Hans Rott: Symphony No. 1 (CD review)

Also, Mahler, Bruckner. Jakub Hrusa, Bamberg Symphony Orchestra. DG 486 2932.

By John J. Puccio

“Hans Rott wrote his First Symphony--filled with groundbreaking musical ideas and a unique vision for how the symphony could develop--at a time when his younger schoolmate Mahler was barely getting started and his mentor Bruckner was struggling through his middle period. Jakub Hrusa and the Bamberger Symphoniker present this masterpiece alongside words by Bruckner and Mahler, shining a new light on a work which deserves to sit at the centre of the symphonic repertoire.” --DG liner notes

Mahler described Rott as “a musician of genius...who died unrecognized and in want on the very threshold of his career.... What music has lost in him cannot be estimated. Such is the height to which his genius soars in...[his] Symphony, which he wrote as a 20-year-old youth and makes him...the Founder of the New Symphony as I see it. To be sure, what he wanted is not quite what he achieved.... But I know where he aims. Indeed, he is so near to my inmost self that he and I seem to me like two fruits from the same tree which the same soil has produced and the same air nourished. He could have meant infinitely much to me and perhaps the two of us would have well-nigh exhausted the content of new time which was breaking out for music.”

The question has always been: Did Rott’s one and only full symphony influence Gustav Mahler’s compositions to come, or did the young Mahler somehow influence Rott’s writing of his First Symphony? We’ll probably never know for sure, but Maestro Jakub Hrusa and his Bamberg Symphony players do their best to illuminate the comparisons among Rott, Mahler, and Bruckner.

Whatever, it’s a shame composer and organist Hans Rott ((1858-1884) completed only a handful of tunes before he died. It seems that after writing his Symphony in E in 1880 Rott tried pressing it on both Brahms and Bruckner, but they wouldn’t have it. Brahms even became annoyed with Rott's pushiness (and possibly with some of the symphony's content, which he felt mimicked his own work), telling him he had no talent whatsoever. As a result of these and other obstacles, Rott’s Symphony fell into obscurity (it was not performed publicly until 1989), and Rott himself became depressed, delusional, and hostile. The state locked him up in a mental institution while he was in his early twenties, and he died there a few years later.

The present disc opens with Rott’s Symphony No. 1 in E-major, which has always reminded me of Schumann in the opening, Wagner in some of bigger, grander passages, and Brahms in the Finale. There is also a goofy third-movement Scherzo, which does, indeed, sound a lot like Mahler, the similarities being much too obvious, it seems to me, to have been mere coincidence. I like Rott’s intriguing, atmospheric, and mostly pleasurable (if not entirely memorable) passages, but in the end, it sounds to me too much like a pastiche of ideas. Still, I do like that bizarre Scherzo and the overall Romanticism of the piece.

The symphony begins quietly, much like Mahler’s First, though with both a Wagnerian and Schumann-like flavor. Then, by the time the first movement gets moving, we hear a touch of Brahms. I have to admit that I have never heard the Rott Symphony played in a live performance, but by the measure of the several recordings I’ve heard of it, I have never been overly impressed. That said, Hrusa does a fine job making the opening sound more imposing than I’ve heard it before. Of course, whether that is good or bad is entirely in the ear of the beholder.

The slow second movement Adagio seems more appealing at its outset than it does in its development, which doesn’t appear to go anywhere. Not even Hrusa can salvage it, although his sensitive hand guides us through it with a gentle sweetness.

Thankfully, we are rescued by that eccentric Scherzo I’ve mentioned, a jolly affair that couldn’t help inspiring Mahler. Under Hrusa’s direction, it marches steadily forward, pauses briefly for a quiet middle interlude, then resumes with vigor in a series of anticlimaxes. Hrusa keeps it under control as best he can before barely reining it in at the end.

The symphony culminates in a lengthy grand finale, which begins as the symphony began--in muted solitude. Then it quickly builds up a head of steam, which Hrusa and his Bamberg forces play to the hilt, amplifying, reducing, broadening, inflaming, inflating, decreasing, and stretching almost interminably. Yet Hrusa is skillful enough never to let it become overly bombastic, just overly drawn-out.

