Sunday, 6.8.08, 6:00 am
Why Haydn Should be Mandatory
Haydn must not be given up to period specialists. Symphony orchestras more and more tend toward a niche program of exclusively romantic and post-romantic repertoire: from Beethoven to Sibelius and everything in between, with extra stops at Mahler and Shostakovich and occasional excursions to Philip Glass or John Adams.
But baroque music and increasingly classical period music as well are left to the devices of specialized performance groups – usually those that offer some form of Historically Informed Performance Practice (HIP).
The proliferation of original instrument – and modern instrument HIP – groups is a boon to music, generally. Ever since their performance quality has improved from questionable to outstanding, they offer musical joys that delight over and over again, quite regardless of performance ideology.
But if their prominence in Monteverdi, Marais, and even Mozart comes at the expense of important composers and periods being part of the repertoire of ‘regular’ symphony orchestras, then alarm bells should ring for two reasons.
The first is that the audience would lose much fine music played by what remains the primary musical body of a city. Mozart and Haydn and Bach sound different when a large symphonic orchestra (even with reduced forces) is at work. But that isn’t bad at all, it’s desirable diversity. HIP is to add to our enjoyment by offering comparison and choice – not by replacing the way we’ve heard this music for so long. As much as can be learned from small groups led by gut-strung violins, be it the Freiburg Baroque Orchstra, Academy of Ancient Music Berlin, or the Musica Antiqua Cologne, we can also learn and take away something from an orchestra that plays Ein Heldenleben in one half of a concert and then Mozart’s Jeunehomme Concerto or a Bach Orchestral Suite or a Haydn Symphony in the other.
To illustrate the high quality of music-making that can result from this (one we might run the danger of losing), nothing serves better than Josef Krips’ recordings of the Mozart Symphonies with the Concertgebouw Orchestra from 1972 and 73. This is Classical Music at its very finest. You won’t find Mozart anywhere else that is played with such lightness, radiating joy, and so being the epitome of musical tip-toeing. Yes, it sounds very different – luxuriously so – than Mozart coming from smaller, HIP groups, but not heavier per se, nor swooningly romantic.
Krips covers symphonies 21 to 41 and they are finally available separately again after having long shared box-set space with the unnecessary Neville Marriner-conducted early symphonies. Even with the excellent, moderately HIP Charles Mackerras / Prague set (Teldec) available, Krips should still be the first choice of any collection’s allotment for Mozart symphonies.
So much for the first reason, the possibility of delight that we deny ourselves when classical period music is ceded largely to small and specialist groups. The second and more important reason – and it cannot be made often enough – is that if a large, ‘generalist’ orchestra doesn’t play enough classical music on a regular basis and play it well, eventually it won’t be able to play romantic (much less baroque) music well anymore, either. The orchestra’s sound coagulates. Thickness enters in place of luxurious sonority; agility gives way to rigidity. A conductor will still be able to make the orchestra sound passable, but the orchestra won’t likely be able to adapt to a conductor’s particular conception of a work.
The Munich Philharmonic, known for its romantic, “old-Europe” sound that makes it stand out even among European orchestras that are more often said to be in the orchestral elite, is a good example of an orchestra that is – rightly – aware of the danger but also willing to something about it. Most recently Haydn’s Symphony No.80, nickname-less yet no less lovely than its more famous brethren, showed up on the program when Hartmut Haenchen took on the orchestra. Generous and lively, with expressive silences and delicacy amid the inevitable heft, this was nicely done, even if the third movement was perhaps a little heavy footed. It may well have been the ‘warm-up’ for the orchestra, but at least it didn’t sound like one.
Elsewhere in their 2007/2008 Season there was some Haydn under Markus Stenz, a Mozart Symphony under Thomas Hengelbrock, and a planned Mozart Piano Concerto to end the season with. Even under Hengelbrock, where the results were very fine, it was audible that this simply isn’t the MPhil’s natural strength. But knowing that without it their Bruckner (recently a brilliant Fourth with Thielemann) wouldn’t be their strength for much longer, either, it’s very much music to my ears.
The second part of that Haenchen concert, by the way, was given to Bartók’s Bluebeard – more of which later in the week, when I use it as an excuse to write about Marin Alsop’s recently issued recording of that opera.
Tuesday, 6.3.08, 6:00 am
What Not To Miss:
Washington’s Music Season 2008/09
(September - January)
Some time after the dearth and heat of Summer will have passed us, and life begins to blossom tenderly again in Washington, the 2008/2009 culture season begins – offering a tonic of delights and diversion. Here are then some of the most promising events of the first half of the season, between October and January. Since not everybody can or wants to go to a live performance every week, I have tried to be as selective as possible; concerts not mentioned here are not given short shrift, they will receive attention in monthly looks at WETA’s classical calendar.
Culturally things aren’t quite under way in September yet – except Marin Alsop conducting the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra in Mahler’s and Bernstein’s First Symphonies. Cross-connections abound: Bernstein and Mahler the conductor-composers, the latter one of the great interpreters of the former, now interpreted by one of Bernstein’s favorite students. Easily worth the trip to Strathmore on September 25th.
October is when things start moving in DC again, and the smart people return, having fled the unbearable climate. The NSO opens with a string of very promising concerts under then Principal Conductor (expanding from his position as Principal Guest Conductor until a successor to Leonard Slatkin is found) Iván Fischer. The most exciting of them is that of Mahler’s longest and most complex Symphony – the slightly strange yet awe-some Third. With his recordings and performances of Mahler having won great accolades so far, this series of concerts in the Kennedy Center’s Concert Hall between the 16h and 19th should not only attract every last Mahler-head in the region but everyone who goes in for orchestral (and choral) grandeur and splendor.
Marin Alsop and Leonard Bernstein once more: On October 26th she will bring her BSO down to Washington to present Lenny’s Mass (“A Theater Piece for Singers, Players, and Dancers”) at the Kennedy Center for the opening of which it was commissioned and where it was premiered in 1971. Great music? Maybe not – but certainly an enthralling amalgamate of styles and a musical event worth experiencing.
