However, as this 3rd release contains the Orchestral Suite #2, which I really like a lot, I decided to give it a serious listen. And it’s actually pretty decent – though as before, there’s a pervading feeling of it being played with an anonymous detachment, albeit by a very fine orchestra. It often sounds so careful, I kept thinking they’re just sightreading this. This was especially evident in the somewhat meandering 1st movement, which ambles along without much sense of purpose or direction. And I found myself admiring the gorgeous Chandos sound rather than the gorgeous music. Then, hoping the Valse 2nd movement would pick up a bit, it doesn’t really; at least not enough. It lacks charm and sounds a little pedestrian.
It occurred to me at this point that maybe Alpesh Chauhan is a little like John Wilson, who just gets through all the bits that don’t interest him much until he gets to something that does. And that’s exactly what seems to happen when he gets to the Scherzo burlesque, where the orchestra at last exhibits some enthusiasm. And off it goes. And when the accordions come in, they pretty much knock you out of your seat. Are accordions really this loud in person? I mean, can 2 accordions really make as much sound as a full symphony orchestra in full cry? Well, sound engineer Ralph Couzens seems to think so. For with quite a little boost of their microphones, they are dropped right in your lap – well out in front of the orchestra. I’m pretty sure that’s not where they’d be seated in an actual concert setting, but here they are front and center as if in a super-duper accordion concerto – even though they only get to play just 2 chords for their entire gig (which lasts exactly 18 bars in a quick 2/4, repeated one time). And even then, with all the spectacle of hearing accordions among a modern symphony orchestra (way back before that was a thing), Chauhan somehow thwarts the music’s unstoppable momentum and sheer exhilaration which would make it absolutely thrilling. Instead, it’s just fast – and a little roisterous with those larger-than-life accordions rollicking back and forth between their two assigned chords. I would much rather have heard some real fury and vigorous muscle from the strings in their frenzied 16th-note scalic passages (marked fff) rather than such prominent accordions.
After that, the slow movement can’t help but be a bit of a letdown – especially as it is admittedly not one of Tchaikovsky’s best (or musically coherent) creations. And Chauhan doesn’t illuminate anything in particular to keep us fully engaged, despite some expressive playing from the orchestra. But then – again kinda like when John Wilson finds something that he likes – Chauhan springs the final movement to life in a way he hasn’t before. It’s nicely articulate and fully up to tempo. (There’s no way he could disregard the vivacissimo/prestissimo markings.) And it’s actually pretty exciting. But lasting just 4 minutes, it’s a little too short and comes a little too late to compensate for the previous 36. Nonetheless, the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra does a fine job playing this piece; I can make no criticism of them at all.
And regarding my comment about the 2 accordions, there is a brief snippet of the recording session on YouTube where one can clearly see that there are in fact just 2 used for this recording, rather than the 4 specified in the score – which might explain why the engineer felt the need to spotlight them with their own microphones, perhaps attempting to simulate more of them than there actually are. (Tsk tsk.)
Next up are two excerpts from Eugene Onegin, including the famous “Polonaise”, which comes and goes unremarkably, followed by “Dance of the Tumblers” from the opera, The Enchantress. This isn’t the familiar, vivacious tumbler’s dance by Rimsky-Korsakov for sure. Tchaikovsky’s tumblers are less acrobatic than Rimsky’s – at least with Chauhan coaching them. (I can imagine this music being more athletic than it is here.)
The real highlight of the program comes next in Tchaikovsky’s early work, The Storm (not to be confused with his masterpiece, The Tempest 10 years later). It is a rather long and rambling collection of somewhat disjointed episodic scenes, beginning with a hesitant and overly melodramatic opening, followed by one of Tchaikovsky’s least memorable tunes – which begins with the first 5 notes of “Oh give me a home”, but stops short of “where the buffalo roam” (although you hear it in your head anyway). However, the initial Allegro takes flight nicely, and Chauhan creates an impressive atmosphere of impending ominousness – though it feels a bit too fast and breezy to forecast imminent danger. I sense a thunderstorm rather than a hurricane at this speed. And later, the fugue section is again atmospheric rather than menacing. Despite vividly characterizing each section, Chauhan is apparently unconcerned with attempting to conceal the seams. Nonetheless, the piece succeeds anyway – thanks in large part to the superb orchestral playing and spectacular recorded sound.
After it was done, I was absolutely loath to listen to March Slav and simply couldn’t bring myself to play it. Why Mr. Pidgeon placed it here is beyond reasoning. (He exhibits this little problem frequently). But for those who just must have it yet again on yet another Tchaikovsky collection, I’m sure the BBCSSO sightreads it with blusterous aplomb.
Just as in a recent harmonia mundi CD, which featured Tchaikovsky’s 3rd Orchestral Suite conducted by newcomer Stanislav Kochanovsky, the recorded sound is definitely the highlight of this release. Indeed, this Chandos SACD is simply glorious – and almost convinces you the musicmaking is better than it actually is. (Almost.) And again, just like with John Wilson’s recordings, the recorded sound is as important to the success of these releases as the conducting itself. The BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra sounds absolutely beautiful here – warm, colorful, airy and transparent. And the engineer sets them back at a perfect perspective (with the notable exception of those swashbuckling accordions) within a gorgeous acoustic – with palpable presence, immediacy and dynamic impact. The listener gets the best seat in the house – about mid-hall. This is a night and day improvement over the rather distant, somewhat diffuse and slightly congested sound they produced for Wilson’s recent Rachmaninoff 1st and Symphonic Dances. (What happened there?) So I’m very happy for that.
I really hadn’t intended for this to be a negative review, though it does sound rather like faint praise. But I have to be sincere (and honest) about what I hear. And once again, I’m amused at the British reviewers effusing all over themselves about this guy with ridiculous comments like: “He evidently has a tremendous flair for Tchaikovsky” “..the stuff dreams are made of” “…(he) brilliantly project(s) the music’s theatrical excitement”. No – he doesn’t. Those are the very qualities which are conspicuously missing in Chauhan’s Tchaikovsky. (What are they listening to?) If you’re going to pretend something ordinary is great, at least come up with something believable to explain why.
Though this 3rd installment is a bit more engaging and musically rewarding than the 1st in the series, it certainly didn’t bowl me over, or make me any more enthused about listening to the 2nd volume that I skipped, or welcoming future installments. And I just can’t help wonder – why this conductor? And why is Chandos recording all this Tchaikovsky with him? These sound like well-played studio sessions rather than actual performances, and frankly, aren’t terribly distinguished or special in any way – other than the recorded sound. I suspect Chauhan will eventually record the remaining 3 Orchestral Suites, which might be tempting if for no other reason than to enjoy the wonderful orchestral playing and the superb recorded sound. But that may not be enough.
