Century: Pictures Exhibition [Import]

Two things conspired to keep me from discovering this one-of-a-kind 'Pictures at an Exhibition' sooner. First, there are enough great recordings to go around from Reiner, Karajan, Stokowksi--name your own. Second, I assumed that Bernstien would conduct this thrice-familiar piece simply as a commercial duty. I was wrong: this is the most personal performance among the great ones. Bernstein has ideas and feelings in every section, and with the NY Phil. at its virtuosic best, the whole thing is an enchanting discovery.

Bernstein's secret is that he goes to the heart of the music rather than just conducting Ravel's brilliant orchestration. As a result, we feel we are looking at separate paintings on the wall, just as Mussorgsky intended, each with its own flavor, more often than not tinged with melancholy (after all, Mussorgsky's artist friend had died). Compared to this account, all the others I own seem a bit shallow and glittery--this one is pure soul.

The sound is impeccable in the current remastering, and we get two outstanding fillers. First, a thrilling Night on Bald Mountain that gives Stokowski's a run for its money while retaining more musical integrity. Second, Bernstein accompanies his great fried, mezzo Jennie Tourel, in four Songs and Dances of Death (in clean early Fifties mono). It's interesting to hear a non-Slavic voice in these pieces, and our two performers are so ebullient that they turn in one of the least grim versions on disc.

For the Pictures to really "work", its conductor needs to find the right balance, avoiding sterility while still sounding pictorial. There's lots of room for personality, though; it's not that a conductor has a limited range of options. Leonard Bernstein is one of the most talented conductors we've ever seen, but some may fear that he will overindulge (a criticism so common with him it's long been a cliché).

Never fear; he doesn't overindulge. I was astonished at how sensitive he was, actually. Keen to find meaning in the work's intricacies, he pulls a wide range of color from New York. But he does much more than produce fine orchestral playing. Each individual picture is vibrant in its own world. Bernstein seems to be taken an inward look, almost as if though he were painting the work with his own personalized brush. Momentum is never lacking, but what strikes me the most isn't Bernstein's electricity. There's a strong idiomatic feel, one that makes a cogent impression of nostalgia. I find everything gripping, but this isn't so much a powerhouse display as much as a gentle stroll through the exhibition. The catcher isn't the strolling part, of course, but the pictures that make an indelible impression on its spectators.

"The Night on the Bare Mountain" is grotesque just like it should be. New York plays with compelling vigor, and Bernstein doesn't try to tame the work. He's with New York every step of the way, adding elements of spookiness that creep up around surprise corners. All the orchestral details are there for our enjoyment, but Bernstein's priorities are straight: first and foremost he wants us to hear the work's haunted atmosphere. Fine orchestral playing comes, but on the wing.

I'm not a fan of the "Songs and Dances of Death", but Bernstein is a fine pianist and Jennie Tourel sings with conviction. It's caught in good mono sound.

Prepare for a delightful Pictures full of fun while still keeping sight of the composer's drama.

Just the Pictures on a Exhibition would have been worth it, but with the added Songs and Dances of Death, this CD is truly amazing. Get this CD.