When a recording of two blockbuster orchestral warhorses, taped back in 1994, comes out for initial release on a small independent label with no history in such repertoire, and it additionally features an unknown conductor leading a major orchestra, then the only description that does the project justice is “vanity disc”. Nevertheless, it’s important not to let extra-musical considerations prejudice the listening experience. I only became curious about these matters after more than one hearing confirmed that what we have here, basically, is a great orchestra working on autopilot. Any group of musicians as thoroughly professional as the Philharmonia can play the average Strauss tone poem regardless of the level of inspiration or encouragement coming from the conductor’s podium. After all, they carried Sinopoli (sort of) through a Mahler cycle, so this job must have been a piece of cake.
The conductor, a young Korean with the usual list of academic credits and performance pedigrees (he studied with someone who studied with someone famous–you know the drill), makes his presence known more for what he does not do than for what he does. For one thing, while a conductorless orchestra can get through the notes more or less together, it’s up to the conductor to handle matters such as instrumental balance, dynamics, phrasing, and, of course, tempo. At least theoretically. The opening of Zarathustra, for example, features excessively loud timpani but weak cymbals. “Of Joys and Passions” has the horns blowing away the violins. Ask any professional what an orchestra will do when facing an inexperienced conductor and he’ll tell you, “The brass will blast and the strings will play everything mezzo-forte.” Bingo. Oh yes, the “flight through the air” variation of Don Quixote has a wind machine so prominent (at a tempo so stodgy) that it’s like listening to music while running your vacuum cleaner. I’d pass on this one.