WPAS will already have presented András Schiff in Beethoven earlier in October, and while no piano-friend will miss that, it is Maurizio Pollini who should attract everyone’s attention. Even those who may not find all recordings equally great or think of him as an unemotional player really ought not to miss this. I’ve never heard Pollini live without it being a highlight of the season, and I have no reason to think it would be different now. The program hasn’t been announced yet – but who cares… it’s Pollini. He will play at the Strathmore Music Center on October 29th.
In November, one concert – a recital – looms above all others: Vadim Repin and Nikolai Lugansky will perform a program of Beethoven, Stravinsky, and Debussy at the Kennedy Center’s Concert Hall and if you go only to one more concert this year, you might as well make it that. Repin isn’t the most famous violinist because he isn’t the fanciest. He’s not a showman, nor into gimmicks or PR stunts. Worst of all, he’s fairly unassuming. And yet, if one had to give the hyperbolic title of “World’s Best Violinist” to any fiddler, he would be the least controversial choice. It is, I believe, the first time that he will play in Washington (he had played a concert and recital in Baltimore in 2005 and 2006), courtesy of WPAS. Tone, color, taste, and musical sensibility make hearing this violinist one of the most rewarding experiences Don’t miss him on November 15th.
Also not really to be missed is another WPAS concert, also at the Kennedy Center Concert Hall, just three days later: Gustavo Dudamel conducts the Israel Philharmonic in Mendelssohn’s and Brahms’ Fourth Symphony. Perhaps this will be the opportunity for Brahms-doubters to be swept away – because that’s what Dudamel does best. Even with orchestras that are not necessarily the crème de la crème, he can conjure excitement, momentum, and white heat that makes his concerts so memorable. Since it’s difficult – maybe impossible – to catch that presence on record, the live experience would be just the thing to check out what the talk about the LA Philharmonic’s next music director is all about.
Chamber music couldn’t be in eight better hands than the Takács Quartet, and the Corcoran Gallery in any case the best place to hear them. You can do so on November 9th.
That the concerts at the National Gallery are free of charge doesn’t keep them from being among the most valuable musical events of the season. It’s one of the reasons why Washington, a modestly cultured city when it comes to music, is a Mecca of great chamber music. Consider at least Till Fellner’s appearance on Sunday December 7th where he will continue to work on a Beethoven Sonata cycle-in-progress. Fellner is considered among the very finest Austrian pianists of his generation – not the least since his Bach recording of the Well Tempered Klavier (Book 1) for ECM became a runaway success. His Beethoven Cello Sonatas with Heinrich Schiff (Philips 1998, now part of Brilliant’s Beethoven Box) went unnoticed then, but provides more than a glimpse of his Beethoven-excellence.
In an otherwise thin month (unless you count Messiah performances as musical must-goes), the WPAS recital of Daniel Müller-Schott and Angela Hewitt stands out. Their target are those just mentioned Beethoven Cello Sonatas (nos.4 & 5) interspersed with Gamba Sonatas of Bach (nos.2 & 3). The latter corresponds with an Orfeo recording of the two artists that came out a year ago. The recital takes place at Sidney Harman Hall on December 15th.
For lovers of the voice one of the most attractive concerts in the first half of the 08/09 Season might well be Alessandra Marc’s at the National Gallery on December 21st where she will undoubtedly attempt to bring down the West Garden Court again – possibly literally and hopefully metaphorically.
If we consider January also to be part of the first half of the season, the events not to be missed are probably Ilan Volkov’s three all-20th-century concerts with the NSO from the 15th to the 17th. Leiv-Ove Andsness will play Rachmaninov’s barn-storming Third Piano Concerto surrounded by Stravinksy’s Jeu de cartes and – most tantalizing – George Crumb’s 1984 A Haunted Landscape. One of the great living American composers, Crumb’s musical idiom cannot be considered easy listening, but neither is he an unapologetic apostle of noise. Just a little bit of active interest in contemporary music should make his music a welcome challenge to the ears. Highly recommended to all those with a curiosity about 20th century music beyond Rachmaninov.
Even with Schiff and Pollini offering their art, I am even more intrigued by the WPAS organized recital of Yevgeni Sudbin on the 24th. Not just because of a wonderfully diverse and interesting program of Scarlatti, Haydn, Medtner, Chopin, and Ravel – but also because the opportunity of hearing him at the Kennedy Center’s Terrace Theater. Catch him there while he still ‘fits’ into such relatively small and intimate (and acoustically fabulous) venues!
Wednesday, 5.28.08, 6:00 am
New Releases: CDs
Schumann and Gerhaher at Home in the Lied
"New Releases" posts are regular columns that feature reviews of new CDs that are, for one reason or another, truly outstanding among the many I come across every month.
Before I will turn to orchestral Schumann again (the Fourth Symphony in particular), a new Schumann release merits attention that deals with the genre in which no one would ever attest Schumann anything less than complete mastery: that of the Art Song. After composing exclusively for the piano, Schumann hit upon the Lied in 1840 and produced nearly 170 songs in just that year, exceeding in quantity all that had come before. Only after that song-phase did he tackle other genres. In 1841 he started Das Paradies und die Peri, wrote his first Symphony, and began with the Piano Concerto. in 1842 he wrote the three String Quartets and the Piano Quintet.
If I were to agree with the sentiment that above all those other genres (except the works for solo piano) stand Schumann’s songs, then only because they are so extraordinary - not because his other work is inherently lacking. That the songs are truly great is exemplified by the latest Schumann release on RCA.
“Especially late Schumann! The darker, the better.” That’s – roughly – baritone Christian Gerhaher’s musical preference. “Gruftmusik (Crypt-music) is what it’s really at, ain’t it” was Heinz Holliger’s comment in coy approval to his friend’s, Gerhaher’s, predilection for the torn, near-demented, struggling, and often morbid songs that came from periods in Schumann’s life that must have known harrowing darkness.
In an interview from last year he admits that this is not (at) all audience-friendly material and he won’t likely be able to throw together a program only of favorite songs if tickets are to be sold. But RCA, his record company, has indulged him – and very tellingly produced a marvelous and marvelously dark recording that opens with Melancholie op.74/6 and closes with Der Einsiedler (“The Recluse”) from Drei Gesänge, op.83 and Tief im Herzen trag’ ich Pein (“Deep within, my heart contains anguish”), from Spanische Liebeslieder op.132.
