Suk Ancerl

Joseph Suk's Ripening is one of the most amazing of all post-Romantic orchestral works. It is immensely complex in its structure: a celestial introduction is followed by a cogent progress of scherzos and slow movements, of funeral marches and fugues, all concluded by a serene coda. Yet the work is immediately comprehensible as a musical drama, made clear through the coherence of the thematic and harmonic material. Pesek and the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic perform like modern-day deities. They fall short of the heights of Talich and the Czech Philharmonic, but Talich gave the work its premiere. Nonetheless, Pesek gives Ripening his very considerable all: his concentration holds the gigantic structure together as a single arch. Plus, his players articulate every instrumental detail, right down to the beatific wordless women's choir at the work's close. Highly recommended.

Grumiaux' version remains to this day one of the best available. He and Markevitch conducting the Amsterdam Concertgebouw have a total mastery of the idiom, and the Concerto's sections unfold naturally and organically: it doesn't sound like "modern" music, but as a language entirely congenial to the performers. Tempos are middle-of-the road, close to the metronome marks, and nothing more is required to bring out the composition's searing lyricism. Grumiaux has a luminous tone, the perfect mix of radiant lyricism and despaired vehemence. Markevitch, the Concertgebouw Orchestra (glorious brass!) and the sonic engineers bring out a wealth of orchestral details from Berg's subtle and delicately intertwined textures, maybe not as much as the best modern versions

Juin 1965 : les Smetana ont pris le train de Prague à Stuttgart pour y fixer les quatuors de Janacek, fer de lance de leur répertoire. Janvier 2016 : on ne se gratte pas la tête bien longtemps au moment d'élire le carré d d'as de la discographie comparée que nous consacrons au N° 2 (cf. Diapason n° 642). Non seulement la formation signe là sa meilleure lecture enregistrée de la pièce, la deuxième sur cinq, mais elle domine aussi les gravures « historiques » du chef-d'œuvre aux côtés des Vlach.

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.

Anyone listening to this admirable set will gain an accurate impression of David Oistrakh’s overall playing style, his poise, composure, interpretative finesse, velvety tone and highly sophisticated musicianship. Various of the works programmed are - or have been - available in alternative Oistrakh recordings (the Tchaikovsky and Brahms concertos in around six versions apiece), but Melodiya’s selections are, in general, judiciously chosen.

Zuzana Růžičkova, an exceptional personality upon whom the critics conferred the title “First Lady of the Harpsichord”, continued the pioneering efforts Wanda Landowska had made to get the harpsichord recognised as an independent concert instrument. The path she took was co-determined by her lifelong relationship to Bach, whose complete works for harpsichord she has recorded, and along it she was also accompanied by a number of friends she regularly met: Karel Ančerl, Gideon Klein, Sviatoslav Richter, Josef Suk.