Vaclav Talich & Czech PO = DVORAK: Symphony No. 7 in D Minor, Op. 70; 8 Slavonic Dances, Op. 46 – Czech Philharmonic Orchestra/Vaclav Talich
Opus Kura 2080, 70:11 [Distr. by Albany] ****:
The Seventh Symphony of Dvorak (1885), after the symphonies of Beethoven and those of Schumann and Brahms, represents the finest composition in the form that embraces the mainstream German tradition. Combining a sense of tragedy and a decided Slavonic sensibility, the D Minor evinces a level of power and lyrical expression that exalts it in the pantheon of great orchestral works. While there may be an occasional gesture indebted to Brahms, the increasing energies derived from Bohemian sources color the work–especially in the last two movements–with an unmistakable rhythmic drive obliged to Dvorak’s long familiarity with his national roots. Vaclav Talich (1883-1961) recorded his version of this monumental work in 1938 for British HMV, setting a precedent for driven, convinced focus in each of the movements, an elan and determination that set the standard for future inscriptions.
From the first note of the Allegro maestoso, Talich sets the tone of fierce resolve, of heroic deeds that may demand grim sacrifice. The entire work will traverse a movement from D Minor to D Major, but not before several echoes of “the sad years” in the composer’s memory will make their tense presence felt. The Czech strings and woodwinds enjoy that reverberant warm lucidity that characterizes every Talich reading, underscored with a firm grasp on the music’s internal rhythms. The first movement easily suggests the colossal will of Beethoven, interlaced with flute and woodwind riffs of sweeping, bucolic loveliness. The monumental climax achieves a ferocious magma of intensity, only to dissipate in broken chords that still smolder with drama. The Poco Adagio, for all of its innate beauty, may have been colored by the deaths of the composer’s mother and one of his children. Horn and clarinet dominate the individual melodic lines, though one can never discount the CPO strings under Talich for their poise and heartfelt resonance.
The jaunty cross rhythms of the Scherzo pulse with Bohemian energies, achieving a whirlwind clarity under Talich, who keeps the interior lines as captivating as the martial cadences that saturate the outer sections of the movement. The Furiant impulse yields to a rustic minuet with bird calls in the Trio, only to resume its fevered menace in the Da Capo. The Allegro finale confronts a series of emotional crises, alternating a marvelously lyrical thread of melody in the midst of the turmoil. Trumpets and tympani compete for primacy as the music, in true sonata-allegro form, elaborates on the national or personal struggle the music depicts. Talich’s grip on this extraordinary movement never relents in its fervor of articulated, metrically sinewy figures. The coda gathers up a mountain of expressivity, explodes, and closes with a visceral “So be it!”
The set of eight Slavonic Dances, Op. 46, Talich inscribed in 1935, bestowing upon them the national exuberance and internal clarity each of them deserves. The opening C Major Furiant leaps forward like a tiger, gathering a lyrical inertia quite compelling. The E Minor Dumka, despite some swish in the original shellacs, conveys a dreamy melancholy whose interior lines resound with frothy cream. The A-flat Polka sachets with a whimsical poise, mixed with passionate yearning. No. 4, a stately Sousedska in F Major, though the briefest of the set, conveys poignant, graduated nostalgia. Juxtaposed with the terse No. 4 is the expansive A Major No. 5, a Scocna in breezy, rustic syncopations. The horn punctuations hint at what Talich might have made of Iberian repertory or a good Capriccio espagnol. No. 6 in D, another Sousedska, scampers in frisky figures, the colors ringing and rollicking in the winds and triangle. The C Minor No. 7 presents us a coy Scocna whose swaying figures conceal a capacity for passionate intimacy. The G Minor Furiant No. 8 wants to convince us that its dance character must be derived from the Greek “furies.” The interior, plastic lines in the strings and winds counter the infectious rhythms by their sheer pearly beauty.
Any serious Talich collector or Dvorak aficianado who may have missed these restorations via Supraphon’s Talich Edition would do well to seek these conscientious Opus Kura incarnations, Dvorak by his supreme acolyte.
— Gary Lemco