Between these two capstones is a very generous recital (73 minutes, total) of the Eichendorff Liederkreis op.39, the five op.40 songs on H.C.Anderson and Chamisso poems, Sechs Gedichte aus dem Liederbuch eines Malers op.36, and three rarely found selections from the “Songs from Wilhelm Meister” op.98a. The only section I half expected to find and didn’t, is op.64, no.3 – Tragödie.
Other than that, Gerhaher didn’t skip very many gloomy minutes of Schumann – and if you didn’t think of some of the included songs as particularly grim – An den Sonnenschein (“To Sunshine” or Nicht’s Schöneres (“Nothing More Lovely”) – you will, after hearing Gerhaher’s interpretation.
He does grim better than anyone, he is the master of bleak, a prince of austerity. All along he also has a voice that, the more I hear of it, the more it seems absolutely made for Lieder. It is never casual (a quality I also like) but it is very natural, strong enough when necessary yet gentle, relaxed, not dense. It’s just a little ‘learned’, but not the kind of professorial singing that seems to communicate: “This is how Schumann ought to be sung.” Intellectually stilted pathos isn’t his métier, and if his singing sounds rather serious, it’s essence is a pleasant humility.
It’s titillating how successful this combination of “high art” and naturalness is. Tastes change – but for the time being I find his singing (rather than just “his voice”) more attractive than that of Goerne, Quasthoff, Höll, Terfel, and – yes – Fischer-Dieskau. The only singer I might currently prefer in this territory is a tenor – Werner Güra (who may not have had much opportunity to shine in a Matthew Passion I’ve heard him in this Easter, but who has recorded a nice little Mozart CD recently. You can hear them together in Harnoncourt’s 2007 Christmas Oratorio – studded with the best available singers and one of the better recently released recordings of that work).
The choice of songs and their order is fine and – forget the ‘gloomy-talk’ for a second – make for happy listening in one sitting. And hitting the repeat button a few times, too. Lesser known pieces are dotted between ‘standards’. (If Dichter’s Genesung (op.36/5) seems familiar, it’s probably because it is very similar to Die beiden Granadiere and Belsatzar.) As on his previous CDs or in recital, Gerhaher forms one logical and expressive unit with Gerold Huber whom Gerhaher accompanies. He ‘disappears’ in the music – not because he is timid but because he inseparably a part of it, a Lieder-pianist: decidedly not a mere accompanist and neither intruding on the songs with self-conscious flashes of virtuosity.
Saturday, 5.24.08, 6:00 am
Aimez-vous Brahms? (Double Concerto, op.102)
"Library Building" posts are reviews of recordings I find to be essential to every good collection of classical music - recordings of interpretations that are the touchstone for their repertoire.
When Renaud (violin) and Gautier (cello) Capuçon presented Brahm’s Double Concerto in Washington in February of 2007, they played it so well – a burnished sound, swift execution, musically sensitive, and with such a complete understanding of each other – that at least for the duration of the performance I thought that the “Double must be Brahms’ best concerto. As if I needed to be disabused of that notion, I recently heard a performance with Daniel Hope and Antonio Menses that was in equal measure appalling as the Capuçon’s was delightful.
Brahms’ last concerto – op.102, in a-minor, written in 1887 – may not exceed his other four concertos in popularity, but when it is played by artists who pull off intimate chamber-music cooperation as well as grand romantic gesture, it attains a measure of greatness that would have me at least rank it above both Piano Concertos – not the least because it sounds so much more coherent than they, especially that (genial) quilt that is the d-minor Concerto.
The Double Concerto started out as a cello concerto for Robert Hausmann, cellist in the Joachim Quartet. At the time of writing it, there had been a painful silence between Brahms and his good friend Joseph Joachim (the violinist for whom and with whom the Violin Concerto was written and a tireless champion of Brahms) because Brahms sided with Joachim’s wife during the couple’s 1880 divorce. Uncomfortable with this unwanted cooling of their relationship, Brahms thought it might be considered a further slight if he wrote a concerto for Hausmann – also a friend of Joachim’s – while ignoring Joachim, who had always wanted another violin concerto from him
Solving the dilemma, Brahms added the violin to Hausmann’s cello concerto and turned it into the unique form of concerto for Violin, Cello, and orchestra*. A construct with few precedents – namely Beethoven’s Triple Concerto, Mozart’s Sinfonia Concertante (essentially a double concerto for violin and viola), the Bach Double Concertos (variously for violin and harpsichord) and possibly Haydn’s Sinfonia Concertante (for violin, cello, oboe, and bassoon). In writing to Hausmann of the violin ‘intrusion’ on his concerto, Brahms expressed his hope that Hausmann wouldn’t “ungraciously [take] offence at the fact that [he, Brahms, had] added a violin part to a violoncello concerto.” Hausmann didn’t mind, and the Cello remains primus inter pares in this concerto in any case – notable right from the opening cello cadenza. But as often as not, the two instruments are used as if an extension of each other, which lead Max Kalbeck, Brahms friend and biographer, to speak of an “8-stringed mammoth-violin” when referring to the Double Concerto’s solo parts. The concerto took Brahms plenty effort and wasn’t very well received at its premiere. A fact that pained Brahms. But it was worth it alone for bringing him and Joachim back together.
Not unlike the Violin Concerto, the Double Concerto is very ‘symphonic’ – dominated by the orchestra with interludes for soloists. The excessive amount of double stops for both solo instruments contributes, at anything less than the most lucid level of performance, to a grating impression, rather than a lyrical one.
Since there are around six dozen performances available on CD, with almost any combination of great cellists and violinists, the Double Concerto can be enjoyed at its best in a variety of ways. Classic recordings are Heifetz / Piatigorsky – Wallenstein, RCA (Heifetz sadly rushing Piatigorksy around, essentially hijacking the concerto), Milstein / Piatigorsky – Reiner, RCA (now the gruff nobility of Piatigorsky’s really comes through), Oistrakh / Fournier – Galliera, EMI (probably overrated, but Fournier’s most melodic take of the concerto), and Oistrakh / Rostropovich – Szell, EMI (the better half of the famous-if-flawed Beethoven Triple Concerto recording).
