Tchaikovsky; Leshnoff: Symphony No. 4; Double Concerto for Clarinet and Bassoon
Reference Recordings

The front cover of this recent Reference Recordings release shows the composers' names large and centrally placed, with the performers, Manfred Honeck and the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, relegated to the lower left at a much smaller size. Admittedly it is the composers and their works that are typically accentuated for a classical release, yet even a single listen suggests that the musicians involved warrant more prominent billing. Stated otherwise, the PSO's performances are so powerful, the release's recommendation stems as much from that as the works involved. Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 4 sounds thoroughly revitalized in this inspired iteration by Honeck and company, and it's accompanied by the world premiere recording of the Double Concerto for Clarinet and Bassoon by American composer Jonathan Leshnoff. Both were recorded live at the Heinz Hall, the PSO's home, though curiously the symphony was recorded in May 2016 and the concerto three years later. Nevertheless, time's passing has done little to diminish the impact of the Tchaikovsky performance.

Adding considerably to the release's appeal are the conductor's commentaries on the work in general and its individual movements. The ‘play-by-play' he provides, each part preceded by Tchaikovsky's own texts on the symphony's four parts, not only aids the listener in monitoring the music's development, it reveals how carefully Honeck analyzed the score during the preparation stages and how thoughtfully he devised an interpretation for the symphony that would remain faithful to its creator's intentions yet also reflect the conductor's personal take. His micro-analysis of the score and the explanations he provides for performance-related decisions benefit the listener greatly. Mention should also be made of the brilliant audiophile sound of the recording, with sound/mirror bringing the music to an exceptionally high level of clarity. Each recording by the PSO under Honeck's direction is cause for excitement, this latest one following many others, including its 2018 Grammy Award-winning release featuring Shostakovich's Symphony No. 5 and Barber's Adagio for Strings ('Best Orchestral Performance,' 'Best Engineered Classical Album').

Biographical details provide a helpful context for Tchaikovsky's symphony, which was completed in January 1878. The year before had been tumultuous, involving as it did the composer's ill-fated marriage to Antonina Miliukova in July 1877 (it lasted but a few weeks though was never annulled) plus the relationship he established with patroness Nadezhda von Meck who, without ever meeting him in person, awarded him 6,000 rubles per year. It's hard to avoid suggesting a parallel between the emotional turbulence he was experiencing in his life, from the despair of recognizing the impossibility of marital union (Tchaikovsky a closeted homosexual) to the joy at being free of financial worries, and the dramatically expressive work itself. Darkness permeates some passages but elation others, the result music of huge emotional extremes. While it is not a formally programmatic work, the notes he shared with von Meck indicate specific impressions and associations align with each movement.

If there's a single word for the epic opening part, it's tempestuous. At one pole there's the recurring ‘fate' theme that in its all-consuming power imparts existential dread; at the other is a sweetly trilling melody that conveys hope and joy. Declamatory horns and trumpets voice the intense ‘fate' theme at the outset, though the playing quickly softens with the appearance of a lament motif. Tension is never far away, however, with the turbulence imposed by the introductory theme always threatening to return. Restlessness pervades an ensuing waltz segment, and agitation surfaces to disrupt any semblance of calm and resolution. Gradually the second theme emerges to counter the darkness of the first, its impish successor a short melody voiced by woodwinds and augmented by silken strings, and subsequent waltz episodes evoke a Ländler character. Oscillations in dynamics and mood permeate the storm-tossed movement, which segues from triumph to despair and back again in a moment.

If hopelessness shadows the first movement, ennui and yearning colour the largely melancholy second. That tone is instated by a solo oboe, after which the arrangement blossoms with majestic, ascending melodies by the strings. The movement's faster middle section assumes a livelier tone emblematic of youth, but melancholy reimposes itself quickly, laying the ground for a tender episode featuring a bird-like flute trill until the movement ends, plaintive bassoon concluding the part in contrast to the bright oboe that initiated it. The robust scherzo, the shortest of the movements, makes good on its “Pizzicato ostinato” billing when lively streams of plucked strings establish a carefree mood that's reinforced by jovial piccolo-and-horns sections. The “Allegro con fuoco” finale is the work's most urgent and boisterous, animated as it is by loud horns, rapid string passages, cymbals, and bass drum. At its core is a theme from the Russian folk song “Vo pole berezka stojala” (“A Birch Stood in the Field”), which is delivered in various combinations. If the work's opening part allows no respite from fate, the final part emphasizes joy (even despite the ‘fate' theme's brief emergence), something Honeck accentuates in the two rapid increases in tempo he implements as the piece careens to its close. While the symphony's parts are hugely contrasting, the performance achieves a sense of cohesiveness, in large part due to the conductor's close reading of the score and the orchestra's responsiveness. Whether or not one agrees with the composer's assessment of it as his “best symphonic work,” there's no question the PSO's inspired rendering is special.

Compared to the symphony, Leshnoff's Double Concerto, which showcases the superb musicianship of the PSO's own clarinetist Michael Rusinek and bassoonist Nancy Goeres, is a vastly different animal. First of all, the eighteen-minute work is chamber-like, the orchestral resources in this case not exploited to their fullest but instead used restrainedly; in fact, it's only during the closing moments of the third movement that the full force of the orchestra comes into play. Such an approach works well, of course, for the soloists in enabling their instruments to be heard clearly without being overpowered. Also striking is the work's structure, Leshnoff opting to follow a quiet opening movement with a lively second and high-energy third rather than position the slow movement in the centre as conventionally done.

The delicate first movement opens with an elegant, moving solo by Goeres, Rusinek joining her soon thereafter and the two woodwinds wrapping themselves harmoniously around one another against a translucent strings backing. There's soloing, naturally, yet the playing never feels self-indulgent but instead inextricably tied to the total musical statement. The composer refers to the second part as a “tipsy” waltz and consistent with that is its playful, even devilish tone, the orchestra again used sparingly to support the soloists' performances. The propulsive concluding movement moves at a sprint, the clarinet and bassoon both charging ahead towards an anticipated finish line and engaging in counterpoint for much of it. Born in 1973, the Baltimore-based composer has seen his star rising of late, with one all-Leshnoff disc on Naxos featuring the Nashville Symphony and the Violins of Hope nominated for a Grammy in 2019, and this charming concerto will do nothing to arrest that ascent. As different as the recording's two works are, they're both treated to performances of integrity and reward attention. Come for the Tchaikovsky, then, but stay for the Leshnoff.

July 2020