No comparisons listed because this ‘Unknown Prokofiev’ collection is more innovative than it looks: neither work is currently available in quite this form. The Op 58 Cello Concerto was meant for the West and has had a checkered history following its unsuccessful Soviet premiere in 1938. Prokofiev later returned to the material at the behest of Mstislav Rostropovich, remoulding it into what we now know as the Symphony-Concerto Op 125. The original score has been little heard since. Janos Starker’s oft-reissued LP (Columbia, 7/57 – nla) is sometimes accorded ‘classic’ status, but, with three major cuts in the finale and dated sound, it can scarcely be regarded as definitive. Christine Walenska (Philips, 1/93 – nla) offered better (still analogue) sound but another radically abbreviated text. Listening to Ivashkin’s big, bold account of the unadulterated score, it is not difficult to see why earlier exponents felt compelled to tamper. But then the concerto as a whole is oddly plotted. Its thematic substance, mostly familiar from the Symphony-Concerto revamp, is strong, yet not obviously ‘defined’, too often thrown away – and indeed brought back – in Prokofiev’s most disconcerting manner. That said, the concerto’s opening paragraph is a magnificent piece of writing (revisited unexpectedly, in this complete original version, during the theme and variation finale). And despite the antic disposition (and inordinate length) of that final movement, not to mention the immense difficulty of the solo writing, this is music no Prokofiev admirer can afford to miss. What we need now is a modern recording of the similarly ‘transitional’ ballet, On the Dneiper (Sur le Borysthene).
The Concertino Op 132, one of the pieces on which Prokofiev was working at the time of his death, is far blander, even in Vladimir Blok’s posthumous edition – leaner and more transparent than the version we usually hear as prepared by Rostropovich and Kabalevsky. The present rendition incorporates a cadenza based on suggestions from the terminally ill Alfred Schnittke. I leave you to decide what to make of it!
The performances, like the recordings, are vivid, not overly refined. Cellist, academician and Schnittke intimate, Alexander Ivashkin has already proved himself a powerfully idiomatic exponent of Prokofiev’s instrumental music with cello (Ode Manu Classics, CDMANU 1517). He is on impassioned form here too. The balance has him placed well to the fore, but Polyansky gets more positive results from the orchestra than is sometimes the case with recordings from this source. Ivashkin also contributes helpful notes, although he exaggerates the extent of Op 58’s neglect by the record companies. Warmly recommended