But most intriguing are perhaps two recent issues: Julia Fischer in her second-to-last recording for Pentatone (she’s since become a Decca artist) together with Daniel Müller-Schott (who appears to be the go-to cellist for any variety of great musicians: Fischer previously, Mutter, Hewitt, and Steinbacher) – and Le Frères Capuçon with the Gustav Mahler Youth Orchestra (GMJO) under Myung-Whun Chung on Virgin Classics.
The Fischer and Müller-Schott Double Concerto with the Netherlands Philharmonic Orchestra Amsterdam under Yakov Kreizberg might be overshadowed by the excellent Brahms (which I had promised to write about in October and will finally get to in the next few weeks) that comes first on this CD, but it shouldn’t be. Fleet and clean, with perfection delivered from both soloists (so very important in all the exposed and double-stop enriched passages) and genial, supportive playing from the orchestra. Fischer and Müller-Schott truly work together as equals. A particular joy is the similarity in their approach: a virile flexibility that’s never thick and always impeccable, the light buoyancy in the third movement. None of the performers linger at any point – not even those where one might reasonably milk a little from the romanticism. Especially for those who find the concerto to have inapproachable or joyless moments (Richard Specht, after its Cologne premiere), that’s only a plus. This is easily one of the finest recordings of the work to date.
Unfortunately the recording of the Capuçon brothers, much as I was looking forward to it, doesn’t quite live up to the same standard – perhaps because Virgin relied on live performances. Critical response to this has varied wildly. On the positive side an Editor’s Choice Award in the February issue of Grammophone (Fischer’s was the Recording of the Month in August 07) and MusicWeb International’s Tim Perry raving about outer movements that “surge with wild abandon” and a central movement that “heaves and sighs with passionate longing. Every phrase is surprising here, emerging with the freshness of new adventure.”
On the negative side Jerry Dubins in Fanfare calls Gautier’s opening lines “the most protracted and misshapen interpretations” he’s ever heard, “his intonation unbelievably off center [–] just listen how sharp he goes on the second and third notes.” Perry’s ‘Surge and wild abandon’, to Dubbin’s ears, are instead indicative of “both players scrambling for notes and messing up badly.” Nor is Dubbins much enamored by the “soft-centered and flabby” orchestral contribution.
If only it were either: quite so bad, or truly marvelous.
Perhaps I’ve been hardened against players ‘messing up badly’ in the double stops (courtesy Meneses/Hope), but Gautier isn’t “unbelievably off”, he’s slightly off. Unfortunately he’s also slightly off – together with his brother – in the third movement. That’s easier to ignore live, where the moment passes once and forever, but on recording it reoccurs on every listen. At some point the anticipation of it becomes worse than the actual flaw.
The grittier style of the Capuçon’s emphasizes the broad, romantic body of the concerto, but not the contrasts between orchestra and chamberesque soloists. The two play well together, but the harmony I remember from their appearance with the NSO is not as notable. The wonderful GMJO is surprisingly bland under Chung, but they audibly try to get something going. If this performance (coupled with a marvelous Clarinet Quintet, by the way) is a disappointment, then only as set against the high expectations – not as set against most of the competition. I only wish that Virgin had splurged on a studio recording with them, or at least live recordings not played ‘on the road’ (Salzburg, Graz, Vienna). It could have been so marvelous.
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Proving that it is difficult to get this work done without flaws when played live are Gidon Kremer and Mischa Maisky who performed this in September 1982 as part of Leonard Bernstein’s Brahms cycle recorded for Deutsche Grammophon and filmed for Unitel. The recordings were re-released in the “Bernstein Collector’s Edition” in 2004 and are now available on DVD through DG/Unitel.
The entire series is interesting not the least because of Bernstein’s variously extensive talks about the pieces he performs,. These talks are are in equal measure charming, insightful, and touchingly outdated. Watching Bernstein conduct his thoughts with a cigarette is, in any case, a encouraging antidote to the antiseptic political correctness that fears all exposure to ‘vice’ must be carefully excised from our lives and our little ones. The performances are bold Brahms with the Vienna Philharmonic, emphasizing the disparate elements of the melodic and the torn. (Bernstein takes care to emphasize the “duality” in Brahms – that of bourgeois, even hedged romanticism and vigorous anger.
Maisky and Kremer (who is more compelling in his remake with Clemens Hagen and Harnoncourt) fit themselves nicely into Bernstein’s broad Brahms, his generous Andante and the expansive Vivace non troppo. Especially that latter is a curious joy for taking the cautionary “non troppo” serious as regards timing (9:21 in telling contrast to Kreizberg’s 8:16) and yet offering unbridled liveliness. There are a few sour violin moments in the Finale, largely on Kremer’s part: present enough to bother if being bothered is what one wants, subtle enough to overlook, otherwise.
I never much cared for orchestra-only DVDs, in part because I get restless and impatient watching them. The visual of the concert experience without actually experiencing it is as useful to me as watching a documentary about the smell of flowers. Does anyone else feel similarly? For those – and given that the sound comes from the stereo and not (presumably) tinny TV speakers – the trick might be to treat the picture as a nice ‘feature on the side’, ignorable and enriching the aural image with the visual element whenever glanced at.
To whom the image isn’t important, nor the introductory talks essential, Bernstein the passionate Brahmsian is more economically discovered through the $40 5-CD set. $120 more will get you the DVD box (also available in four separate units) which adds the picture, introductions, both piano concertos with Krystian Zimerman, and the Second Serenade.
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* Brahms has found many imitators in the hundred-some years since. Notable double concertos for Violin and Cello include those of Kurt Atterberg, Richard Danielpour, Fritz Delius, Tigran Mansurian, Ned Rorem, Alfred Schnittke, and Ellen Taaffe Zwilich.
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About Brahms so far:
Aimez-vous Brahms? - Symphony No.1
Monday, 5.19.08, 5:55 pm
Schumann, Incompetent Genius?
