Mussorgski's Pictures: Douglas and Horowitz

The following article is an excerpt from a college repertoire project on Mussorgski's Picture at an Exhibition. This section focuses on the recordings of Barry Douglas and Vladimir Horowitz.

It was, in fact, very much through the work of Ashkenazy and his recording in the late 1960s that has allowed us to recognise the original version of Pictures as the true form of the work. At this time, Rimsky-Korsakov's version of the score and Ravel's orchestration had “implanted themselves on the minds of listeners”¹, illustrated by the comments of an anonymous reviewer in 1968, in reference to Ashkenazy's recording: “'Bydlo' starts off much too loudly; it is marked 'p'!”²

In particular I have studied the recordings of Vladimir Horowitz and Barry Douglas for this project, and I would consider it a fair observation to refer to them as polar opposites. The Douglas recording is technically excellent, and maintains a strong interpretational individualism while remaining almost completely true to the score. Whilst the emotional journey described by Douglas is wholly convincing and quite satisfying, one only very rarely experiences the excitement inspired by a true sense of 'danger' in his playing. In other words, one receives the impression that he could happily record this piece in its entirety in one take without a considerable amount of physical or emotional effort. This is a very personal view point. For me, the excitement of experiencing Pictures, whether on the stage or watching it, is feeling and observing the sheer struggle involved in such a feat of performance, both physically and emotionally. The thrill of reaching the colossal climax after the arduous journey of emotional hardships depicted in Mussorgski's music is euphoric, and I find this to be lacking in Douglas' playing. His climax in the Great Gate of Kiev is big, but it is effortless emotionally, over involved in the intricacies of his musical considerations to the extent that a part of him seems removed from the music itself. Now, I do not wish to down play Douglas' achievement in this recording; his colours are beautiful and meaningful, with a deep sincerity which is inspiring to me as a musician.

There is really not much I feel I need to mention regarding the relationship between this performance and my chosen edition. Douglas has obviously studied the original version, and has done so with a personal and meaningful fervour. This is very much in contrast to Vladimir Horowitz, who produced his own arrangement of Pictures. Michael Russ speaks of Horowitz's performance that he “considerably adulterates Musorgsky's score in his performance; his intention seems to be to convert Ravel's orchestration into a piano work rather than to return to Musorgsky's original.”³ I wholeheartedly disagree with this statement. It is my view that Horowitz's modifications were actually intended to enhance the musical messages in this work, and believe this is illustrated by his overall approach to the arrangement of the material, as well as the underlying philosophies described by his playing. One will notice that Horowitz's modifications do not extend far beyond the movements that have particularly strenuous technical demands. The Promenade interludes are practically untouched, and the other movements are played with a personal vision communicated so vividly and with such a boundless array of colours that it is breathtaking. His Baba-Yaga is truly ferocious, and features quite a plethora of extra notes, most notably used to fill in octaves that were empty in the score. The effect makes the passage writing even more explosive, and while adding notes, at face value, is certainly not a subtle way to achieve such a thing, the only alternative would be to play the written notes louder, which would inevitably become quite unpleasant. In this way, I almost feel that Horowitz has seen the meaning behind the notes, experienced the concepts that were woven together in Mussorgski's mind before they were translated into metric symbols and applied to paper, and created an instance of this for his performance. For me, this represents the pinnacle of artistic realisation, and does not even approach anything quite as vulgar as arranging Ravel's orchestration for the piano. In short, whether his modifications inspire ire or respect, the performance of Pictures from Vladimir Horowitz is electrifying.

It is interesting that while Rimsky-Korsakov was admonishing of Mussorgski's daring hand, Horowitz took it upon himself to nurture it. It is obvious which of these two recordings is truer to the score, but I honestly ask myself which truly realises Mussorgski's vision. In my opinion, Horowitz.