CZECHOSLOVAKIA’S BIG 3

Not until the 1960s did the news finally penetrate Western Europe and points even more distant from Czechoslovakia that there were in fact nine symphonies by Antonin Dvorak, rather than five, that there was more to Smetana’s “Ma Vlast” than “The Moldau” and that there was a body of startlingly original music by another, more recent Czech, Leos Janacek.

It was the Czechs themselves who began the large-scale international promotion of their musical heritage with the publication in 1960 of a complete edition of Dvorak’s scores and the setting in motion by the state-owned label, Supraphon, of a huge, multi-composer recording project beginning with the nine Dvorak symphonies.

The commercial industry beyond the Czech borders soon caught on, and since that time Czech music--notably that of the big three, Dvorak, Smetana and Janacek--has become, if not quite part of the recording mainstream, then at least a strong current.

The activity of the 1960s was responsible for bringing to light a treasure such as Dvorak’s D-minor Symphony, Opus 13 (No. 4), music of youthful ardor in which the composer of the later, nationalistic works is only faintly foreshadowed. The Wagner influence dominates, with Dvorak ringing a few spectacular changes, perhaps unconsciously, on themes from “Tannhaeuser” and “Meistersinger,” while creating Wagner-inspired melodies of his own that are sufficiently grandiose and memorable to compete with the real stuff.

In its first compact disc outing (Supraphon 33C37-7442), the Fourth Symphony is played by the Czech Philharmonic under Vaclav Neumann’s fervid direction--an interpretation both rousingly spirited and exquisitely detailed.

Dvorak’s Eighth, the Symphony in G, Opus 88, once a distant second in popularity to the Ninth (“New World”), is nowadays perhaps the most frequently performed of the composer’s large orchestral works--and the most frequently recorded, with the lists recently swelled by two new entries.

One of them is imposing indeed: a conceptually lush and energetic, flawlessly executed and sonically spectacular production by the Cleveland Orchestra under Christoph von Dohnanyi, with the bonus of a hot-blooded rendition by the same forces of Dvorak’s brilliant “Scherzo capriccioso” (London 414 422, LP or CD). Whatever may be left of Dohnanyi’s reputation as a somewhat staid conductor should be laid to rest with this marvelous program.

The second, new Dvorak-Eighth entry, a rough and ready run-through by the scrappy Houston Symphony conducted by Sergiu Comissiona (Centaur CRC 2018, CD only), is thoroughly outclassed by Cleveland/Dohnanyi--in quality of execution and recorded clarity as well as value, the Texas-originated version taking up an entire disc.

The 16 Slavonic Dances of Dvorak’s Opus 46 and Opus 72 can be had in two recent recorded editions: Neeme Jarvi and the Scottish National Orchestra fit the works onto a single, clean-sounding compact disc (Chandos 8406)--without rushing or stinting on repeats--while Antal Dorati and the Royal Philharmonic require the better part of two discs (London 411735, LP or CD), with the “American” Suite of Dvorak as an insubstantial makeweight.

The Jarvi readings, while not at all lacking in folksy ebullience, stress the contrasts in the dances--their alternations of aggressiveness and reflectiveness, lyric arches and terse inflections. Dorati consistently goes for the gut in his whirling, slashing, rather pushy but undeniably gripping traversal.

Smetana is represented by a rare recording--quite likely only the second one in 40 years--of the programmatic String Quartet in E minor, “From My Life,” as transcribed for orchestra by conductor George Szell (Chandos 8412, CD).

While the original quartet clearly suggests orchestral sonorities, Szell’s treatment for the full, late-Romantic arsenal of strings, woodwinds, brass and percussion seems ill-suited to the more tender and playful sections of the composition--until one hears it. It all works exceedingly well, so sensitively does Szell translate the melodic and rhythmic inspiration of the original into the new medium, and so closely does he adhere to the textures to be found in Smetana’s own orchestral music.

It would work even better on this occasion if Geoffrey Simon, who leads the London Symphony capably enough, were more intent on dynamic subtlety, less on climactic thunder. And his ideas on the accompanying material, the overture and dances from Smetana’s “Bartered Bride,” lack the requisite bumptious charm and insouciance.

Janacek’s “Mladi” (Youth), dating from 1924, his 70th year, is a dazzle of quirky rhythms and pinpricks of melody, irresistible in its clever, good-natured eccentricity; it is played with wit and sparkling dexterity by members of the New York-based Orpheus Chamber Orchestra. The program (on Deutsche Grammophon 415 668, LP or CD) also includes Orpheus’ polished, sweet-toned readings of a pair of works by Bartok, the Divertimento for string orchestra and the Romanian Folk Dances, the latter in the composer’s exquisite, rarely encountered version for strings and winds.