Riccardo Muti Scriabin

Muti and EMI make a good case for the oft-slighted Mahlerian-scale first symphony (in six movements mark you!). As a touchstone try playing the last two movements. The allegro has a strongly oxymoronic fusion of doom and endurance in its emphasis-accented undulating theme which Muti crowns superbly in the last two minutes of the movement. He is very close to Svetlanov in this. The finale's exalted hymn to art is wonderfully carried by the choir and the soloists and Michael Myers is outstanding.

Had he lived into the age of recordings instead of dying in 1915, Scriabin would no doubt have relished the idea of listening to a complete cycle of his own symphonic works. Of course, had he lived into the age of recordings, Scriabin would have added only one other work to his oeuvre – the Mysterium for soloists, choruses, and orchestras along with actors, dancers, perfumers, and light projector operators plus percussionists striking bells suspended from balloons – because, according to the composer, at the conclusion of the work's premiere, the world as we know it would have come to an end with the transfiguration of humanity, thereby foreclosing further opportunities for listening to recordings.

Tchaikovsky’s Sixth Symphony, universally known as the Pathétique, is among the most deeply moving and profound of all works. An enduring masterwork which Tchaikovsky considered to be his greatest composition. Once again the struggle against ‘fate’ is central to this symphony which was to be the last Tchaikovsky wrote. The première took place in October 1893 at St. Petersburg and just eight days later the composer was dead. Few farewells in music are more poignant.

The Fourth Symphony was written at a particularly crucial point in Tchaikovsky’s life. 1877 was not only the year of his disastrous marriage but also the year in which he began his fifteen-year correspondence with his patroness Nadezhda von Meck. The F minor Symphony has always been a popular work with its muscular and melodic writing. Infused throughout the score is the sense of ‘fate’ which Tchaikovsky believed controlled his destiny as he described in a letter to Madame von Meck, “the fateful force which prevents the impulse to happiness from achieving its goal … which hangs above your head like the sword of Damocles.”

The five movement Second Symphony is gloomily introspective but Muti again propels it along. There are some Rachmaninov-like moments in the allegro and wistfulness in the andante. Much of the doom carries over from the Manfred / Francesca tribute from Tchaikovsky and ploughs inexorably forward in the earlier symphonies of Miaskovsky. The Maestoso has a straining grandeur which takes a little from Glazunov - say in the finale of the Eighth symphony.

The Third Symphony is in a more conventional three movements: Luttes, Voluptes and Jeu Divin. The same interpretative qualities apply as to the first two numbered symphonies. The Jeu movement moves a long at a smartish clip. Muti makes a good case for the work although its thematic material is rather slender. Outstanding work again from the Philadelphia brass choir.

Riccardo Muti, Cavaliere di Gran Croce OMRI (born July 28, 1941) is an Italian conductor. In May 2008 he was appointed the 10th music director of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, effective with the 2010-11 season.With Philadelphia, his recordings include the first Beethoven Symphony Cycle made for compact disc, the symphonies of Johannes Brahms and Alexander Scriabin, selected works of Tchaikovsky and Sergei Prokofiev, as well as less-known works of composers such as Giacomo Puccini and Ferruccio Busoni.

This Scriabin set is one of the finer offerings in Universal's Trio series. Vladimir Ashkenazy's crisp phrasing and lean orchestral sonorities contrast markedly with the lush appointments of Riccardo Muti's cycle, which relies heavily on the voluptuous sound of the Philadelphia Orchestra to make its effect. In this regard Muti scores over Ashkenazy in the First symphony, where the Russian conductor's crisp, no-nonsense approach sounds comparatively restrained (especially the highly emotive second movement). But the tables turn in Symphony No. 2. Here Ashkenazy's clarity and focus give much needed shape and rhythmic definition to this music, which tends to meander in Muti's hands. The finale is a perfect example: muscle with Ashkenazy; mush with Muti.