Roberto Duarte's excellent first disc of Villa-Lobos with the Slovak Radio orchestra (3/92) concentrated on later works by this unbelievably prolific composer: here he goes back to the early career. How far we have come in 75 years is forcibly brought home by the Danca frenetica, which an influential critic in Brazil, when it was first played in 1919, recommended as suitable only for epileptic musicians and paranoiac listeners. To today's ears it seems little more than an energetic, in places slightly sinister, romp (but with one delicate and charming interlude for woodwind, harp and celesta), far from disturbing in its idiom, and making its effect by its colour and rhythmic exuberance. Villa-Lobos's remarkable inventive ingenuity in orchestration is most striking of all in the Danca dos mosquitos of three years later—a piece which deserves to be in the repertoire of all virtuoso orchestras (but at eight and a half minutes perhaps a trifle on the long side). He was still only 35 at the time, and had yet to emerge from his native country and go to Paris, where much was made much of him.
What fascinated the French avant-garde of the day was his exoticism—well illustrated here by the Dancas caracteristicas africanas, which despite their title draw on rhythmic and melodic traits—obsessional in the third dance of the Indians of the Matto Grosso (near the Bolivian border). These pieces were originally written for. piano in 1914 and orchestrated two years later. The main work on this disc is also an orchestration of a piano piece, the composition of which was spread over five years in Paris. This is the discursive and wild Rudepoema, which if it really was intended as a musical portrait of Artur Rubinstein (a staunch champion of his music) rather than himself, depicts him not only as a sensational virtuoso (which we know he was) but a particularly violent and noisy character: it is definitely not a work for bedtime listening or for old ladies of nervous disposition. There is a brilliant performance of it by Nelson Freire (Teldec 12/87): one might expect it to sound even more savage and barbaric in its orchestral dress, but, oddly enough, this is not so.
The Soviet orchestra strives manfully with its formidable demands, and except for some occasional and understandable dizzied insecurity by the violins, succeeds in conveying the composer's extraordinary vision. We are gradually being given the chance to extend our acquaintance with this unique figure, and thanks are due to the present performers and the very skilful sound engineers.'