Dvorak Fischer

Dvorák’s Violin Concerto has been undergoing a renaissance of sorts on disc, one that it entirely deserves. Its critics (starting with Joachim and Brahms) dismissed it for not adopting the usual sonata-form first movement structure, instead welding the truncated opening to the gorgeous slow movement. But really, how many violin concertos are there where you can really say that the best, most characterful and highly developed movement is the finale? And what could possibly be bad about that? Clearly Fischer and Suwanai understand where the music’s going: the performance gathers steam as it proceeds, and really cuts loose in that marvelous last movement. Suwani displays a characteristically polished technique and fine intonational ear (lending a lovely purity of utterance to the slow movement), but she’s not afraid to indulge in some “down and dirty” gypsy fiddling in the finale, or in the two Sarasate items that open the program.

One of the most prominent Hungarian conductors of his generation, Ivan Fischer has established a reputation in both Hungarian and Baroque music. His interpretations of works by Liszt, Bartók, and Kodály have achieved international acclaim, and his readings of Hungarian-inspired works, like the Brahms Hungarian Dances (in Fischer's own orchestration), have also received high praise.

Before the great conductor Ferenc Fricsay died (tragically young at the age of 48 in 1963), he made dozens of brilliant mono and stereo recordings for Deutsche Grammophon. Many of his most significant recordings have been released on CD, though some have already drifted out-of-print (Bartok's Concerto for Orchestra, Mozart Syms 29, 39-41 and Beethoven Syms 3, 5 & 7) and others are only available as expensive imports. This past year there has even been a limited edition boxed set of his music released (in the "Original Masters" series – see my review).

First there was rhythm - pulsing, driving, primal rhythm. And a new word in musical terminology: Barbaro. As with sticks on skins, so with hammers on strings. The piano as one of the percussion family, the piano among the percussion family. The first and second concertos were written to be performed that way. But the rhythm had shape and direction, myriad accents, myriad subtleties. An informed primitivism. A Baroque primitivism. Then came the folkloric inflections chipped from the music of time: the crude and misshapen suddenly finding a singing voice. Like the simple melody - perhaps a childhood recollection - that emerges from the dogged rhythm of the First Concerto's second movement. András Schiff plays it like a defining moment - the piano reinvented as a singing instrument. His "parlando" (conversational) style is very much in Bartók's own image. But it's the balance here between the honed and unhoned, the brawn and beauty, the elegance and wit of this astonishing music that make these readings special.

This is an excellent rendition of Dvorjak's Requiem. The Choral group have excellent diction and are sensitive to the light and shade required to bring our the meaning of the words. The Orchestra too contributes to the unity of the work. The Soloists are first class with beautiful voices. the conductor is to be congratulated for his skill in bring the three sections-chorus, soloists and orchestra-together to effectively recreate this wonderful work.

Lilting melodies and exhilarating dance rhythms; gentle pathos, brooding drama and robust high spirits; the spirit of rural Bohemia and the sophistication of Prague, Vienna, New York and London in the late 19th century: Antonin Dvořák’s music is unfailingly distinctive and captivating. In all his works – from the epic ‘New World’ Symphony and Cello Concerto to the irresistible Slavonic Dances, haunting ‘American’ String Quartet, quirky violin Humoresque and yearning Song to the Moon – he is a composer whose heart is open and generous, and whose love for his homeland always shines through. This box provides an illuminating and enriching survey of his works, including his complete symphonies. A number of the celebrated performers have Slavonic roots themselves; all their interpretations draw on a deep affinity with Dvořák’s inspiration and humanity.

Adam Fischer was born into a family of conductors. His father Sándor Fischer conducted the Budapest Radio Orchestra. His brother Iván, and a cousin, György, are also conductors. The Fischers lived across the street from the Budapest Opera House, and he attended his first concert at the age of five. When Haydn's "Surprise" Symphony was played, he decided to be a conductor so he could make the audience jump. He made his conducting debut at the age of 7, leading an ensemble of children playing toy instruments and singing.

Joined by the Zürich Tonhalle Orchestra and David Zinman, Fischer pairs the ever-popular Bruch concerto with Dvorák's undeservedly neglected but perennially fresh masterpiece - a rather more logical twinning than the ubiquitous Mendelssohn.

As orchestras and conductors have been demonstrating for more than a century, you don't have to be Bohemian to play Dvorák. All you need is profound musicality, a deep love of life, and an overwhelming urge to communicate. These are all qualities that Ivan Fischer and the Budapest Festival Orchestra demonstrate in full in this 2000 Channel Classics recording of the composer's Eighth and Ninth symphonies. In these performances, one hears not only edge-of-the-chair excitement from the Hungarian musicians, one hears joy, happiness, and good old-fashioned fun. Listen to the rollicking horn trills in the Eighth's Finale, the thundering timpani in the Ninth's Scherzo; the interplay between winds, strings, and brass in the coda of the Eighth's Scherzo; the lush string tone in the Ninth's Largo; the headlong rush of the Eighth's opening Allegro con brio; or the awesome power of the Ninth's closing Allegro con fuoco.