Profil “Profiles” Conductor Kirill Kondrashin

courtesy of Naxos of America

During the Fifties most Americans knew very little, if anything, about Russian conductors. Indeed, that was a time when the national mood was so paranoid that the mention of any Russian musician (with the possible exception of David Oistrakh) would open one to being suspected as a Communist sympathizer. Fortunately, all that changed in 1958 when the Soviet Union launched its first International Tchaikovsky Competition. Determined to promote the superiority of Russian musicians, the Soviet authorities had to endure the embarrassment of the first prize going to an American, the pianist Van Cliburn.

RCA Victor did not waste any time cashing in on Cliburn’s success. Shortly after Cliburn claimed his prize, they released an album of him playing the composition that won him that prize, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s Opus 23 (first) piano concerto in B-flat minor. The ensemble was listed as the “RCA Victor Symphony Orchestra,” which tended to be the generic name for a pickup group. However, Cliburn himself requested that the ensemble be led by the conductor under whom he had performed during the competition. Consequently, Kiril Kondrashin was allowed to leave Russia to make the recording in the United States, an event that was as historic as the competition itself. The resulting album became the first classical recording to go platinum; and, while Cliburn’s was the name on everyone’s lips, Americans were gradually becoming aware of the name of Russian conductor.

By 1958 Kondrashin was recognized as a major Soviet conductor, complete with a Stalin Medal that had been awarded in 1947. In 1956 he had left the Bolshoi Theatre to become one of the principal conductors of the Moscow Philharmonic. In 1960 he was named that ensemble’s Artistic Director, a post he held until 1976. By that time he enjoyed the same international recognition given to Mstislav Rostropovich, Sviatoslav Richter, and, of course, Oistrakh; so it came as no great surprise (at least in the West) when he defected from the Soviet Union in December of 1978.

At the beginning of this month, Profil released its latest anthology of recordings of historical significance. This is a collection of thirteen CDs entitled Kyrill Kondrashin Edition: 1937–1963. As can be seen from the dates, all of the recordings were made when Kondrashin was a Soviet citizen; but a few of the performances were recorded outside the Soviet Union. Indeed, there is even one recording, made of Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s Opus 34 “Capriccio espagnol,” which is attributed to that RCA Victor Symphony Orchestra. However, the date is given as 1957, meaning that it predates Kondrashin’s visit to the United State with Cliburn. Most likely this is a misprint: The RCA vinyl of Kondrashin and the RCA Victor Symphony Orchestra playing both Rimsky-Korsakov’s Opus 34 and Tchaikovsky’s Opus 45 Capriccio Italien was released in 1959. The Profil track listing gives 1958 as the year in which Opus 45 was recorded. In all likelihood Opus 34 was recorded in the same session along the the Cliburn concerto recording. (All of those sessions took place in Carnegie Hall.) RCA probably assumed that Kondrashin’s trip to the United States might be a once-in-a-lifetime affair; and they wanted to get what they could out of the occasion!

The track listing also has the performance of Tchaikovsky’s Opus 48 serenade in C major as having been made in 1960 with the Staatskapelle Dresden, but it does not indicate whether it was made when that ensemble was visiting Russia or when Kondrashin was visiting Dresden. More specific are two recordings made in Prague with the Czech Philharmonic in May (Dmitri Shostakovich’s Opus 107 cello concerto in E-flat major with soloist Rostropovich) and July (Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Opus 44 symphony in A minor) of 1960. The Rostropovich recording is one of two, the other being of Tchaikovsky’s Opus 62 “Pezzo capriccioso.” Oistrakh, for his part, makes three appearances, two of which are for Tchaikovsky selections, the Opus 26 “Sérénade mélancolique” in B-flat minor and the Opus 35 violin concerto in D major.

The description thus far may lead the reader to suspect that the entire collection consists of “the usual Russian suspects.” While the balance definitely tips in favor of the Russians, Oistrakh’s third contribution is Maurice Ravel’s “Tzigane;” and that is the final track on a CD devoted entirely to Ravel. Of particular interest is that both of Ravel’s piano concertos are included, the “Concerto in G” with pianist Yakov Zak and the left-hand concerto with Emil Gilels. Even more unexpected is the presence of a 1961 recording of the Moscow Philharmonic Orchestra performing Paul Hindemith’s “Symphonic Metamorphosis of Themes by Carl Maria von Weber” in an account that is as fresh and witty as any recording available by a Western ensemble.

Indeed, the diversity of this collection is so great that it even includes a full opera. The last two CDs are devoted to Bedřich Smetana’s The Bartered Bride. Mind you, because the recording was made in 1949 at the Bolshoi Theater, the text is a Russian translation of Karel Sabina’s libretto, translated by Kondrashin himself working with Sergey Mikhalkov. (Fun fact about Mikhalkov: Since he was born in 1913 and died in 2009, he is probably the only author to have written lyrics for his country’s national anthem on three different occasions!)

Beyond the diversity, however, the real value of these recordings resides in Kondrashin’s talent as a conductor. He knew how to bring clarity to whatever he was conducting, regardless of when or where it was written. That capacity for clarity also included the bond of communication he could establish with any of his instrumental soloists. One can appreciate why Cliburn insisted that Kondrashin accompany him to the United States for his RCA recording debut. Half a century or more later, a new generation of listeners can now appreciate how much Kondrashin had to offer through his talents as a conductor.