Sometimes there is a perfect match between repertoire, conductor, and orchestra: this album is one such example. Featuring the music from two ballets by Armenian composer
Aram Khachaturian, it is very accessible to those who claim they do not like classical music, as its 20th century tonalities and film score-like qualities completely draw the listener in. The first track is dramatic and grand, worthy of a gladiator like Spartacus, and it leads into an adagio that is ethereal with cellos and harps. Conductor
Karabits gets a lush expressiveness from the
Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra, teasing out long, sweeping lines in the violins and creating extremes in mood and emotion. Expansive musical moments are indeed expansive, and poignant moments are appropriately lyrical and tender. Some of the tone color is reminiscent of
Ravel's orchestral works, and there are strong dynamic contrasts that keep the listener attentive. It does not take a great stretch of the imagination to visualize the dancers playfully leaping in a bacchanal here, posing in an arabesque there, or even Baryshnikov pirouetting and tumbling. In Gayaneh,
Khachaturian's interest in folk music is more evident (like
Bartók, he drew on folk melodies for inspiration).
Khachaturian fans may recognize the tune from the B section of "Sabre Dance" (which actually appears in its entirety later in the album), which is from an Armenian folk melody. The album concludes with a regal-sounding procession that is indeed a fitting ending, but it surprises the listener by letting loose into a carnivalesque romp that ends rather suddenly, almost unresolved. One could argue that there is an abundance of beauty and emotion in this album -- dare one go so far as to say schmaltz? -- much like in the music of Hollywood films in their golden age of the 1930s and '40s. But sometimes the world needs that abundance, especially when it is played so movingly by a musically sensitive orchestra and conductor.