Following the Rott Symphony, Hrusa gives us two more works, the Andante allegretto “Blumine” by Mahler and the Symphonic Prelude in C minor by Bruckner. Hrusa’s purpose, of course, is to show us similarities in the writing of all three composers, even if the comparisons cannot offer any definite proof of who might have influenced whom. I can say I liked both the Mahler and Bruckner pieces better than I liked the Rott, but that rather misses the point.

Producers Eckhard Glauche, Johnannes Gleim, and Sebastian Braun and engineer Markus Spatz, Christian Jaeger, and Thorsten Kuhn recorded the music in the Konzerthalle, Bamberg in 2021 and 2022. There’s a good sense of depth to the orchestra, noticeable from the very beginning, and enough hall resonance to provide a realistic ambience. A slightly greater distancing makes the sound a mite soft and cloudy, though, so expect a seat in an auditorium perhaps more than halfway back. It makes for big, sometimes massive sound that complements the big, massive sections of the Rott score but tends to leave the quieter passages too recessed.

JJP

Bruckner: Symphony No. 4 “Romantic” (CD review)

Christian Thielemann, Vienna Philharmonic. Sony 19439914112.

By John J. Puccio

Austrian composer Anton Bruckner (1824-1896) wrote his Fourth and possibly most popular symphony in 1874 but continued to revise it over the next dozen or so years. Conductor Hans Richter premiered it in Vienna in 1881, but that wouldn’t be the end to the revisions by Bruckner himself and by various musical scholars over the next hundred years. In the present recording, Maestro Christian Thielemann conducts the Vienna Philharmonic, using the 1878/1880 Haas edition.

Bruckner was a deeply spiritual man, as illustrated by his music. As he was writing the symphony during the height of the Romantic era, he subtitled the work “Romantic.” Then he helped listeners understand his spiritual and Romantic notions by using each of the symphony’s movements to represent scenes from Nature, from knights riding out of a medieval castle through the mists of dawn to the sounds of the forest and birds, to a funeral, then a hunt, complete with horn calls, and finally a brilliant culminating summation.

In the first movement Bruckner offers us a vision of Nature, and the composer’s several scenic landscapes remind us of how much Bruckner admired Beethoven and Wagner. Here, according to the composer, “...after a full night's sleep the day is announced by the horn.” Other authorities have argued that the composer wanted us to see a morning breaking, the mists giving way to dawn around a medieval castle, and an army of knights bursting out from the castle gates in a blaze of glory. Thielemann does a good job with that “blaze of glory” business and works up a good head of steam in the dramatic segments of the score, although he seems a little ponderous and ungainly in the more lyrical sections.

The second-movement is an Andante, in this case a serenade, musicologists sometimes describing it as representing a young lad's amorous but ultimately hopeless longings and expressions. Whatever, Thielemann does his best to provide the music with heart, perhaps more heart, more tender emotion, than we usually hear. It also appears slower than we may be accustomed to, perhaps accounting for Thielemann’s added sentiment.

Bruckner teasingly called the lively third-movement Scherzo “a rabbit hunt,” and clearly it should build up a suitable momentum as it goes forward. This, it seems to me, is Thielemann’s most-accomplished movement. It’s not so hectic and we sometimes hear and provides an agreeable contrast to the preceding serenade.

Bruckner opens the Finale with a heroic theme, then works his way into a more idyllic second subject, eventually reworking both themes into a closing statement. Everything begins rather ominously, with dark clouds overhead, leading to a thunderstorm. However, the storm soon breaks and gives way to variations on the symphony's heroic opening music and then a summation of all the parts. Now, if you’ve ever wondered what it means, not even Bruckner was quite sure. He said of it, “...even I myself can’t say what I was thinking about at the time.” Trying to draw a coherent structure from Bruckner’s disparate elements is a daunting task for any conductor, and Thielemann doesn’t come much closer than most anyone else. It still sounds like a series of climaxes, anticlimaxes, and still more climaxes. Under Thielemann the more gentle strands tend to stand out, which only serves to make the grandeur of the alternating passages the more problematic.

