Smetana’s Ma vlast represents the Lisztian tone-poem at its most imposing and although based on Czech national legend, is fairly universal in its use of melody, orchestral colour and dramatic rhetoric. Some commentators lose interest after “From Bohemia’s Woods and Fields” (the fourth piece in the set), claiming mere bombast and gestural overkill for the more patriotic “Blanik” and “Tabor”; but a really gripping performance binds all six pieces together in the manner of an extended symphony. “Vltava” is the best-known single movement, “Sarka” the most musically impressive and the work as a whole surely exerted an immense influence on film-music composers in the 1930s and 1940s.
Roger Norrington claims that his interpretation of Ma vlast “fuses personal view with historical fact”, a strategy designed to make the work “young again”. To facilitate this goal, he returns to original sources, uses instruments of the period and prefaces his performance with the Czech National Anthem (a local tradition). The net result is certainly interesting, with countless points of textual illumination, separated violin desks, clearly divided harps in “Vysehrad” and a rustic, homespun texture to full tutti passages that frequently invites comparison with a village band (not at all inappropriately). The balance of forces favours the brass, woodwinds and percussion, so that some key passages – such as the tumbledown penultimate climax of “Vysehrad”, at 9'01'' into track 1 – suffer from partially obscured string lines. “Vltava” witnesses some revealing interpretative reportage: crystal-clear harp triplets from 1'29'', prominent horns for the “Hunt in the Woods” (2'54'') and serene pianissimo high strings for the nymphs at 5'30'' (though the trombones at 6'50'' are hardly ppp possible and the piu moto finale is just a little too fast).
“Sarka” – that vengeful Amazon – is at her most impressive where brass and timpani have the upper hand, but although Norrington’s refusal to rush counters the more erratic freedoms indulged by, say, Rafael Kubelik (most notably in Vienna), the ‘love music’ section (3'42'') sounds comparatively earthbound and the dance that follows rather too soft-grained. However, the hammering final chords effect an impressive crescendo (Talich’s wartime recording, due out soon on Biddulph, is similarly compelling) and attentive ears will hear plenty of unfamiliar textural incident elsewhere.
“From Bohemia’s Woods and Fields” is best at 2'59'' where Smetana launches a quietly jigging fugato among the strings, but the ‘big tune’ and polka thereafter lack panache. Both “Tabor” and “Blanik” benefit from Norrington’s brass-heavy textural bias, and the oboe-horn soliloquy 2'24'' into “Blanik” is especially lovely, though, ultimately, I would summon the Czechs themselves (Talich, Kubelik, Smetacek and Valek in particular) for greater intensity, colour and cumulative excitement. Still, Norrington and his players provide a novel and in many ways stimulating slant on a still-underrated masterpiece and Virgin’s recording is impressively dynamic, with a startlingly realistic bass-drum in “Vltava”.'