The old canard is that Schumann knew a thing or two about melodies, songs, and the piano, but when it came to orchestrating his ambitious symphonies, he was out of his depth. Admittedly he wasn’t a master orchestrator, simply for lack of experience and training. But as early as the 1950’s, as part of the Music Appreciation Series analyses, Leonard Bernstein felt compelled to defend Schumann against the happily parroted accusation of his alleged clunky and thick scoring. (It’s easier to answer the ‘clunky’ charge than that against the texture, which can be dense.) Schumann, played just right, can develop an inner glow - radiating from the strings and brass outward - that is unique and wonderful, whether he had intended it so or not.
The most obvious sign that Schumann must have known what he was doing is that his four symphonies became, with those of Brahms, the quintessential exponents of the Germanic, romantic symphony. Both composers take Beethoven as a starting point and go ‘inland’ with it. If there is a “German” symphonic style and sound, it’s those two that exemplify it – much more so than Schubert or Mendelssohn or the sui generis Bruckner. They have been staples in concert halls almost since Mendelssohn premiered the First Symphony with the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchester to great success on March 31st 1841. On record they have been oft and well served, with notable signposts in Szell’s Cleveland 1958/60 cycle on RCA/Heritage Masterworks and the 1972 EMI recordings of Wolfgang Sawallisch with the Dresden Staatskapelle that have since towered over the Schumann symphony discography.
In 2006/2007 Riccardo Chailly recorded all four symphonies with the band that premiered all but the Third “Rhenish” Symphony, the Leipzig Gewandhausorchester, for Decca. He seems to have achieved yet another triumph. Just like his recording of the Brahms Piano Concertos with Nelson Freire broke through the Szell/Fleisher and Jochum/Gilels perceived duopoly, his Schumann, too, is now seated - along Barenboim’s fabulous Berlin set - with Sawallisch at his right hand, and Szell on the left. The kicker to his recording: He conducts the Mahler edition of Schumann’s symphonies.
This is notable for several reasons. For one, Mahler’s revisions (re-orchestrations, editions, retouchings – whatever you wish to call them) of other composer’s symphonies (Beethoven, Schubert, Schumann) are rarely recorded or played – and when they are, usually it’s a bit of a gimmick. When Mahler’s editions are played, then usually by less known artists and orchestras that wish to direct attention their way by doing something (gratuitously?) different. For a conductor of the stature of Chailly with the Gewandhausorchester, easily one of the world’s best, not only to play Schumann-cum-Mahler, but to be universally hailed for it by the press, is rare and might be surprising. Except – and this brings us back to Schumann’s reputation as an orchestrator – that we are dealing with Schumann here. Because if you do it to Schumann, it’s “OK”. Beethoven, not – that would be sacrilege.
I don’t actually wish to indicate that it should ‘also not be “OK”’ to play revised versions of Schumann symphonies, just like it isn’t typically well received when Beethoven is ‘messed with’. Rather, the praise for Chailly’s Schumann (and it really is Schumann, not some odd Rhenish-Resurrection hybrid) shows how these revisions aren’t that big a deal and that the score need not be considered quite as sacrosanct as critics – then and now – are wont to demand.
The Mahler edition – not only of Schumann but Beethoven as well – also unveils a hint of hypocrisy in those who blare loudest about ‘devotion to the text’. While the “Mahler Edition” Schumann Symphonies have a printed and countable 2016 revisions from the Urtext that Mahler knew, most of them concern dynamics. It still sounds like a lot, but the truth is: No score comes with the composer’s imprimatur printed on the title page, and no conductor works without a pencil in rehearsal. When Mahler revised the symphonies of others he did so as a conductor who happened to know how to compose and how to execute a musical idea so that it came across in reality that got to work. And every conductor makes a myriad of dynamic markings to the text in front of them, doubles winds if necessary, or even supplies notes that the music indicates but that instruments of the time couldn’t play. Except that these are not called the “Kleiber Edition” or the “Furtwängler Edition” of Beethoven’s Fifth or Schumann’s Third, they remain Beethoven’s Fifth and Schumann’s Third and the only focus of the comments and criticism will be on the interpretation, not textual felicity.
To be sure, the differences between Schumann’s (or Beethoven’s) symphonies in Mahler’s edition are greater than would be with most any other conductor’s performing version. But it is far smaller a difference than between the hoopla that is being made off them and how naturally we accept that in the very act of interpreting (pace those conductors who claim to be mere executants and conduits) a piece of music will undergo innumerable, largely minute, changes.
The reason why I don’t find the Beethoven-Mahler editions particularly interesting, much less necessary, is that Beethoven can be – and is – played extraordinarily well without them. Where big romantic orchestras demand the doubling of winds, for example, conductors don’t need Mahler to double them. And where they are played by orchestras roughly the size of what Beethoven might have had available, it isn’t necessary to revise them. And a few adjusted – not then possible but desired – notes in the brass, flutes, or timpani don’t make a big difference one way or the other. Mahler’s intention wasn’t, in any case, to ‘help’ Beethoven, but to adjust for balances that had become skewed over the years. A legitimate worry, but not one that is very acute today.
With Schumann’s Symphonies, the matter is a little different. Mahler didn’t adjust the score to resemble new, different realities of the orchestras that would play his music, he genuinely tried to help and edit Schumann. Not because Schumann was inept, but because he had never had the benefit of a good editor or the extensive performance and composing experience to hone in on the details. And while his work can sound great just as it is (assuming a conductor who knows how to avoid certain pitfalls and retain enough clarity), the Mahler version sounds great too – and arguably better.
Very broadly stated, the difference is one of texture and dynamics. Schumann-Mahler sounds slightly lighter, less brass-heavy, with a greater variety of color, and greater delineation of the individual voices. Individual elements emerge more easily from the symphonic mass, the parts that make up the whole become more prominent. Exaggerated: It’s a move from hearty stew to nouvelle cuisine. On the dynamic end the works become more overtly romantic – there is now a pulling and pushing that can be restless, and generally produces a greater thrust. Nuances and contrasts are worked out in greater relief. In a way, the Mahler edition has a built-in Furtwänglerization.