The real question with any popular piece of classical music, of course, is whether a new recording of it is worth investigating, given the number of great performances already available. For instance, we already have fine performances by Otto Klemperer (EMI), Karl Bohm (Decca), Eugen Jochum (DG and EMI), Gunther Wand (RCA), Herbert von Karajan (DG), and Georg Tintner (Naxos), among many others. So, does Thielemann compete? Well, of course, he competes. It’s just that if one does not own any or all of the aforementioned recordings, they should be given preferential consideration. Otherwise, fans of Thielemann will not be unhappy with his recording.

On an aside, the booklet notes I received were rather jumbled, with pages either missing or printed in the wrong order. No biggie, but a minor annoyance.

Producer Arend Prohmann and engineer Peter Hecker made the recording at the Salzburg Festival, Grosses Festpielhaus, in August 2020. The music opens very softly and at a normal output setting one hears an odd background buzz or hum. It disappears as soon as the music’s volume increases, but still.... From this point things proceed to sound like a typical modern recording, albeit with an extraordinarily wide dynamic range. Otherwise, it is pleasantly ambient, the orchestra magnificent as always, appearing rich and natural, if a tad distant, and with a little fizz to the edges of high notes.

JJP

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below:

Recent New Releases (CD mini-reviews)

By
Karl W. Nehring

Hilary
Hahn: Paris
Chausson:
Poème; Prokofiev: Concerto for Violin and Orchestra No. 1;
Rautavaara: Deux Sérénades. Hilary Hahn, violin; Mikko Franck, Orchestre
Philharmonique de Radio France. Deutsche Grammophon  483 9847.

This
new release from the talented American violinist Hilary Hahn is a delight from
start to finish. Although the album title and orchestra might lead you to
assume a program featuring all French composers, that is not the case here, for
in addition to the French composer Ernest Chausson (1855-1899) we have also
music by the Russian composer Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953) and the Finnish
composer Einojuhani Rautavaara (1928-2016). Hahn reveals her deep affection for
and kinship with the City of Light in an essay in which she explains that in
addition to her many other connections with Paris, her violin was made in Paris
way back in 1865 by a famed luthier whose shop has in the 21st century been
replaced by a convenience store. On a brighter note, she also reveals that she
had long desired to record the Prokofiev, one of her favorite and
most-performed pieces, but was waiting for the right combination of time,
place, orchestra, and conductor, which she realized in Paris with Franck and
the OPRF in June of 2019. The end result is truly lovely, well worth the wait
both for her and for us. Those who might associate Prokofiev with spiky,
boisterous music would do well to listen to this performance of his Violin
Concerto No. 1, which is lyrical, lively, and lovely. Hahn describes the
Chausson Poème with which she opens the program as “raw, lush,
heartbreakingly beautiful… it takes my breath away.” Although I have in the
past owned recordings of this piece, and enjoyed them, I had not heard the
piece in many years until I auditioned this new recording, and yes, I found it
to be much as she described. It truly is a marvelous work, well worth seeking
out if you have not yet encountered it. The background story behind the Deux
Sérénades by Rautavaara that complete this release is told in the liner
notes, a tale that I will not relate here but will rather leave for those who
might be interested to seek out for themselves. The music is quite enjoyable,
but in truth, does not quite sound complete, which a reading of the liner notes
will explain. All in all, Paris is a heartfelt and satisfying release
from some consummate musicians.

