Fans of Charles Mackerras should be thrilled by this Supraphon release of a 2007 live concert of Josef Suk’s (1874–1935) masterpiece, Asrael. It’s a fascinating work, superbly guided by the American-born, Australian-raised conductor who has been universally acclaimed for his championship of Czech music and aptly described in one eulogy (he died in July 2010) as “one man for all seasons of music who lived for his art and for the bettering of its execution.”
It can’t be said, however, that this recording has no equals. If you haven’t become acquainted with this heartfelt, somewhat complicated, and derivatively styled work, you can’t go wrong by starting with Mackerras’ rendition. But Jiří Bělohlávek’s interpretation on the Chandos label (in slightly better stereo, if a bit echoic at times) and Vladimir Ashkenazy’s on Ondine are equally fine if you already own them, not to mention those by Václav Neumann and others. The definitive approach to the music still takes honors with one of Mackerras’ instructors, Václav Talich, in a fine monophonic recording from the early 1950s.
It’s quite surprising, if fact, that there are so many good recordings out there for a work that hasn’t been played in North America since four second-tier orchestras attempted it around 10 years ago. Unfortunately, no first-tier orchestra seems to have recorded it anywhere, so the extremely difficult brass parts have never been satisfactorily realized.
Listen To The Music
Asrael: Symphony For Large Orchestra In C Minor: I. Andante Sostenuto (exceprt)Asrael: Symphony For Large Orchestra In C Minor: III. Vivace (exceprt)
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The hour-long symphony is named after the angel associated (either actively or passively) with death in Islamic and in some Christian offshoot traditions. Death did a double whammy on Suk: The death of his mentor and spiritual advisor, Antonin Dvořák, in May 1904 moved Suk to begin the symphony. Tragically, as he was beginning the fourth movement, his wife, Otilka (Dvořák’s daughter), died. This caused Suk to revamp the last movement into two Adagios, the first in memoriam to her.
If you’re listening to the symphony for the first time, the sincerity and power of the music can’t be denied. You’ll hear sounds like Dvořák’s in the many delicate moments — the “nature” theme from the elder Czech composer’s last tone poems is apparent. But then Tchaikovsky seems to emerge in busy passages. Most of all, you hear the influence of Richard Strauss in the interplay — in masterful orchestration — of a seeming myriad of motives. Yet, an hour’s worth of this stuff with fewer immediately striking melodies shows why the composers whom Suk modeled are better known today.
Nevertheless, this is a symphony worth further acquaintance. If you read up, as you might for Strauss or Wagner, on the meanings attached to the motives you hear — such as the quotations from Dvořák’s Requiem, the love tunes and the double-tritoned “Death” motive from Suk’s earlier incidental music to Radúz and Mahulena — and if you pay attention to the fascinating structures within and between movements, a deceptively profound work emerges to repay your efforts. You’ll understand why this symphony is one of the most respected works of all time in the Czech Republic.