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 serge! Rachmaninoff (1873-1943) was not a composer

to blaze new trails in terms of musical innovation.
Like Johannes Brahms, he chose to consolidate the
best of the past that he knew and grew up with—but in
a wholly personal way. To mistake the music of
Brahms or of Rachmaninoff for that of any other
composer would be difficult indeed.
Comparing Rachmaninofi’s First Symphony of
1895 with his Third of 1936 is rather like comparing
Brahm’s D Minor Piano Concerto of 1858 with the
Double Concerto for Violin ’cello and Orchestra of
1887. The youthful works are impassioned and with
enough ideas for several ordinary symphonies or con-
certos—and the orchestral texture is overladen; while
the later works demonstrate the utmost skill and
refined craftsmanship, but are a bit thin in ideas.
Nevertheless the basic musical language of both the
early and late works of these respective masters is
fidaretivelviitie dameait each instance:
4s a concert pianist of the very first rank, as a
conductor—in his native Russia at least—of outstand-
ing powers, Rachmaninoff as composer functioned
somewhat sporadically in terms of large scale works.
After the 1917 Revolution which drove him out of his
beloved Russia and to America, it seemed that the
creative impulse had been stilled altogether. However,
in 1926 a Fourth Piano Concerto came into being
(revised in 1941) which never did match the success
of the celebrated Second in C Minor or even its com-
panionpiece in D Minor. The year 1934, though,
witnessed the creation of the Rhapsody on a Theme
of Paganini for piano and orchestra, which stands

“together with The Isle of the Dead from 1909 as the
composer's masterpiece for full orchestra. Only two
amore works followed—the Third Symphony (1936)
and the Symphonic Dances (1940) recorded here.

In a very real sense, Rachmaninoff’ music can be
called a tonal counterpart to the paintings and prints
of the great Norwegian, Edvard Munch. Munch’s
work alwawewarries in its substratum an element of
morbid passion coupled with memento mort. We are
never allowed to forget the eternal dichotomy between
Man’s vitality and his frail mortality.

So too with Rachmaninoff in his most meaningful
compositions. We have propulsive rhythmic vigor,
passionate lyricism of quasi-Tchaikovskian but al-
ways Rachmaninoffian cast, and the memento mori
in the form of variants of the chant from the Requiem
Mass—Dies Irae (“Day of Wrath”). We hear it in
the First Symphony, in The Isle of the Dead, in the
Paganini Rhapsody, and finally in the last of the
Symphonic Dances.

The Symphonic Dances were written at Hunting-
ton, Long Island during the late summer and early
fall of 1940 and were dedicated to Eugene Ormandy
and the Philadelphia Orchestra. The premiere in
Philadelphia on January 3, 1941 got mixed reviews,
but later performances engendered re-evaluation in
some quarters.

There is reason to believe that Rachmaninoff had
in mind an actual balletic conception for his Sym-
phonic Dances; for he had been distinctly impressed
with Mikhail Fokine’s choreographic treatment of
the Paganini Rhapsody. He even played the music
for Fokine on the piano, but the project came to
nothing as a result of the choreographer’s death in
August of 1942. The music of the Symphonic Dances
is typical Rachmaninoff, but with one unusual feature
—the lyrical second theme of the first movement is
introduced by the saxophone, the first and only time
Rachmaninoff ever scored for the instrument; and it
was to his old friend, Robert Russell Bennett (who
had scored so many Broadway hit musicals) that he
turned for advice in the matter.

Noon, Twilight, Midnight were the titles Rach-
maninoff once had in mind for his three dances, but
he decided to stick to just Non allegro; Andante con
moto, tempo di valse; Lento assai— Allegro vivace.
Sternly rhythmic and nostalgically lyric elements
are placed in sharp contrast throughout the frat
movement. There follows a “valse triste” heralded by
a “trumpet fanfare with a dying fall”. The finale
brings all to culmination: despite hectic activity, all
is vanity—ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Dies Irae
reminds us so—all brilliant trappings to the contrary
nothwithstanding.

Ottorino Respighi shared with Rachmaninoff a
love of melody and a lack of sympathy with “modern:
ist” tendencies in 20th century music. He may have
lacked Rachmaninoff’s sheer melodic impulse, but he
was a superb orchestral colorist (befitting a Rimsky-
Korsakov pupil) and he had a wonderful way with
other people’s melodies, as witness his three lovely
suites of Old Airs and Dances and The Birds.

Of his purely original works, the so-called Roman
Cycle—Fountains of Rome (1916), Pines of Rome
(1924), and Roman Festivals (1928)—remains the
best known and most played of his output. The sheer
sensual poet is most evident in the earliest of these
pieces, while the “Pines” reveals something of
Respighi’s pre-occupation with Gregorian Chant,
Roman Festivals is the most “vulgar” of the three—
and indeed the sadism implied in the climax of the
opening Circus Maximus movement, depicting Chris-
tians being torn to pieces by lions in the Rome of the
Caesars, would seem more appropriate to the Rome
of the unlamented Mussolini. Jubilee evokes the
feelings of footsore pilgrims at long last reaching their
goal of the Eternal City. It is in The October Fetes
that Respighi the tone poet comes truly into his own,
conjuring up a marvelous vision of the Roman night
with mandolin serenades and distant hunting horns.
La Befana (‘Epiphany Eve in Piazza Navona”) can
only be appreciated by one who knows Rome and her
folkways; for here is the absolute apotheosis of the
modern Roman populace on a gigantic spree. One
can almost smell the scene, and Respighi’s musical
treatment is by no means lacking in humor. The
orchestra used in Feste Romane is huge, calling for
organ, piano, bells, mandolin, and a small army of
percussionists. Notes by DAVID HALL
i@i:~$

Some Facts

You Should Know

About This Recording...

While a stereophonic disc and a conventional monaural disc may look the

same, there is a great deal of difference between them. This is not merely

the fact that one produces stereophonic sound and the other does not. At this

stage of the stereophonic recording art, there are certain restrictions one does

not have to contend with in monaural recording. For one thing, there is the

question of how much music may be recorded on one side of a record. In

monaural practice it has heen possible to put on as much as 30 minutes

without serious distortion. On a stereo disc, the two included 45 degree angles

of the groove cut by the Westrex system are somewhat wider than the grooves

cuton a monaural disc. This in itself reduces the amount of time per record

side. But because of design features and other factors inherent in present day

stereo cutterheads, there are still further complications which all add up to

the fact that recording time is restricted on stereo discs. If an attempt is made

to cut a stereo disc heyond the practical limits, this usually results in a lower

overall recorded level of sound, greatly diminished bass and unrealistic com-

pression of the dynamic range. In bringing you this stereo recording of

Respighi’s “Feste Romane’, the engineers of EVEREST were aware of these

several facts... not only. is the “Feste Romane” one of the loudest works ever

written, but its dynamic range is tremendous. If conventional techniques had

been used, and the entire work recorded on one side, the shattering fortissimo

passages would have caused such violent lateral excursions of the cutter that

the adjacent grooves would have been destroyed. Even with variable cutting

this could not have been avoided and the only solution would have been to

bring down the level, compress the dynamics, etc. The engineers and those

responsible for musical direction with EVEREST RECORDS felt that to do

this would be to negate all the money and skill and labor of love that produced

the magnificent master tape. It was therefore decided, unorthodox though it

may be, to record the Feste Romane on two sides of a disc and to combine it

with Rachmaninoft’s Symphonic Dances another work of wide dynamics.

In this manner, unfettered by the technical restrictions, we believe we have

produced a stereo disc which for sheer quality of sound and the excitement

of truly uninhibited dynamics has no peer.