This is one of the many 35mm magnetic film original recordings made by the Everest label in the late 50s and early 60s, as well as by the Mercury, RCA and Command labels. Audiophiles have coveted these recordings since they were first released on vinyl due to the exceptional sound that could be captured in this format. Each of the three tracks were as wide as standard 1/4-inch magnetic tape, and the oxide layer was about five times thicker, allowing higher levels with freedom from “print through” experienced with recording tape, and a much lower noise level. The sprocket holes plus the heavy-duty Westrex 1551 record-play machines assured smooth motion of the new film. The late Bert Whyte was the original producer of most of the sessions for Everest Records.
This is a brilliant piano concerto, colored by the Armenian folk background of the composer, which adds an exciting edge to the rhythms and melodies of the work. It’s long been my second favorite piano concerto after the Gershwin Concerto in F. (I recall after playing the Gershwin in college I wanted to perform the Khachaturian next but my piano teacher felt it too flashy and Hollywoodish.) Composed in 1935, it has had many performances and recordings, though not as many as the composer’s Gayne and Spartacus ballet music. (There is an equally thrilling recorded performance on a Capitol LP and open reel tape by Leonard Pennario, which doesn’t seem to be currently available on CD.) The lyrical Andante has some lush melodies, and the virtuoso finale is flashing flurry of notes from both the soloist and orchestra. (A typo appears everywhere on the Classic disc, identifying the orchestra as the Houston Symphony; it’s the London Symphony. Whyte traveled to England a number of times to record for Everest.)
It must be remembered that these 35mm film masters are now around 60 years old. It turns out that 35mm film doesn’t have a lengthy shelf live. Omega Records reissued most of the original 35mm Everest recordings on standard CD around 1997, and they found some deterioration at that time. It appears that the combination of the thick oxide coating and the acetate film backing eventually broke down. The metal cans in which the films have been stored add to the dangerous storage situation. These will probably be the very last commercial recordings of any sort to be issued from these historic masters. New, more sophisticated playback electronics were designed and built for the Westrex machines and great care was taken in making the transfers, but there are some unavoidable faults caused by the iffy condition of the original film materials. I have mentioned this before in reviewing Classic’s reissues of this series, but now I’ve been filled in on the actual situation and therefore am more forgiving of the technical problems. The movie industry also has to deal with this same problem when reissuing classic film soundtracks on DVD, but they can take short portions and work on them, while music reissuers have to work with complete continuous movements of musical works.
In the Khachaturian concerto, the last two minutes of the first movement has a major “wow” or speed inconsistency due to the damages to the 35mm film masters. This is not present on the Everest/Omega CD. And it is heard on all three options – the CD (which overall is not quite as good as the now out-of-print Everest/Omega CD), the Dolby Digital video DVD audio and the DVD-Audio 2 and 3-channel options. However, according to Classic’s CEO Mike Hobson, only four other auditioners have complained about the wow on any of the Everest reissues which suffer from it, so this may just attest to my own personal “golden ear” attribute of being extremely sensitive to speed variations. I am told there is a type of “wow” correction available for recording tape in fairly good condition, but not for 35mm film in poor condition. The three-channel format is perfect for piano concertos – keeping the instrument to a more normal size and yet with the greatest presence. (The Harkit label in the UK has begun reissuing a larger series of the classic Everests, though only on standard CD.)
– John Sunier
