Rachmaninov's The Isle of the Dead and Symphonic Dances
The Gramophone Choice
The Isle of the Dead. Symphonic Dances
London Philharmonic Orchestra / Vladimir Jurowski
LPO LPO0004 (51’ · DDD/DSD) Recorded live 2003-04. Buy from Amazon
The electricity Jurowski can generate is clearly established in the Symphonic Dances, leading up to a thrilling close, and if the hushed sequence of The Isle of the Dead is not a work to bring such a rush of adrenalin, the mystery of this piece inspired by Böcklin’s great painting is perfectly caught. These are fine performances that gain in tension from being recorded live. Even if this involves some odd balances, the definition of detail is good and one can readily rectify the rather low level of the CD transfer.
What for many might give pause is that, by the standards of rival versions (both Previn and Jansons pair Symphony No 1 with The Isle of the Dead and Symphony No 3 with the Symphonic Dances), this is an ungenerous coupling, even when you take into account the fact that Jurowski’s speeds are broader. Yet these LPO performances are both recommendable and will delight anyone wanting a disc from this exciting conductor.
Additional Recommendation
The Isle of the Dead. The Rock, Op 7. Symphonic Dances
Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra / Vasily Petrenko
Avie AV2188 (70’ · DDD) Buy from Amazon
This first disc in the RLPO’s series of Rachmaninov expediently brings together three works from different eras of his life, presenting them in reverse order of composition. The Symphonic Dances (1940), The Isle of the Dead (1909) and The Rock (1893) all have a distinctive Rachmaninov stamp, for which Petrenko has a sure ear, coupled with a stylistic acuity that enables him to point out the differences between the later and the earlier music. In the Symphonic Dances he and his finely honed, malleable RLPO lucidly characterise the tangy instrumental timbres and crisp, syncopated rhythms, while nursing (but not over-pampering) the passages of nostalgia and the sinister allusions to the ‘Dies irae’. In the brooding world of The Isle of the Dead, the shrouded imagery of the opening and ending is both sombre and tender. In rising to the music’s first anguished climax, Petrenko identifies the drooping chromatic woodwind motifs that render the picture all the more chillingly ominous, and the approach to the second is fraught with foreboding.
Deft orchestral equilibrium and supple rubato give The Rock the helping hand it needs. In fact the detail and emotional substance are so sympathetically handled that this early piece, which is by no means unskilled but lacks Rachmaninov’s later finesse, is invested with a passion, lustre and sensitivity that fully justify its being placed alongside two masterpieces of his maturity.
