Golovanov Vol. 3 = BALAKIREV: Tamar; MUSSORGSKY: Khovanschina Prelude; GLINKA: Valse-Fantasie; GLAZUNOV: Concerto Waltz No. 2, Op. 51; Serenade in A, Op. 7; TCHAIKOVSKY: Marche Slav, Op. 31 – Moscow Radio Symphony Orchestra/ Nicolai Golovanov – Historic-Recordings HRCD 00070, 57:05 [www.historic-recordings.co.uk] ****:
I must assume Neal Kurz to be the source for these fine transfers of inscriptions, 1944-1952, from the Soviet conductor Nicolai Golovanov (1891-1953) whose full-blooded style resounds in every bar. The opening Tamar (1952) literally combats the more famous EMI account from Sir Thomas Beecham, projecting a coarser, rougher edge – an earthiness that revels in its own depictions of sensuality and violence. The piece consumed composer Balakirev for fifteen years, 1867-1882, based on a Lermontov ballad of a warlike princess who lures then destroys travelers to her enchanted castle in the Caucasus. The English horn, woodwinds and harp surge and rustle, sway and explode, as required to illustrate Tamara’s wily and bloodthirsty vengeance.
Golovanov recorded the Mussorgsky Prelude to Khovanschina twice: this is the 1948 account. Despite some swishy 78s, the orchestral definition reigns supreme, the high strings vividly invoking Dawn on the Moscow scene. The oboe and rising strings create a shimmering sense of spectacle, the pizzicati and tremolos all but throwing the city gates open. Glinka’s 1839 athletic Valse-Fantasie (rec. 1949) certainly provides a model that Tchaikovsky would follow; I knew the piece prior only from an inscription from the RCA Bluebird label by Nicolai Malko. Stylized in the French manner, the piece enjoys a healthy variety of colors, especially in the horns. The two Glazunov works likewise incorporate French models in to their Russian melos: the 1948 reading of the Concert Waltz in F Major floats in the manner of an afternoon promenade; it might have served as a model for Richard Rodgers or accompanied a movie scene by Vincent Minnelli. The Serenade (rec. 1952) opens with an imitation of balalaikas, then a swaying melody over an ostinato that clearly takes its cue from Borodin. The music relishes its exotic oriental ardor, the colors easily reminiscent of the Polovtsian impulses in Prince Igor.
Tchaikovsky’s 1876 Marche Slav in B-flat Minor (rec. 1944) opens lugubriously, pesant e marcato, almost a dirge for the besieged Russia of WW II. The Serbian folk tunes come to the forefront, surviving the battlefield whirlwind the music describes. The intensity of the performance grants the inscription a special place among the great Tchaikovsky readings of the period, like Paul van Kempen’s Capriccio Italien. Dirge and triumphal paean at once, the procession achieves a grand nobility of expression in the tonic major, a valediction of the human spirit in crisis.
— Gary Lemco
Anthony Collins: Complete Decca Recordings – Australian Eloquence *
A compelling sweep symphonic literature!
