TGIF

Les Vendredis is a selection of 16 pieces for string quartet gathered and published by Mitrofan Petrovich Belaieff in 1899. The name comes from Belaieff's every second Friday musical salons where composers like Lyadov, Rimsky-Korsakov, Borodin and Glazunov presented new works. I was rather surprised to find out how often these pieces have been recorded, though I guess at 75 or so minutes the set is all set to fill a CD. I listened to selections from the Quatuor Ravel set on Skarbo (2002), the Vertavo String Quartet on Simax Classics (2004), the Alcan Quartet on ATMA Classique (2005), and the Silzer Quartet on SWR Classic Archive (2014). It became clear from this immersion in late 19th century Russian salon music that the focus is on salon: this isn't usually challenging or searching music. It is occasionally a bit erudite - there's a prelude and fugue by Glazunov and a canon by Sokolov. At the same time, though, it's more middle-European and less folkloric than I would have expected. Charm is the keynote, and the Szymanowski Quartet brings the charm. Every recording has a different order of the pieces, but this recording seems to be in publication order. In any case, there's plenty of variety in mood and tempo, and it all makes for a very pleasant hour and a quarter. Recommended. The disc is due to drop on April 14, 2017.

High opera, high concept

I never complain about modern dress versions of classic plays or operas, since they’re at least a chance to hold up an old masterpiece in a new light. Occasionally a more substantial remix adds some important insights. Very rarely the new concept takes on a life of its own and provides a satisfying theatrical experience in its own right. It happened for me with Ian McKellen and Richard Loncraine’s 1995 film of Richard III, set in an alternative fascist England. And it’s happened again with this production, in which Director Dmitri Tcherniakov has virtually re-written the story that underlies Rimsky-Korsakov’s opera The Tsar’s Bride. The court of Ivan the Terrible is now a modern television studio, and the Czar has been replaced by a virtual character seen on big screens, put together with motion capture and green screen. You no longer need to know what a boyar is to appreciate the story, and the board room and television studio have replaced the court. But this isn’t just about changing externals to make things more ‘relevant’ to today’s audience. The new dynamics of multi-nationals and media moguls are so close to the old ones of nations and monarchs. It’s an arresting story in either case, with basic love/hate/jealousy geometry turned up to an operatic white-heat. The affairs of state and corporations, of media empires and real empires, matter less than the passions of individuals. Those passions are expressed in beautiful arias of longing, innocent love, betrayal and regret. In either reality, the music of Rimsky-Korsakov provides an enduring soundtrack that’s always of interest whatever happens in the foreground. Nothing in the concept is especially subtle, but there are beautiful moments in the acting of the principals, sensitive movements of the camera to expose hidden emotions, and gorgeous singing and playing all around. Daniel Barenboim ensures the highest musical standards, and the beauties of the opera come to the fore.

The DVD trailer shows off the concept well:

An orchestral jewel

From September 2, 2014:

"The centuries go by, and we are still hearing the voice of Scheherazade." Jorge Luis Borges talks about how The Arabian Nights have become part of the DNA of Western culture. "It is part of our memory," he says. In Rimsky-Korsakov's retelling of these ageless themes, the powerfully cogent arguments of 19th century music - thematic exposition, development & recapitulation, scherzo, reverie, transfiguration - become the stories that each time stave off execution. The titles supplied by the composer for each section - The Sea and Sinbad's Ship, Festival at Baghdad, and the rest - aren't important in themselves. Rimsky-Korsakov tells Scheherazade's life-or-death story by placing her voice - a beautiful theme for solo violin - in the middle of the action, and showing her success through the final taming of the savage and barbaric themes with a quiet but satisfyingly hopeful ending.

This orchestral showpiece was especially popular in the 1950s and 60s. At 40-45 minutes it just fit on two LP sides. Celebrated versions were released with the great orchestras of the day conducted by Fritz Reiner, Leopold Stokowski and others. These tended to be full-blown, exotic, colourful and romantic interpretations. By the CD era, more analytic, cooler readings focussed on the orchestral virtuosity and rhythmic variety. Kirill Kondrashin & the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra and Charles Dutoit with the Montreal Symphony are stand-outs. The extra room on CDs almost always brought additional pieces - often the Russian Easter Orchestra or the Capriccio Espagnole, or both.

This brand-new Chandos disc shows off a revitalized Toronto Symphony Orchestra under the impressive leadership of Peter Oundjian, and the result is everything one could hope for. Instrumental playing is at the highest level - including the solo violin played, I presume, by concertmaster Jonathan Crow - and the story-telling is all under Oundjian's expansive, not-too-fussy control. The Chandos engineers provide outstanding multi-channel surround sound from the Roy Thompson Hall sessions in June 2013, and it sounds great in the standard stereo format. Forty-five minutes is short measure for a CD or album-length download, but perhaps standing alone best shows off the sparkle of this orchestral jewel.