The most notable change might be the first notes of the First Symphony. Why is the horn and trumpet fanfare a third lower than Schumann wrote it? Not a gratuitous Mahlerism, as it turns out, but concern about original intent. Schumann wrote it that way. Then he found out that the then still valveless horns couldn’t play it without hand-stopping the G and A. Schumann didn’t want a muted sound for the opening fanfare, so he followed the suggestion of the symphony’s first conductor, Mendelssohn, in transposing the two-partite phrase up a third.
Mahler reverts to Schumann’s known original intent. And lo and behold: the transition to the transition to the string’s swooping entry sounds more natural. This is not only the first difference from the original in this edition, and one of the more notable ones, it’s also indicative of the intent, scrutiny, and care that Mahler – who was proud of this achievement and wanted it published after his death – took with Schumann’s work. Rather than imposing himself on the helpless composer, he tries to make the many extant qualities of the symphonies (even in the scoring) stand out more. Also notable: Exposition repeats are now officially cut – but again, that’s a decision most conductors didn’t need Mahler to tell them to do.
Chailly could have recorded excellent Schumann in any edition – especially with as wonderful sounding an orchestra as the Gewandhaus, one of the few orchestras that still preserves a distinctive romantic, European sound. That he uses the Mahler edition is not a gimmick of his; it goes rather to his credit to offer us something slightly different and not to have done it merely to be different. His recording is the best proof that the justification for Mahler’s revisions lie in how good the results sound. To find out the exact differences, all but the most seasoned Schumann enthusiasts would need a score. But the lively, nuance-rich, unapologetically romantic nature of these symphonies comes through to everyone who will listen.
Chailly was not the first conductor to record the Schumann symphonies in this edition. Aldo Ceccato and the Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra have done that in the early nineties for the BIS label. Volume one and two are both very fine, and I have long enjoyed them as alternatives to my other Schumann. But the Bergen PO isn’t the Leipzig Orchestra, and Chailly coaxes so much out of his players and the compositions that his is not just an alternative recording to “real” Schumann recordings, it sets new standards for all of them. Incidentally Ceccato plays the symphonies as if infused with a Mahlerian spirit that’s not actually in the notes. He is much slower and broader than the dynamic, lively, ever vital and explosive Chailly. And, pace Ceccato, for slow Schumann I have a new favorite.
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I’ve had the pleasure to hear much Schumann lately – on record and in concert. The Mahler editions (recorded by Chailly), the original version of the Fourth Symphony (championed by Brahms, recorded by Thomas Zehetmair and the Northern Sinfonia, performed by Kent Nagano and the Bavarian State Orchestra), the unadulterated version of the Fourth (Christian Thielemann / Munich Philharmonic), the Piano Concert (Nagano, Lars Vogt), the Manfred Overture, Herrmann & Dorothea Overture, and the Requiem (all Thielemann), and the Second Symphony (in concert with Thomas Hengelbrock / MPhil and on CD, together with the First, under Lawrence Foster / Pentatone).
Interspersed with articles and reviews of music of Brahms, I will write about some of these Schumann recordings and performances leading up to Robert’s 198th birthday on June 8th.
For Schumann in the DC region you may look to the National Orchestral Institute under Andrew Litton (!) which will offer the First Symphony at the Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center on June 28th. (Open rehearsal the day before and free of charge.) Joel Lazar and the JCC Symphony Orchestra (Rockville) will perform the Piano Concerto with Alon Goldstein on June 5th. Next Season – in January and February of 2009 – Shriver Hall will present first Ingrid Fliter then Radu Lupu (!) in recitals that will both include Schumann.
Friday, 5.9.08, 6:00 am
New Releases: CDs
The Cello Suites, Bach - III
"New Releases" posts are regular columns that feature reviews of new CDs that are, for one reason or another, truly outstanding among the many I come across every month.
Over the last few months I’ve looked at recordings of Bach’s Cello Suites including Mischa Maisky on DVD in February and the classic Harnoncourt, Fournier, Rostropovich as well as Steven Isserlis’ new account in April. Still missing from my little survey are three recent recordings: Anne Gastinel’s, Jean-Guihen Queyras’, and that of Gavriel Lipkind. (I will spare you dissecting recent marimba and harp versions in this review, but may cruelly delight in doing so when I write more about transcriptions.)
Gastinel’s account on naïve, the latest of the batch, offers a forward, comparatively lean cello sound; not as happily booming as Schiff / EMI, not as resonant as Lipkind and Queyras, yet in a more subtly reverberant acoustic, with more air around her cello and at a greater distance to the listener. She sounds busier than those two, without actually being faster. She uses less ornamentation than her male colleagues and is, especially compared to Lipkind, less free-wheeling. In the Sarabande of Suite 4 she doesn’t slur through most of the opening. Like Harnoncourt, she taps the first double stop, but doesn’t ‘hold’ it all the way to the next.
She can’t be said to be un-involving, but she is more matter-of-fact (something that is put into perspective when compared to the truly somber Isserlis). Details are very audible in this combination of clean playing and clean sound, but so is – unfortunately – her very pointed inhaling. It is notable to the point where I can detect her recording out of all the others within seconds, just on the account of those breaths. Less impressive than her male colleagues at first, Gastinel becomes dearer and dearer upon second and third hearing. The extraneous noises, though, might be enough to turn me off for good. Unlike the other reviewed recordings (except Rostropovich), Gastinel’s Suites are not arranged in order but, to fit them on two CDs, include Suites 1, 4, and 5 on disc one, Suites 2, 3, and 6 on disc two.
Lipkind’s recording on the edel classics is very special even before you’ve heard a single note. A more lavishly packaged set can scarcely be imagined. In a protective sleeve awaits a thick leathery box (it is made of very thick paper specially treated to imitate leather) with gold lettering and braille dots that unfolds a bit like the Isenheim Altar. In it are three hybrid-SACDs, a ‘map’ to Lipkind’s performance and ideas about the Suites, and extensive, erudite liner notes. Since the set is made by “Lipkind Productions in cooperation with edel classics”, apparently the first volume in a series called “Single Voice Polyphony”, the suspicion arose that this is a very, very fancy vanity production.
