SIBELIUS: Symphony No. 1 in E Minor, Op. 39; Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. Fifth43; Symphony No. 5 in E-flat Major, Op. 82; Symphony No. 6 in D Minor, Op. 104; Valse Triste, Op. 44; The Swan of Tuonela, Op. 22, No. 2; Finlandia, Op. 26 – Boston Symphony Orchestra/ Serge Koussevitzky – Pristine Audio PASC 617 (2 CDs) 79:35; 77:47 [pristineclassical.com] *****:
Record producer and recording engineer Andrew Rose returns to the legacy of Russian maestro Serge Koussevitzky (1874-1951) and his especial relationship to the music of Jean Sibelius; here, in live broadcasts of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, 1945-1948. The addition of the First Symphony and Sixth Symphony and selected tone-poems of Sibelius should warrant collectors and connoisseurs to seek out this set, given that Koussevitzky, along with Robert Kajanus and Sir Thomas Beecham, virtually set the standard for Sibelius interpretation in the first half of the 20th Century.
Rumbling tympani and a solo clarinet announce the Andante, ma non troppo – Allegro energico of the 1899-1900 Symphony No. 1 in E Minor (rec. 13 October 1945). The entry of Koussevitzky’s first tutti literally shatters our sound space, and the musical heraldry only increases. This movement vacillates between E Minor and G Major, with an F-sharp pedal point, the various themes traceable to the clarinet motif at the beginning. Koussevitzky imposes a taut, melancholy cohesion upon the musical materials, fluid and transparent in the conductor’s strong suit, his patented string tone. The second movement Andante exploits strategies we find in both Brahms and Tchaikovsky – a stormy section in the midst of a slow movement. Balanced between E-flat Major and C minor, the predominantly bucolic music has both the bassoon and French horns evolve motifs found in the first movement.
String pizzicatos and tympanic hammer blows initiate the Scherzo: Allegro, executed in almost Brucknerian ecstasy. The swirl of colors proves intoxicating as Koussevitzky whips up a lithe fugato over a grumbling pedal. Georges Laurent’s flute invokes Nature to us, prior to a convulsive mediation that will lead to the da capo. The Finale: Andante unifies the work cyclically, in a Quasi una fantasia style. The opening clarinet motif, transformed and lushly orchestrated, holds sway and evolves into a dark vision of the natural landscape, rife with passionate defiance, here in the form of a mournful chorale close in spirit to Finlandia.
So far as the Symphony No. 2 in D Major (1901-02) by Koussevitzky is concerned, the conductor competes only with himself in two commercial recordings for RCA, of which the second of 29 November 1950 marks a miracle in recorded sound, a “perfect record.” The D Major Symphony documented here (8 December 1945) transports us with the same epic vision, with a first movement Allegretto built up of selected fragments and impulses that eventually germinate, mostly based in the Finnish landscape. The emotional interruptions, sudden convulsions, particularly in the Tempo andante, ma rubato second movement, in the Aeolian mode, deliver a pungent commentary on the confrontation between Nature and human will. Even after the colossal propulsion of the third movement Vivacissimo and the superhuman, melodically expansive, heroic Finale: Allegro moderato, critic Virgil Thomson called this music “parochial.” Go figure.
The Fifth Symphony (1915-19) supposedly owes its opening colors to a flight of sixteen swans, although the original impetus comes from a commission from the Finnish government in celebration of the composer’s 50th birthday. Koussevitzky (5 January 1946) establishes a shimmeringly intense series of colors for the Tempo molto moderato, building a gradual crescendo on the “swan theme” over a series of pedal points and stretti. The throbbing energy and elastic tension of the score have been totally integrated by the BSO in glorious homogeneity of sound, what Koussevitzky would often boast of in his remark, “I worked 25 years to get that tone!” The music culminates in some thrilling work in strings, brass and tympani.
The second movement, marked Andante mosso, quasi allegretto, offers a theme and variations, with the same carefully articulated pizzicato work that marks the corresponding movement in the Symphony No. 2. The oboe and surrounding instruments create an aura of subtle colors and gradations of Northern landscape painting infiltrated by a sense of deep yearning. The frenzied tremolando that sets the tone for the last movement, Allegro molto, has a seamless impetus that carries us through the pulsating scalar passages that resonate in virtuoso form throughout, lifting the original “swan motif” well into the stratosphere. The relationship between tympani and silences has yet to be unraveled, so far as meaningful, perhaps tragic, riddles exist for the composer’s ultimate intent.
The Sixth Symphony (1914-1923) less frequently appears in the concert halls, a fate it shares with the C Major Symphony No. 3. The most successful performance this reviewer experienced occurred at Davies Hall in San Francisco, with that city orchestra’s having been led by Michael Tilson-Thomas. This symphony unfolds as a musical continuum whose (Dorian) modalities seem to be spurred by pure sound rather than by the dictates of sonata-form, what the composer freely admitted as a “fantasia” impulse. Koussevitzky (March 1946) generates from the outset of the Allegro molto moderato – Poco tra nquillo a sterling sound space, rich in woodwind colors and brisk figures in his ever-active strings. The segue into the brief, second movement Allegretto moderato proves so smooth we hardly know of the transition, especially given the through-composed nature of the musical material. The lyricism of the movement wanes, so the third movement Poco vivace, despite its fluent and skittish character, has a dark hue. The transparency of texture marks the Koussevitzky reading with its special character. There are woodwind pipings from Northern climes, but the singular martial energy assigns a sense of menace to the scene, which breaks off abruptly. The last movement, Allegro molto – Allegro assai – Doppio più lento– projects a valedictory, chorale-like atmosphere. The dialogues amongst the BSO woodwinds warrants the price of admission to a beautifully paced and graduated interpretation, whose last pages convey a hymn of personal depth and conviction.
The three tone-poems enjoy the lush Koussevitzky treatment, and we may well wonder why RCA simply did not consign them to their label. Valse Triste (13 October 1945) proceeds very slowly, almost funereally paced, gradually achieving its lyrically sweeping fullness. Flute George Laurent has his day in the brief sun. My personal favorite among the numerous recordings of this moving work belongs to Hans Rosbaud. The mythical lament The Swan of Tuonela (8 December 1945) features Louis Speyer in the marvelous English horn part. Eminently atmospheric, the Koussevitzky reading brings an intense, mystical sadness to the Sibelius nether realms. The ever-popular 1899 Finlandia (rec. 3 August 1948), played for Sibelius’ 80th birthday, urges Finnish nationalism with the same force and monumental conviction that informs the same spirit in Chopin. Dramatically majestic, stentorian, then grandly lyrical, the performance captures the severe dignity of the moment, a protest against the Russian domination of his beloved country.
—Gary Lemco
