Nostradamus, the sixteenth-century mystic and prophet, made many startling predictions, as most surely know--predictions that some believe came true with astounding regularity, even though many were made centuries before the forecast events occurred. One of his more esoteric and apocalyptic ones was that, "[I]n 1999 a king will come out of the sky and Mars will emerge the victor." Pretty scary stuff. Maybe we won't have to worry about Y2K. Listening to "Mars, The Bringer of War," the opening movement of The Planets, one hears a veritable musical Armageddon in this re-release from 1997. I have never heard such a savage performance of this music. Never. This recording, originally from 1961, often features playing that exudes wanton power and warlike character, voraciously intent upon gobbling up all obstacles in its sonic quest to register on some nearby Richter scale.
But there is excitement aplenty in all this power, not just decibel-laden bluster: details emerge cleanly; rhythms are emphatic and urgent; and dynamics and a sense of climax, critical elements here, are perfectly rendered. "Venus" is touching in its peaceful sadness; "Mercury" is fleet and deliciously diaphanous. The whole reading is incisive and enlightening in capturing the essence of each planet portrait. The recent Dutoit, also on London, is beautifully played and thoughtfully interpreted, though relatively tame compared with this one by
Karajan, surely one of his finest recordings. As a footnote to my commentary about Nostradamus, I should mention that the reference to Mars in his prediction most probably refers to the god of war, not to the planet. If that comes as a disappointment to the prophets of doom among you, cheer up: though we won't be crushed by Martians, fellow earthlings will do us in--if Nostradamus is correct!
For all the aural and visceral excitement generated by Holst's most popular work,
Elgar's Enigma Variations comes across clearly as the greater, more profound piece. Some call it this British composer's greatest creation. That's saying a lot when one considers the high quality of the symphonies, concertos, The Dream of Gerontius, and other works. But the assessment begs notice still: are there any other theme-and-variations orchestral works that surpass this masterpiece in sheer beauty and subtle construction? Brahms' Haydn Variations come to mind, but don't emerge the winner.
For those who may not know what the "Enigma" in the title refers to here, let me say it pertains to a second or counter-theme in the piece--a theme which is never heard. If it is unheard, you ask, how can it be in the work? Well, that's part of the enigma; but bear in mind that it may be musically implied somewhere. Elgar revealed his secret to three people, all of whom took it with them to the grave. So we can only speculate about what the theme is. One theory is that since each variation describes a friend of Elgar (or love--his wife is depicted in the first), the second theme is a non-musical one, that of friendship. Who knows?
What we do know for sure is that this 1958 reading is on the same artistic level as its decidedly quite different disc mate. Monteux, a Frenchman who was principal conductor of the
London Symphony Orchestra from 1961 until his death in 1964, goes to the heart of this wonderful piece, capturing its British elegance, its sensual (and unVictorian) romance, its kinetic verve, and its buoyant color.
Sir Adrian Boult and many others have made splendid recordings of this work, but Monteux's rendition can stand with the best.
Good notes and quite vivid and detailed sound in both recordings, especially considering their age.