Volume 4 again couples a great rarity with a work that is familiar, at least to Miaskovskians. The Fourth Symphony was planned as a work 'quiet, simple and humble'. These qualities must have been channelled through a charcoaled mirror for the mood is typically subdued for the first five minutes before rushing along in one of Miaskovsky's scurrying scherzos - one part Rimsky and two parts utterly original Miaskovsky. The Sibelian upward striking flute glissandi amid brass calls are highly original. Note also the fractured trumpet fanfares echoing and the Sibelian woodwind at I - 9.40. This is a really striking coup. Listen also to how he unleashes the furies at 13.43. The Fourth is determined and stern even when it moves with speed and fury. In track 3 at 18.00 Kaschei's ecstasy is referred to - a momentary revelation. The work fascinates also for the first stirrings (5.48 track 3) of material to be developed in the tragic-heroic Fifth. These can be heard in the allegro energico finale. Also notable is some utterly unique dialoguing between dour brass and sibelian woodwind. It ends with a totally surprising positive major key 'blare' right out of Tchaikovsky 5 and Rimsky-Korsakov.

The Svetlanov Eleventh Symphony 'competes' with Veronika Dudarova's Moscow SO version on another time-expired Olympia (OCD133 issued in 1987!). Dudarova later recorded a respectable digital Sixth for Olympia in the 1990s but she also gave the world a rather sleepy Glazunov Oriental Fantasy - not the best of Glazunov anyway. Dudarova's Eleventh goes at a smarter clip than Svetlanov's (31.09 rather than 34.46). The Symphony is certainly worth having and Svetlanov does it very well indeed. He breathes a ruddy life into the work which is written in Miaskovsky's most accessible style. The horn-lofted theme at 3.45 is tossed from section to section of the orchestra with confident abandon and it works ... in spades. The offbeat strokes and stutters of the end of the first movement demonstrate Miaskovsky's originality and his judgement. The Andante is delicate and warming using the nostalgic Grieg-like sound familiar from the string serenades and Sinfonietta. The theme is a variant of the hurrying scherzo element from the first movement. The Precipitato-Allegro is in ingenious variation form - tightly put together rather than loquacious. The premiere was in Moscow on 16 January 1933. It is dedicated to Maximilian Steinberg, the son-in-law of Rimsky-Korsakov and no mean symphonist himself. His five are gradually being recorded by DG with Neeme Järvi directing. The First and Second are already available. And I wonder if John Williams got the threatening shark figure from Jaws through hearing the Lento preamble to the Allegro Agitato.

Rob Barnett

More from Miaskovsky‚ here with hints of Tchaikovsky‚ Rachmaninov and Bruckner

With these fourth and fifth instalments of Olympia’s Miaskovsky cycle‚ the composer’s twin­track creative trajectory comes more clearly into focus. Alongside symphonies which trudge through boggy chromatic terrain en route to the pared­down and speculative idiom of No 13 (4/02)‚ we find him essaying the more traditional‚ Rimskyish brand of invention heard so affectingly in the Symphony No 25 (4/02). This melodic vein is present as early as the Fifth of 1918. The Fifth was one of the scores that won Miaskovsky an international following in the years between the Wars‚ with performances in New York‚ Chicago and Philadelphia. Its highlights include the vernal opening‚ as fresh as early Scriabin‚ and a jolly‚ folk­derived scherzo. The Franckian slitherings of the slow movement and the bloated apotheosis of the finale are perhaps more of an acquired taste. Nevertheless‚ if you respond to the sounds of Glazunov or Glière‚ this is similar‚ arguably classier stuff (for all that Prokofiev‚ Miaskovsky’s closest friend‚ was upset by its reactionary tendencies). For this work‚ Svetlanov’s orchestra boasts a more authentic timbre than Sir Edward Downes’s BBC Philharmonic‚ though whether this makes up for an evident shortage of rehearsal time is a moot point. Olympia’s recorded sound has the greater immediacy‚ only don’t expect the glossy Chandos production values with which you’ll be familiar if you are a fan of Glazunov or Glière’s music. Svetlanov’s coupling is the Symphony No 12‚ originally touted as the Kolkhoz or ‘Collective Farm’ Symphony (1931­32) – a reminder of what Russian­Soviet composers had to put up with even before the promulgation of Socialist Realism. Indeed‚ that nebulous doctrine was widely welcomed precisely because it ended the ascendency of a simple­minded proletarian faction vehemently opposed to ‘bourgeois’ symphonic development. While Miaskovsky feigned the required topicality‚ his musical response (in so far as one can detect one at all in this old­fashioned‚ three­movement piece) was to beef up the jollification quotient of the finale in a style more usually associated with British film scores of a slightly later date. The companion disc pairs two symphonies self­consciously worked from limited thematic means. The generally grim and resentful Fourth‚ unsurprisingly neglected on disc until now‚ was written back to back with the Fifth. Its dour atmosphere must have something to do with the recent horrors of the composer’s military career. The shades of Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique‚ Rachmaninov’s Second and Mahler’s Sixth are pressed into service‚ yet also remind one that there are less turgid ways to convey negative emotion. Symphony No 11 (1931) is generally lighter in texture‚ and‚ like the Fifth‚ will repay repeated listening. At its heart is an austere‚ deeply felt slow movement‚ at times curiously reminiscent of Sibelius‚ while wholly characteristic in its embrace of ‘elevated’ melodic ideas and an idiosyncratic fugato treatment for solo woodwind. The finale is a set of variations­cum­sonata movement. One idea anticipates the first of Rachmaninov’s Symphonic Dances (can such resemblances be purely coincidental or is there a common source?); another variant is positively Brucknerian. Variable‚ sometimes sketchy playing‚ but decent recording and detailed notes make this a series well worth following.

Gramophone, May 2002