Issay Dobrowen, Vol. I = TCHAIKOVSKY: Serenade for Strings in C Major, Op. 48; Symphony No. 4 in F Minor, Op. 36; LIADOV: Berceuse (No. 8 from Eight Russian Folksongs, Op. 58) – Philharmonia Orchestra/Issay Dobrowen
Historical-Recordings HRCD 0035, 75:00 [www.historic-recordings.co.uk] ****:
For collectors of the great Russian conducting tradition, the name of Issay Dobrowen (1891-1953) carries special weight, his having premiered Boris Gudonov in Germany in 1922 at the behest of Fritz Busch. A gifted pianist and composer himself, Dobrowen made a reputation among record collectors by accompanying Huberman, Medtner, Schnabel, Neveu and various singers, especially Boris Christoff. Though Dobrowen led the San Francisco Symphony for a brief period, no surviving documents grace posterity. The present originals are dated 1946-1947 and offer Dobrowen and the recently formed (via Walter Legge) Philharmonia of London Orchestra in the music of Tchaikovsky, which Dobrowen clearly favored. I discovered Dobrowen on EMI through his 1950’s Rimsky-Korsakov on Angel (35009 and 35010, respectively), the Tsar Saltan Suite especially convincing me of Dobrowen’s powers.
The opening Serenade for Strings (6-7 and 16 May 1947) conveys intense and introspective passion, restrained, but capable of sudden bursts in wild ecstasies. Not so mystical in the second and fourth movements as his colleague at La Scala, Furtwaengler, Dobrowen elicits a nobly staid nostalgia throughout this work. The Philharmonia strings articulate each of the movements with deliberation that often sings in lustrous colors. After a stirring Elegy, the last movement rather glistens in its evocation of Russian Dance and its cyclical return in counterpoint to the material of the opening movement. A few well-considered ritards, and the furor of the dance starts up again for the brilliant coda, which makes us wonder how Dobrowen might have fared in the major ballet scores.
Liadov’s Berceuse (6 May 1947) had prior inscription via Stokowski and the 1937 Philadelphia Orchestra, but this version savors the calm, stately serenity over a rocking rhythm that a natural singer of Russian folk songs conveys, and we recall Dobrowen’s long friendship with Fyodor Chaliapin.
The Tchaikovsky Fourth (24-25 June 1946 and 7 May 1947) opens with a splendid Russian fanfare and sense of Fate in A-flat trumpets, the music eventually moving to a gloomily animated 9/8 in adjusted waltz tempo. Good sonic definition marks the woodwinds’ response, especially the oboes, clarinets, and bassoons. Dobrowen drives the music hard through its first period that soon embraces the balletic disposition of those same woodwinds in various colloquys, added to a muted thumping tympanic form of the notion of relentless destiny. Each reappearance of the A-flat trumpet sequence marks another stage in the development in this the grandest of Tchaikovsky symphonic movements. Lying somewhere between the grandeur of Mengelberg and overwrought paroxysms of Mravinsky, the Dobrowen performance communicates a ferocious sweep and cosmic struggle. We do feel that Tchaikovsky has crafted a monumental symphonic poem with three added epilogues. The movement to the coda proves absolutely riveting, and we must admire the discipline of execution at every bar that leads to a peroration of mighty power.
The oboe for the B-flat Minor Andante cuts a nasal figure for its plaintive canzone that soon evolves into a fateful procession, the episodes of which attempt a wistful smile in A-flat Major. Fine flute work, first in the accompaniment and then by way of introduction to the rhapsodic middle section. The bassoon does equally well with the restatement at the end of the movement, the temperaments poignant and well made. The F Major pizzicato Scherzo hustles briskly, finely etched, the Philharmonia strings clear, the oboe entry for the A Major trio section–another Russian dance in spirited motley–pointed and elastic. When the Philharmonia winds and brass enter, the effect becomes quite close to moments in The Nutcracker, and just as infectious. Russian revelries in F Major for the Finale, with help from a vigorous folk song. Dobrowen again maintains a vivid sense of pulse, his conviction evident in each progression of the “fateful” fanfare. That ubiquitous Russian wind sound pervades the brass and winds, now abetted by the cymbals and febrile piccolo. The entire coda, a kind of apotheosis in imperial style, convinces us by dint of the conductor’s sincerity and the exemplary finesse of his London players. A grand return to the active catalogue of a much-underrated conductor!
–Gary Lemco
