extraordinarily sultry tone from the strings, and he and Rachmaninov play the more relaxed moments of this piece, by turns, as broodingly, yearning and erotically as this music has ever come across, while the faster sections are galvanizing in their intensity. No one makes a better case for this neglected work, and very few recordings have come close to matching it.
Later the same day, Rachmaninov, Ormandy and the Philadelphia turned their attention to the Third Concerto. However, the Third Concerto proved a more problematical recording.
Rachmaninov had played the Third Concerto for nearly 30 years with little popular success, and felt that Horowitz and Walter Gieseking both played the work better than he did. The negative reaction to the original version of his Fourth Concerto in 1927 was an equally stunning blow, almost as severe as that suffered at the premiere of his First Symphony in 1897. The resulting lack of confidence prompted him to make cuts in several of his works, including the Third Concerto, in an attempt to make them more palatable to audiences at that time.
What is worse, by the time he recorded the Third Concerto in 1939, he had made even more excisions than when he performed the work in concert earler that decade. This self-mutilation, which can be painful to hear at times, was not prompted by any space issues on the original 78's, but probably out of insecurity. Matthew-Walker notes that the recording was issued with a blank side, and that music excised in 1939 could have been accommodated easily.
The recording conditions did not help matters, either. As Matthew-Walker points out, O'Connell would interrupt artists with a buzzer during takes, and this, plus his general dislike for Rachmaninov's music, put an undue strain on the composer. Eventually, Rachmaninov slammed his hands on the keyboard and declared, "I cannot play this way" - this from the man who normally did not display emotion in performance other than in his playing. Ormandy suggested a break, during which he worked out a compromise with O'Connell. A light, which only Ormandy would see, would warn him that the producer needed another take. Rachmaninov agreed, and the session proceeded a little more smoothly - or so it seemed.
Rachmaninov's
unease is fully mirrored in this recording. The opening tempo is extremely
swift, and there is a relentless drive to the overall playing, as if to
get as many notes down as possible before the buzzer sounded one more
time. This plus the cuts make the recording less satisfactory than it
could have been, especially when compared to Horowitz's recording with
Alfred Coates and the London Symphony Orchestra made eight years earlier,
or Gieseking's 1940 aircheck with Willem Mengelberg and the Concertgebouw
Orchestra.
Nevertheless, there are some interesting touches. The piano-and-orchestra passage beginning at 5:44 and leading into the cadenza is built up with incredible tension and sizzles with demonic energy. Matching Rachmaninov's playing, Ormandy lets out all the stops from 7:08 to the climax at 7:31; the result is one of those Technicolor moments of high drama for which Stokowski was famous, with some of the most harrowing, edge-of-your-chair playing Ormandy secured from the orchestra. This alone is worth the price of the disc.
Rachmaninov's final recording with Ormandy and the Phialdelphia was the revised version of his Fourth Concerto. This was a work with which the composer was never fully satisfied, even after revising it; he continued to tinker with the orchestration immediately before the recording session, with many of these changes never printed in the score, and lamented that he did not find the time to reorchestrate the work to his satisfaction. Despite this, Rachmaninov displayed enough conviction in this composition to record his performance of it.
That performance could nearly be called definitive. The variety of color, touch and chiaroscuro that the composer brings out of the solo part is enough to make one's jaw drop, and the Concerto becomes a much more multi-faceted and complex composition than in many others' hands. Ormandy's accompaniment, despite some gaffes in the opening fanfare, is first-rate; full-blooded and committed, it shows how much this work benefits from a dedicated conductor and orchestra, and how much it can suffer without them. The Finale, following the Largo without a pause, is a model of panache and conviction.
Altogether, these are performances that no lover of Rachmaninov's music should be without, especially at Naxos' price. Eventually, they are supposed to remaster Rachmanoinov's superlative outings as conductor in the Third Symphony, Isle of the Dead and Vocalise. Hopefully, they will also get to some of his solo recordings, as well. Until then, these discs will do very nicely. Thank you very much, Naxos.
Bibliography:
1. Matthew-Walker, Robert, "Arms of Steel, Heart of Gold," International
Piano Quarterly, No. 11 (Spring 2000).
Jonathan
Yungkans loves all four Rachmaninov piano concertos, but his all-time
favorite is the Fourth. Now if Martha Argerich would only record it …
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