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| DG digital (Full price) (LP) 2532 102 (Cassette) 3302 102 |
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| LSO, Previn (4/73) ASD2889 |
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| SNO, Gibson (3/81) ABRD1021 |
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| Concertgebouw, Ashkenazy (7/82) SXDL7563 |
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As is well known, Rachmaninov sanctioned (or at least did not strenuously protest at) a number of lengthy cuts in this very long symphony, and until fairly recently a performance of the work in its entirety was quite rare. Maazel, like the other conductors listed above, gives it complete (save for the exposition repeat in the first movement) with all its leisurely sequences and unhurried transitions intact. The advantages of completeness are considerable: the bold contours of the symphony's structure are apt to seem awkward if supposedly inessential repetitions and apparently unnecessary bridge passages are lopped off. Paradoxically the work seems longer, certainly more ramshackle without them. There are dangers, though. The symphony is in fact so ingeniously structured, its themes so closely related (and in a way so similar, derived as they mostly are from the stepwise cell in the opening two bars) that it can easily seem repetitive. And the enormous windings-up to and windings-down from Rachmaninov's sonorously impassioned melodies need masterful control if they are not to become turgid, the dull but no doubt necessary price paid for the glorious tunes that they separate.
Maazel's reading has all the virtuosity necessary for this. In a work that can appear overscored he provides massive but never clogged orchestral sound a fine range of textural contrast; he brings light and vitality to even the densest climax. The BPO play superbly, untroubled even by his very fast tempo for the finale or the exceptionally crisp, snappy phrasing he asks them for in the scherzo. There is abundant richness, too: the string sound, upon which the plangency of so many of those melodies relies, is quite sumptuous, with never a hint of the glare that once or twice disfigures Ashkenazy's admirable performance on Decca. What Maazel's reading lacks can easily be judged by comparing the opening pages of the first movement or the Adagio with the corresponding passages in Previn's HMV account.
In many symphonies Maazel's slight coolness at these points, his affectionate but restrained phrasing, his concentration on beauty and purity of sound, would be quite praiseworthy, but Previn, by wearing his heart on his sleeve, by using rubato and if anything a slightly exaggerated attention to the composer's markings, goes unerringly to the music's emotional centre. Nothing but total commitment will do, and Maazel lacks the last couple of per cent of it. His Adagio seems very slow (in fact it is very close to Rachmaninov's marking) but in Previn's, which is not much faster, one is hardly aware of the tempo at all because of the more urgent expressive warmth. It is rather typical that in Maazel's hugely exciting finale it is the moments of lyrical relief that seem rushed and that he finds scarcely a hint of disquiet in the trio section of the scherzo (Ashkenazy, who discovers ambiguous shadows in the scherzo itself as well, is quite superb here). It is a cruelly demanding symphony, this, and Maazel satisfies its demands with finer playing than Gibson (Chandos) or even Askenazy can provide and a rhythmic impetus that none of his rivals surpasses: the recording, too, is excellent. But as Previn's performance so eloquently demonstrates, it is fervent, even histrionic passion that the work needs above all other qualities, and Maazel's account is crucially short of it. It accordingly seems long. One begins fatally to wonder whether a few of those cuts, after all . . .
MEO