Karina Canellakis, Netherlands Radio Philharmonic Orchestra: Bartók: Concerto for Orchestra
Pentatone

For her first release with the Netherlands Radio Philharmonic Orchestra (RFO) on Pentatone (with whom she has a long-term, multi-album partnership), its charismatic Chief Conductor Karina Canellakis presents two works by Béla Bartók (1881-1945), his seminal Concerto for Orchestra and riveting Four Orchestral Pieces. Rather than record premieres of new works by a living composer, she's selected ones that will naturally invite comparison to other recordings, the oft-covered concerto in particular. Being as firmly established as they are, the works invite critical scrutiny less for their merit as artistic creations and more for how well Canellakis's versions compare to others. Captured live at Hilversum's Muziekcentrum van de Omroep in July 2022, both pieces receive stellar readings. Each is rendered with precision, passion, and consummate attention to orchestral colour, detail, and dynamics. If they're not the definitive realizations of the works, they're nonetheless eminently credible interpretations.

Her position with the RFO is but one iron the NYC-born-and-raised Canellakis has in the fire. She's also the Principal Guest Conductor of both the London Philharmonic Orchestra and the Rundfunk-Sinfonieorchester Berlin. Initially establishing herself as a violinist, she was encouraged by none other than Simon Rattle to pursue conducting when she played in the Berlin Philharmonic as a member of their Orchester-Akademie. She's been a guest conductor with leading orchestras such as the Boston Symphony, Cleveland Orchestra, Chicago Symphony, Philadelphia Orchestra, Orchestre de Paris, and London Symphony Orchestra, and her performances of pieces by Wagner, Janácek, Mozart, and Peter Maxwell Davies have been received with considerable acclaim.

The juxtaposition of the Bartók works amplifies their differences. Originally written for two pianos in 1912 and orchestrated nine years later, Four Orchestral Pieces stems from the time of Bluebeard's Castle (1911), and echoes of it audibly surface in the presentation by Canellakis and the RFO. The enduring, folk tune-inflected Concerto for Orchestra derives from the last part of his life and reflects the mastery of craft often exemplified by a composer in his final output; serenity informs certain passages too in a manner that suggests an artist content with his accomplishments.

Four Orchestral Pieces begins with the arresting “Preludio,” which in its deeply atmospheric opening moments could be mistaken for Debussy (see Pelléas et Mélisande). Mystery-laden piano and tremolo strings redirect the material to Bluebeard's Castle, after which a palpable sense of foreboding brands the piece with Bartók's indelible signature. Evocative in the extreme, the tone painting ushers in images of dark, spirit-possessed forests and romantic longing, if not despair. Opening with a bold Beethovian flourish, “Scherzo” adds rhythmic bombast to the work in a series of violent ruptures, serpentine woodwinds, snarling brass, and agitated pulses. Don't be surprised if you're reminded of The Miraculous Mandarin (1918-24) as the woodwinds dance seductively. Following the relentlessness of the second piece, the intoxicating “Intermezzo” enchants with shimmering strings and a haunted quality that again positions us before a soon-to-be-opened door inside the castle. The work closes with the intense “Marcia funebre,” which oscillates between gentle woodwind utterances and fervent orchestral declamations and conveys a sense of harrowing desolation. In its most emphatic moments, it too calls to mind the chilling shrieks that accompany the door-openings in Bartók's opera.

Completed, amazingly, in a mere two months, the five-movement concerto was originally written for the Boston Symphony and its conductor Sergei Koussevitzsky. The performance by Canellakis and the RFO starts well. The ghostly strings with which the opening movement begins establishes the work's tone effectively. Yet after the horns make their emphatic entrance, the pace accelerates until it feels as if the orchestra's rushing rather than luxuriating in the music's beauty and splendour. Even so, moments of contemplation provide a counter to that push, and there's also no doubting the vigour with which the material's executed. The playful second movement is also taken at a slightly livelier tempo than usual, though in this case that works in its favour when the RFO's playing is so spirited. Described by Canellakis as “the true heart of this entire work,” the central “Elegia” is suitably eerie and evocative, its shadowy realm conjured through the composer's commanding deployment of woodwind textures. After a passionate outpouring of shrieking violins floods the space, eeriness returns. The fourth movement, an “interrupted intermezzo,” brings radiance to the work, never more so than during the lyrical strings-and-harp episode that arrives early and lends the work a playful, even whimsical quality (at one point, Bartók even makes a cheeky reference to Shostakovich's seventh symphony). The invigorating “Finale” is robust, naturally, a perpetual motion machine that features the orchestra playing at high velocity and with focused drive. A few “Tranquillo” moments emerge to slow the proceedings, but for the most part the concluding movement's a climactic eruption of energy.

June 2023