Chandos CHAN 10483 X, 79:48 [Distrib. by Naxos] **** :
This reissue (rec. 1984-1988) presents us with the balletic side of Prokofiev’s musical personality: Chout, or The Buffoon (1921), Prokofiev wrote for Diaghilev, who wanted “something quite Russian” for his Paris audience. The suite of twelve dances describe the bizarre machinations of a crafty peasant jester whose musical character demands cross-rhythms and raucous colors. Gaudy and bright, the percussive scenario proceeds to detail a “magical” whip that is supposed to bring back the dead, a series of slain wives, some cross-dressing, and a nanny-goat in cook’s clothing. Dreamy grotesquerie combines with incisive wit in parodic scenes, like The Buffoon as a Young Woman and The Young Woman Becomes a Goat. Whatever the “value” of the tale, the music exacts of the Scottish National Orchestra a decided virtuosity of color and ensemble, as Prokofiev wants any number of weirdly, brash cacophonous effects and slinky harmonies.
Like the suite for Chout, the music for The Love for Three Oranges (1919)–from the opera based on an Italianate farce by Carlo Gozzi–resonates with “primitivisms” we find in the Scythian Suite. It turns out that each of the eponymous, desert oranges contains a princess, two of whom expire from thirst; but the third is saved by a handy bucket of water. We have clown dances, a Prince, a Witch, a curse, and various trappings of wild fantasy, all of which provide Prokofiev with wonderfully raucous harmonies and ferocious energy. The famous March is an interlude that occurs prior to the Witch’s sending the Prince in search of the oranges. Jarvi and his Scots play this muscular music with devotion and stirring, resonantly aerial sonic zest, which had my audio system pounding.
The Waltz Suite (1946) is a product of Prokofiev’s limited activities forced upon him as a result of a concussion he suffered from a fall. He arranged six dances from prior works, including Cinderella, War and Peace and Lermontov, of which Cinderella has three numbers, including the gorgeous “In the Palace.” The third piece, a frisky Mephisto Waltz, pays obvious homage to Liszt and figured in the 1941 film Lermontov. Lushly scored, the waltzes are as redolent of Tchaikovsky as they are of Prokofiev’s innate lyricism; in fact, the first waltz, “Since We Met,” had been intended for a revival of Eugen Onegin. Violin solos, as performed by leader Edwin Paling, enjoy that haunted, spectral quality that defines Prokofiev’s hazy romanticism. Jarvi embraces the waltzes, especially those from War and Peace, with a grand, sweeping series of gestures, the SNO strings and brass sailing audaciously to meet every sonic requirement.
–Gary Lemco