Maybe – probably – it is. But whether Lipkind or his father or kind private sponsors paid for this production, or a record company, is insubstantial given the contents. Certainly Gavriel Lipkind, of whom I had never heard before, hasn’t recorded the set of Bach Suites to please all, but precisely in not trying to please everyone he has achieved something that, for the time being, has toppled my Cello Suite hierarchy.
The recorded sound is impressive (which also means: unsubtle), a wee bit less detailed than ideal, but incredibly natural, warm, and breathing. It’s recorded at a nearly ideal distance to the cello: you don’t hear every finger sliding over the strings, nor every breath, and it’s not too distant, either. Occasionally things buzz a little, but then again, so does a real cello. The richness in the tone of the Fifth Suite’s Gavotte might be thought slightly muddy compared to the airy Gastinel – but elsewhere the cello’s sound is among the most beautiful of the eight reviewed, even in regular CD mode.
He plays in a very individual style, varied and elastic, with accents and dynamic variations in abundance. You’d think that Lipkind would need more time than the clear Gastinel with this emotive and liberal style. He doesn’t: sometimes unnoticeably, sometimes flamboyantly, he makes up for time lost with incredibly fleet and light playing, to the point of superficiality in the Gavotte II of Suite No.5, but more often to dazzling effect. Romantic might be a suitable description and with lots of personality. His playing reminds me a little of Christophe Rousset’s style on the harpsichord. Even if you don’t quite follow the elaborate and near-mystical ‘analysis’ of the Suites (interesting though it is) and their interrelation, this is a most tempting offering for all who needn’t have their Bach entirely straight-laced.
Queyras’ recording isn’t dissimilar, but his playing is lighter and more liquid and the recorded sound has very pronounced but somehow light reverb. In direct comparison, this sounds like played in a veritable echo chamber – it’s the Romanesque church St.Syriak in Sulzburg, actually – but that’s more than made up for by the extraordinarily nice cello sound and it never smudges the cello. The Frenchman who has impressed me immensely with his Dvořák album offers a wonderful flexibility (more so than Gastinel), but often less explicitly than Lipkind.
In some ways, Queyras, without copying the old master, could be thought of as a modern Fournier. They differ in details, but they also have details (and timings) in common. Like carrying pedal points from one double stop through an entire phrase to the next double stop. (In the opening of the Sarabande of Suite 4 Lipkind does this, too, Isserlis drops it after two notes, Harnoncourt and Gastinel, as mentioned, only tap it once at the beginning.)
I know someone else has coined the term for a different work, but with Queyras the Suites become the apotheosis of dance. His lightness (a lightness of touch, not the speedy timidity of Isserlis) has immense grace where Lipkind has bold momentum. I wouldn’t want to choose one over the other, but I could imagine that Queyras might yield more pleasure in the long run while Lipkind impresses me more now, his interpretation still new and fresh to my ears. Harmonia Mundi’s 2 CD-set is nicely packaged, too, and offers a bonus DVD of the “Making Of” in French with either English or German subtitles.
Listening to these recordings, it struck me that even those who desire distinctly ‘baroque performance’ are now – ironically – prepared to accept the ‘beautiful indulgences’ that mark Queyras’ and Lipkind’s approach, precisely because the latest wave of HIP (Historically Informed Performance) performers has gotten us used to an exuberant wildness now taken with this music. It is, in a way, via the liberated period performers that the ‘romantic’ element makes strides.
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Wednesday, 5.7.08, 6:00 am
Aimez-vous Brahms? (Symphony No.1, op.68)
"Library Building" posts are reviews of recordings I find to be essential to every good collection of classical music - recordings of interpretations that are the touchstone for their repertoire.
There is very little in any music that is universally liked – and classical music is no exception. Very few music lovers would dismiss Beethoven, though plenty listeners will confess difficulties with his late string quartets, for example. Mozart comes as close to universal adoration as possible, but his very popularity will make dismissing him more attractive. Glenn Gould toyed with this strained and self-conscious idiosyncrasy when he declared Mozart incapable of writing a good piano concerto and generally a bad composer. (Just earlier in April, Gould’s 40-minute Public Broadcasting Laboratory telecast “How Mozart Became a Bad Composer” was screened at the Paley Center in New York and Cinématheque Ontario in Toronto.)
Tchaikovsky, a favorite with nearly all, can cause a rash with those who claim his ballets saccharine and (a few of) his symphonies to be dripping with cloying, unchecked emotions in four out of four movements. A view that I can sympathize with. Brahms, finally, isn’t everybody’s cup of tea, either. New York Times and Washington Post critic Anne Midgette wrote an article called “The Allusionist” in which she admitted that, while “not … actually [finding Brahms’ music] odious”, she has trouble liking his music.
She’s not the only one, of course, to voice dislike or reservation about the music of Brahms, who was born today, 175 years ago in Hamburg. Notable in his dislike and incomprehension of Brahms was another birthday boy, Tchaikovsky - born today, 168 years ago. Tchaikovsky, who knew Brahms personally, thought him a “giftless, self-inflated mediocrity”. (At least Brahms wasn’t the sole victim of Tchaikovsky’s strong opinions: Wagner bored him, he found Handel fourth-rate, and Gluck’s creations “relatively poor, though not unattractive”.)
Brahms’ music is variously described as too academic or too emotional (a strange remark, that, by George Bernhard Shaw). Boston critic Philip Hale suggested Symphony Hall be named “Exit in case of Brahms”, Benjamin Britten and Hugo Wolf quipped devastatingly about Brahms. (Referencing Hale, Leonard Bernstein suggested that the anti-Brahms argument only continues among snobs.)
I myself can’t get the proper appreciation on Brahms’ string quartets, have very mixed feelings about much of the solo piano music, and find the d-minor Piano Concerto consisting of great music, but not being a great concerto. But there are many works that I do love. Most of the chamber music, unequivocally, and the symphonies. Following up on the question of how important exposition and repeat are in a classical work, I’d like to look at recordings –recent and not– of Brahms’ works that I deem meritorious, starting with the First Symphony.
