Ruben Gazarian (b. 1971) moved from concertmaster status to principal conductor of he West Saxon Symphony Orchestra quickly, between 1999-2002, and his repute as a leader of intensity soon spread to Cologne and Zurich. These Tchaikovsky inscriptions date 15-18 November 2006, and they capture fervid renditions of both the sextet and serenade in full string complement. After a seething, furious ride through the Allegro con spirito of the Souvenir’s first movement, the ensuing Adagio cantabile e con moto retains the intimacy of the violin and cello dialogues that find kinship in the second movement of the G Major Piano Concerto, Op. 44 and the great ballets. In the darker moments, the sonority opens up in the manner of Francesca da Rimini as cross fertilized by Russian liturgical harmonies. The sonic separation on this multichannel disc, engineering courtesy of Joerg Heinkel, proves sensuous and erotic, as only Tchaikovsky’s gorgeous interior string lines can be when he as the top of his form. Tchaikovsky used to study Mozart’s C Minor Adagio and Fugue, K. 546 as his model of classical polyphony, and the ethos of his Florence momento resonates with the lessons Mozart’s visceral example. The throbbing counterpoints in the Allegretto moderato, followed by tripping figures out of Delibes, testify the a lithe transposition of the athletic side of the Salzburg master. The Allegro vivace bubbles a scintillating brew, a la Mendelssohn, the melodies and fugue worthy of that German master and even hinting at the later Elgar.
The 1880 Serenade took the composer’s fancy, his calling it “my youngest child with whom I have fallen in love.” Gazarian alternately bestows upon its virile and graceful figures lavish affection, white-hot passion, and courtly elegance. Favoring the long line and the light hand, Gazamian keeps the music moving, very little sentimentality and rather a sobering drive and musical evolution of the interior voices. The Waltz flutters in the breeze, the melody drawn out delicately, not so squeezed for every drop as by Furtwaengler. The Wurtemberg players, 24 in all, bequeath to the Elegy a haunted largesse of spirit, an operatic grandeur that does not sink into bathos. The last pages of this exalted Larghetto become surrounded in a fine mist, eerily adumbrating Schoenberg’s equally agonized sextet, Transfigured Night. Conductor Gazarian and ensemble enjoy several moments of phrase adjustments prior to the full throttle of the Russian Dance, but once violin pizzicati, fugato, and deep cello song emerge, it’s all yearning Tchaikovsky at his most vivaciously familiar. A veritable feast of the Russian composer’s string virtuosity, captured with striking fidelity in this warm, affectionate disc.
— Gary Lemco
