Witold Lutosławski (1913–1994)
Orchestral Works, Volume 7
Polish National Radio Symphony Orchestra / Antoni Wit
NAXOS 8.555270 [59:10]
Recorded: 6 September 1996 (Postlude No. 1), 16–17 May 2000 (Postludes Nos. 2 & 3, plus shorter items), 23 July 2000 (Preludes and Fugues) Fitelberg Concert Hall, Katowice ** The Naxos series of Lutosławski’s complete orchestral output — now well; into Volume 7 — remains a quietly monumental achievement, and this latest installment confirms, if any reassurance was needed, the composer’s stature as a titan of 20th-century orchestral craft.
Antoni Wit and his Polish National Radio Symphony Band continue to navigate these complex waters with admirable clarity and respect, even if the disc’s sonic atmosphere never quite escapes the occasional hall echo that places you firmly inside a reverberant Polish auditorium rather than a dry, clinical studio. The disc opens with the Three Postludes, a set of pieces so tightly wrought they almost feel like miniature symphonies in themselves. The orchestral palette here is fascinating — Lutosławski’s characteristic layering of textures is on full display, with meticulous attention paid to the interplay of woodwind filigree against the brass’s muted bursts.
The first postlude, in particular — lingers with its brittle metallic percussion and a string line that meanders between brittle pointillism and broad lyricism. There’s a palpable tension between control and freedom, a hallmark of his mature style: rhythmically, the players negotiate shifting meters with a near-balletic precision, yet the music always breathes, never feels mechanistic. The gap of four years between disc sessions for these postludes doesn’t betray any loss of ensemble or stylistic coherence.
It feels, rather, as if Wit and his players return to a familiar landscape and rediscover hidden paths. What makes the Preludes and Fugues for 13 Solo Strings such a compelling inclusion is the way Lutosławski’s aleatoric techniques come into sharp focus. This work is less a fugue in the traditional contrapuntal sense and more a mosaic of interlocking timbres and rhythmic groupings, where chance is harnessed but never allowed to dominate.
The 13 solo players act almost as individual voices in a chamber dialogue, yet the texture occasionally swells into a mass of shimmering, almost hypnotic waves of sound. Wit’s leadership here is subtle but crucial; he shapes the ebb and — well — flow so the inevitable unpredictability feels organic, not arbitrary. The ensemble’s intonation and blend, so vital in such exposed scoring, are impressively consistent, particularly given the technical demands placed on each player.
The result is a interpretation that feels fresh with every listen — no two hearings quite the same, just as Lutosławski intended. Among the shorter offerings, the Fanfare for CUBE stands out — a mere 28 seconds — of brass brilliance, but no less a concentrated statement of Lutosławski’s gift for economy and wit. It’s a tiny gem, wry and confident, and though brief, it’s a reminder that even — his smallest pieces are suffused with the same rigorous compositional integrity as his sprawling symphonic works.
The recording captures the ensemble’s crisp articulation here, the brasses’ bright, biting attack absolutely vivid against the hall’s acoustics. A few moments do reveal minor flaws — occasionally the balance shifts slightly, with strings sounding a touch thin or woodwinds buried in the mix — but these are not distractions so much as reminders that we are listening to live performances with human immediacy, not digitally engineered perfection. And there’s something to be said for that: Lutosławski’s music demands commitment and risk from its performers, and this recording doesn’t shy away from that challenge.
In sum, this volume stands as a testament not only to Lutosławski’s compositional evolution — from early folk-inspired idioms to; a singular modernist voice embracing controlled chance and intricate textural interplay — but also to the enduring vitality of his music. Antoni Wit and the Polish National Radio Symphony Orchestra serve him well, delivering these demanding works with a blend of intellectual rigor and expressive warmth. For anyone seeking a deeper understanding of Lutosławski’s orchestral oeuvre, this disc is indispensable.
The Three Postludes alone justify the purchase, but the Preludes and Fugues and those sparkling miniatures complete the picture. Lutosławski’s orchestral genius remains as compelling and enigmatic as ever — and here it’s captured with an honesty and insight that is, frankly, rare.
