thu 25/07/2024

Baráti, Lyddon, LPO, Jurowski, RFH review - Stravinsky's bright but derivative beginnings | reviews, news & interviews

Baráti, Lyddon, LPO, Jurowski, RFH review - Stravinsky's bright but derivative beginnings

Baráti, Lyddon, LPO, Jurowski, RFH review - Stravinsky's bright but derivative beginnings

Fine programme in principle, but lacking a significant core

Ivan Bilibin's illustration for the Prologue of Pushkin's 'Ruslan and Lyudmila', source of Rimsky-Korsakov's 'Skazka'

"You have to start somewhere," Debussy is reported to have said at the 1910 premiere of The Firebird. Which, at least, is a very good "somewhere" for Stravinsky, shot through with flashes of the personality to come.

The Symphony in E flat of two years earlier, however, is little more than a theme park of all the ingredients amassed in Russian music since Glinka forged its identity less than a century earlier. It's fun to have on CD - and to play the opening in a "guess the composer" quiz (the reasonable answer would be Glazunov). To work in concert, it needs companions with more than the passing flashes of inspiration we heard in Vladimir Jurowski's Stravinsky series opener last night, however well connected the music by the four great composers.

What's worth salvaging of the symphony, revised (curiously enough) in 1913, the year of The Rite of Spring? (Stravinsky, incidentally, never referred to it as "No 1," as the LPO publications department seems to think, which would grace it with a higher status than it deserves, though he did record it as conductor in later life. Update: See Richard Bratby's comment below). The first movement is plump and placid, though smoothly upholstered by a London Philharmonic Orchestra on fine form, the third a blatant homage to the finale of Tchaikovsky's "Pathétique" Symphony without the depth of feeling behind it, the finale very much third-best to Borodin in festive mode.

Stravinsky and Rimsky-Korsakov, 1908That leaves the effervescent scherzo; there isn't a dull one in the whole history of the Russian symphony, that I know of at any rate, and it's delicious to know that Diaghilev had it played in Ballets Russes intervals; the unlikely Savoyard may have liked its resemblance to the weather chat of Major-General Stanley's daughters in The Pirates of Penzance. At any rate the LPO's wonderful principal flautist Juliette Bausor managed to make real phrasing out of the babble; and she got to sing one of the finest legato melodies of the evening at the beginning of the concert, a welcome chance to hear the rarely-performed Skazka (Fairy Tale) of Stravinsky's mentor Rimsky-Korsakov (pictured above on the left with Stravinsky in 1908).

Skazka is putatively based on the Prologue to Alexander Pushkin’s first masterpiece, the verse romance Ruslan and Lyudmila, in which a cat held to an ocean-side oak tree by a gold chain sings all the familiar Russian fairy tale components. We can make some of them out – Baba Yaga, for instance, in spiky wind chords indebted to Glinka’s characterisation of the witch Naina in his operatic Ruslan – and the atmosphere is close to Kashchey the Immortal, Korsakov’s one-act opera which gave so much musically to The Firebird (Stravinsky quotes its damsel-in-distress theme in the finale of the E flat Symphony). Bewitchingly scored ideas all, but they don’t amount to much.

Angharad LyddonNor do the three lopsided movements of Stravinsky’s Opus Two, Faun and Shepherdess, also based on Pushkin poetry. Debussyan impressionism enters the otherwise Russian fantasy picture here, and it was good to get such a lovely mezzo colour from recently-graduated Angharad Lyddon (pictured right). She holds the stage personably, too; what a grievous omission on the LPO’s part, though, not to give us the Pushkin text and translation either in the programme – hardly a generous celebration of a major festival – or in surtitle form.

Glazunov’s Violin Concerto is oddly proportioned, too, despite its compactness: all introspective lyricism verging on the soporific until it reaches one of the best finales in the concerto repertoire, twinkling variations on a hunting theme. It’s an inspiration in which you want to see the violinist having fun; but Kristóf Baráti (pictured below by Marco Borggreve) deprived us of any pleasure in the visual dimension, eyes down and serious throughout. No denying the deep tone and mostly spot-on intonation, though, and he spun a bewitching line in the Glazunov-orchestrated Meditation from Tchaikovsky’s Souvenir d’un lieu cher which followed.

Kristof BaratiThis was Tchaikovsky’s first idea for the slow movement of his Violin Concerto – the ultimate vivacissimo of which Glazunov definitely rivals – and Glazunov parallels the clarinet embroideries of the much better-known concerto canzona in the reprise of the melancholy melody. Guest principal James Burke gave us more personality than Baráti, joining Bausor to prove that the LPO’s wind principals are every inch the characterful equal of the Philharmonia’s, on show so strikingly in last Thursday’s Dvořák concert, or those of the BBC Symphony Orchestra. Treasure your London orchestas, and do not seem to wish Brexit on their healthy pan-European constitution, as LPO Chief Executive and Artistic Advisor Timothy Walker appeared to do in a gobsmacking Daily Telegraph article last week. There are questions there which he needs to answer; but meanwhile the orchestra is in peerless shape, so thanks partly to Walker as well as mainly to Jurowski for that.


Lovely, thought-provoking review of a concert I'd love to have heard. On a point of information, though, (and since I wrote the programme notes I feel it's my duty on behalf of the LPO's diligent and extremely musical marketing team to clarify), the first published edition of Stravinsky's early symphony (Jurgenson, 1914) gives the title "Symphonie No.1", which presumably wouldn't have been printed without Stravinsky's consent. It's carried over into the subsequent Forberg reprint. Eric Walter White, in his 1966 study, asserts that "on the title page, this score is designated as 'Symphonie No.1 Es dur pour grand orchestre'". I'm not sure whether or not White saw the manuscript, and I hesitate to disagree with you on the subject of Russian music! But I hope you'll agree that there's a well-established precedent, dating from the composer's own time, for describing the symphony in this way. These choices aren't made without thought (and if he did number the symphony, how revealing about the way he saw his future at that point in his career!). But in any case, it's more defensible in terms of the composer's known intentions than referring to - say - Vaughan Williams' "Symphony No.3" or "Symphony No.4" - designations he never used or authorised, but whose routine use today rarely provokes any comment at all.

It seems very odd to number a symphony when you've only composed one, without being sure there are more to follow; as you say, Stravinsky must have been confident,and it's very surprising that he revised it in 1913  Later, though, he always referred to this just as 'in E flat', and of course didn't number the successors. Interesting, all the same, and thanks for taking the time to explain. I wish you'd been given space to write more, by the way. Programme production needs a bit of a shake-up IMO. But again maybe it's a question of ever-limited budgets.

Indeed - it's certainly inconsistent. And of course it's possible that the number was added by Jurgenson - though Stravinsky clearly didn't mind enough to stop them doing so, if that's indeed the case (or indeed to remove the number from the 1964 Robert Forberg re-publication - and a businessman as shrewd as Stravinsky must surely have been aware of that). But yes, agreed, a short programme note doesn't really offer enough space to discuss these things in detail. I'm enormously fond of the piece and in fact programmed it in Birmingham in 2006 (though at the time I said that I'd rather have done a real Glazunov symphony!). It's one to chalk up alongside Debussy's Premiere Rhapsodie (there was never a Deuxieme), perhaps, and Bizet's Symphony in C, which I think I recall he also called "No.1". And of course, Bartok got up to Op.77 (including string quartets numbered 1 and 2) before junking the lot and starting all over again 1904 with his current Op.1. I've long given up expecting consistency from great composers.

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