Daniele Gatti’s Tchaikovsky has everything: passion, precision, and a real interpretive point of view. Given the erratic quality of his previous releases for Conifer, it’s very satisfying to hear this conductor comfortably in his element, in multiple releases, working with a label prepared to do him justice both sonically and commercially. If you enjoyed his outstanding Tchaikovsky Fourth, then you’ll find this new Sixth equally appealing, for it bespeaks very much the same interpretive sensibility. To help you get a sense of the interpretation (assuming that you’re a Pathétique maven), the version this newcomer most resembles is Pletnev’s first recording for Virgin Classics, the one that caused such a stir when it was first released and that seemed to show, wrongly as it turned out, that Pletnev could conduct as interestingly as he plays the piano. In short, this is a swift, balletic reading–but you shouldn’t push the similarities too far, because fine as that earlier recording was, Gatti is a much more accomplished conductor generally.
He begins the first movement at a flowing tempo, a clear indication that forward momentum never will be sacrificed in order to exaggerate the music’s already extreme emotionalism. The allegro begins correctly as a real, agitated allegro, and it picks up steam naturally and inexorably. In the lyrical second subject Gatti builds tension through rhythmic control and careful balancing of the surging accompaniment rather than by slowing down and making a climax of every phrase. His approach, in other words, is very Italianate, which is exactly right since Tchaikovsky’s technique here comes straight from Italian opera (Mahler also said so in considering this symphony).
There’s a tendency in this movement for conductors to exaggerate its sectional divisions (first and second subjects, development, recap, etc.) and play each as an independent unit. But the trick, of course, lies in creating unity out of diversity, and that’s where Gatti is so strong. The raging development is certainly ferocious, but Gatti understands that the real climax comes at the great exordium in the recapitulation that leads back to the second subject, and he never loses sight of his ultimate goal. He achieves this culmination not by halving the tempo and drowning everyone in timpani and trombones, but by maintaining the music’s basic pulse, which allows the brass section to connect its phrases in one huge arch of musical pathos. When the second subject returns, we now can hear that Gatti has reserved its most passionate repetition for the violins’ last reprise, and so it comes as a genuine emotional reaction to the preceding tragic climax. The swift coda puts a noble stamp on a masterly interpretation.
The second movement’s fluidity and lilt result in an unusual emphasis on the lopsided, five-in-a-bar rhythm. It’s rather remarkable how clearly this comes through at this graceful tempo, and how unnoticeable it can be when taken just a hair slower. Gatti also takes the brilliant ensuing march about as quickly as the Royal Philharmonic can play it (just a few seconds more than Mravinsky’s Leningraders, which is saying a lot). There’s energy aplenty, with really exciting brass contributions, but not a trace of vulgarity or coarseness. That makes the comparatively deliberate finale (almost 11 minutes) all the more devastating in its impact, and an effective emotional resolution to the entire symphony. It’s very difficult to emphasize just how hard it is to play this piece well and achieve a just balance between form and content, structure and sentiment. Bernstein did it in his second recording (for DG), using very different methods, and Gatti does it here. It’s a major accomplishment.
The Serenade for Strings makes a very generous coupling, and once again Gatti’s approach pays wonderful dividends in the form of a remarkably fresh, almost neo-classical first movement, an elegant waltz, and a vigorously folksy finale. He also understands that the third-movement Élégie is not a stand-in for the finale of the Sixth Symphony, and so he expresses its sorrow gently. We are aptly reminded throughout of Tchaikovsky’s admiration for Mozart.
In both stereo and multichannel formats the sonics present the orchestra in a warm, natural acoustic, with plenty of impact at the climaxes and an amazing dynamic range. When the bass clarinet before the symphony’s first-movement development section really descends to Tchaikovsky’s unrealistically if hopefully marked sextuple piano (that is, pppppp), you can actually hear it without any loss of the instrument’s tactile presence. This is, in conclusion, a remarkable release in just about every way possible. [2/7/2006]