Finished and premiered in 1876, when Brahms was already a seasoned and widely famous composer of 43 years, the First Symphony has a tortured 14-year history. The reason for this long period of gestation – Brahms’ self-doubts, the orchestral ‘trial balloons’ that came before it (Haydn Variations, Serenades, d-minor concerto), his insistence of only delivering a ‘finished’ masterpiece as his first symphony, and the looming shadow of Beethoven – are all factoids well enough known. The point is rather that he succeeded in creating four symphonies that are on a developmentally similar stage, great successes, and staples of the symphonic repertoire since their inception.
Self-aware of its dramatic stance, the first movement stomps away with strings driving one way and the pounding timpani going off in the other direction like an old steamer on the Danube. Best at bringing out the drama of ever diverging elements is undoubtedly Leonard Bernstein with the Vienna Philharmonic. I never owned this performance, recorded in 1981, on CD – and what I remembered wasn’t too exciting. Moreover, a DVD of Bernstein conducting the First and Third Symphony with the Israel Philharmonic (reviewed here) didn’t excite me much.
Watching and listening to the First Symphony now, on the DVD release on Deutsche Grammophon, I found myself positively surprised.
Even without hearing Bernstein’s charming introduction, his performance invokes a sense of piercing dread between the sweetly plucked and lyrical moments that the first movement all has to offer. When Bernstein takes the first movement repeat, he does it more than dutifully. His Brahms is broad, but it isn’t as heavy as I remembered. Of course, comparison to Christian Thielemann’s new recording (also on DG, more about which below), helps put Bernstein’s tempos – I - 17:40 (14:20, without repeat), II - 11:06, III - 5:40, IV - 19:29 – in perspective.
Like Bernstein’s, so is James Levine’s Brahms with the Vienna Philharmonic recorded live – and the playing is excellent in either case; a bit smoother for Levine. The Andante sostenuto is a miracle to the extent that Bernstein manages to sustain it at all over 11+ minutes, but remains legitimately contentious. I prefer Levine here, who certainly is not lacking breadth or sumptuousness, clocking in at a fairly conventional 9 ½ minutes. Indeed, in all but the last movement, the ‘broader-sounding-than-he-is’ Levine’s pace is the same or marginally quicker than the no-nonsense Szell (CBS/Sony, Cleveland Orchestra) and the propulsive Günter Wand (RCA, North German Radio Symphony Orchestra [NDRSO]).
If weighty Brahms at reasonable or “normal” tempos is your thing, Levine is among the uncontroversial top choices. Weightier still, and well possibly controversial, is one of the newest recordings, Christian Thielemann’s. It’s a live account from June of 2006 in which he manages what he hadn’t quite been able to do with his Bruckner 5th from two years before – he out-slows Sergiu Celibidache (EMI, also live, also with the Munich Philharmonic). This recording opens with an excellent Egmont Overture (Beethoven) that fits into the high-romantic dress very well: the juxtaposition of noble breadth and gentle power, supported by thundering timpani rolls, convey something of the “firestorm of burning passion” that the SZ-reviewer of the live performance heard.
The Brahms, alas, is of questionable merit. If you like Brahms as a weighty bully, a juggernaut of a romantic symphony, there is much you will find to enjoy in the sumptuous playing of the Munich Philharmonic. Less so, for anyone else. Timings cannot convey everything – sometimes nothing. But here the impression of the ear is in accordance with the numbers. Consider Thielemann’s 14:33 for the first movement – and that’s without the repeat that Thielemann does take.
Some moments sound threatening and lumbering, but on the upside the transitions are well cared for, the voices are developed organically out of the material, and the brass chorale after a good four minutes into the fourth movement (in the Più andante from “C” onward) is every bit as touching as it should be. But the dynamics are, surprisingly, narrower than wide, and the sound rich but not ideally clear. It’s a performance I would have loved to be at in concert and a recording I’d love had I been. As it is, I admire much in it and move on, largely unmoved.
Speaking of unmoved: Wolfgang Sawallisch, a Kapellmeister I much admire, sees his 1991 Brahms First with the London Philharmonic Orchestra re-issued for the umpteenth time. This time again on EMI (the cycle has also been licensed to Brilliant Classics) on their “3” series. Packaged like this, at super-budget price, it’s a good investment for the Schicksalslied, Tragic-, and Academic Festival Overtures, and the Haydn Variations that are also included – but the symphonies, including the First, don’t rise far above the capable and adroit. (Sawallisch, unsurprisingly, does not include the first movement repeat.)
Apart from Thielemann and Celibidache, the Munich Philharmonic has also recorded the Brahms First with James Levine (live on Oehms Classics, which I haven’t heard), and live with Günter Wand on Hänssler Profil. Coupled with a very fine Beethoven First Symphony from 1994, Wand’s autumnal 1997 Brahms does not enthuse me greatly. A rather slow performance, it lacks the tension and energy to navigate the longueurs without sagging. For the extended line, Thielemann, Bernstein, and Celibidache offer more, even in their exaggeration. But most unfavorable is the comparison of Wand with himself from 1983 with the NDRSO.
From the introduction to the last note, this ‘83 recording is the most energetic and propulsive recording I know, with unfailing momentum and excitement. It compares well to the rightfully classic Szell and the somewhat overrated, though equally classic, Toscanini (RCA, NBC Symphony Orchestra). It isn’t so much a fast performance (the fast movements are actually slower than with Levine) as it is a quickening one. The tempi, even within the movements, are between similar and identical with Szell, no note is ever caught slacking, everything is played ‘on the toes’. The slow second and fourth movements benefit from the pace by presenting the music as if unquestionably cut from one cloth.
No Brahms First has yet surpassed Wand in my estimation – but one that came awfully close is Marek Janowski’s with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. The first installment of a new Brahms cycle on Pentantone SACDs, it demonstrates how good it is to have this orchestra recording regularly again. (With Baltimore on Naxos, Philadelphia on Ondine, Cleveland and LA on DG, Chicago on its own label, and Minnesota on BIS, the American orchestra recording scene –all but dead a few years ago– is revived again, proving the gloomy naysayers wrong.)