I put this disc on expecting decent playing, an acceptable artistic vision, and little more. Was it prejudice? Perhaps it was the fact that recent Naxos efforts in the core repertoire have been so hit-or-miss: Pietari Inkinen’s sometimes-dreary new Sibelius cycle, Jun Märkl’s bland Daphnis et Chloé, the LSO’s similarly bland Brahms and Bartók coupling. Perhaps it was that the Seattle Symphony Orchestra and conductor Gerard Schwarz have previously teamed up (on Naxos and Delos) to provide us with the byways of obscure American (and especially Jewish-American) music: Achron, Bernstein, Diamond, Foss, Hovhaness, Schoenfield, Schuman. Perhaps it was the fact that Scheherazade is easy to play well, but hard to play memorably. So I’ll confess: I had low expectations.
They were blown away. This is spectacular, an effort in which everyone has put their best foot forward. Gerard Schwarz leads with an unerring sense of when to be expansive, when to indulge in romantic gestures, and when to step on the gas pedal and let the music explode with passion. The Seattle Symphony sounds world-class, with great woodwind soloists (especially the oboist), punchy brass, and a satisfying blend of precision and expression. The recorded engineers have hampered solo violinist Maria Larionoff with too much reverb, but they have also captured the proceedings in a full orchestral sound which starts with crackling tuba and satisfyingly present double basses and builds upward in a richly layered sound-picture. At times the orchestra sounds uncannily like an organ.
This Scheherazade is very nearly beyond praise; aside from the reverb which surrounds the violinist (but nobody else, oddly, except briefly the solo clarinet in the second movement), everything goes right. The opening movement’s seascape builds with slow, steady fervor until the climaxes reach feverish degrees of intensity. The “Kalender Prince” contrasts the lush wind solos with fierce, violent outbursts: when the central section opens, watch out. The percussionists are precisely on-rhythm and boldly project their parts. The love-scene slow movement isn’t as lavish or sensual as it could be, but it flows naturally and benefits from those superb wind soloists. (It can’t be mentioned often enough that oboist Ben Hausmann makes his every solo unforgettably tender.) And the finale, enlivened with a rumbling bass drum, starts with an atmospheric festival and concludes with Maria Larionoff’s most heartfelt solo work of all.
Mostly, it’s thrilling just to hear a performance this good in sound this good. Probably there are a dozen orchestras which have played this well in this music in past decades (though, to my mind, approaches like Ansermet’s are too fast and Haitink’s too colorless), but Naxos’ crystal-clear sound quality takes things to a new level. How satisfying it is to hear the tubas lending oomph to the ope