Parallels:
Shellac Reworks by Christian Löffler
Wagner:
Parsifal: Closing Scene (Arr. for Orchestra). Max von Schillings,
Staatskapelle Berlin (1926-27); Smetana: The Moldau (excerpt). Erich
Kleiber, Staatskapelle Berlin (1928); J.S. Bach: Dir, dir Jehova, will ich
singen BWV 452. Karl Straube, Thomanerchor Leipzig; Helmut Walcha, organ
(1927); J.S. Bach: Gavotte from English Suite No. 6, BWV 811. Alfred
Grunfeld, piano (1911); Chopin: Nocturne No. 2 in E flat Major Op. 9 No. 2 (arr.
De Sarasate). Charles Cerne, piano; Vasa Prihoda, violin (1929); Bizet: Nadir’s
Aria from Les pecheurs des perles. Koloman von Pataky, tenor; unknown
orchestra (1928); excerpts from four works by Beethoven: Symphony No. 6.
Hans Pfitzner, Staatskapelle Berlin (1930); Symphony No. 5, 2. Satz.
Richard Strauss, Staatskapelle Berlin (1928); Egmont Overture. Otto
Klemperer, Staatskapelle Berlin (1927); Symphony No. 3, 2. Marcia funebre.
Hans Pfitzner, Berliner Philharmoniker (1929). Christian Löffler, electronics.
Deutsche Grammophon 4839660.

This
is a recording that truly blends the old and the new. Deutsche Grammophon has
one of the oldest sound archives in the world, having taken great care to store
their recorded material ever since the label’s foundation in 1898. Shellac
discs (78s) that held about four minutes of music per side were the dominant
recording format until the 1940s. A number of these historic recordings have
now been digitized and restored, and DG recently teamed with German DJ and
producer Christian Löffler, who hand-picked from this collection of digitized
shellac recordings a set for modern reworking. Löffler is a self-taught
musician whose productions combine elements of dancefloor techno and ambient
electronica. He says that his music “is often described as nostalgic, it’s just
part of my musical world. Sad music – if you want to call it that – has always been
more appealing to me than happy music… I’m quite nerdy when it comes to trendy
music production techniques. I’m very forward thinking and always interested in
new technologies. But many of my trademark sounds come from vintage
synthesizers and old effects devices. I’m just trying to catch the best of any
time period to get the best possible result. My aspiration with this project
was to handle the music with all due respect. That is something I always do
when I work with other people’s music, be it a remix or collaboration. My aim
for Parallels was to bring the soul of my own music into these original
pieces. I also wanted to keep some parts of the original music almost
untouched, to give the listener a better understanding of the original material
in the context of its new ‘home’.” Yes, his description sounds a bit bizarre,
but the end result is fascinating, hypnotic, and haunting. Electronic sounds,
acoustic sounds, voices from nearly a century ago rising from the mix -- this
is a recording that can be enjoyed both in casual and concentrated listening
modes.

Refraction
Alexander
Woods, violin; Rex Woods, piano; Aubrey Smith Woods, violin. MSR Classics MS
1689.

As
you might guess from the names of the performers, this album of music for
violin is a family affair, presented by violinist Alexander Woods along with
his pianist father, Rex Woods, and his violinist wife, Aubrey Smith Woods.
(Perhaps I am being overly sensitive, but I did find it rather odd that on both
the front and back covers the three names are printed in three distinctly
rank-ordered font styles: ALEXANDER WOODS, REX WOODS, Aubrey Smith
Woods. Hmmmm…)  The four composers are a
mix of the familiar and unfamiliar: Dvorak, Asplund, Mozart, and Thorndock. As
the liner notes explain, “although the violin itself has remained virtually
unchanged for centuries, music composed for the instrument has undergone
numerous and vivid transformations, shaped and developed by varied
circumstances, styles and innovations. Like a light beam passing through a prism.
Works written for the violin have, over time, refracted into a broad stylistic
array of vibrant compositional perspectives. This album mingles canonic violin
works from the past with recent compositions that explore this variegated play,
engaging with the rich history of violin music and performance through myriad
lenses.” The album opens with Four Romantic Pieces from Dvorak for
violin and piano, which are played here most romantically and enjoyably, a fine
way to start the program. Unfortunately, the next composition, One Eternal
Round for two violins by Canadian-American composer Christian Asplund (b.
1964), does not fall nearly as naturally on the ear as the others included in
this set. Although it is not aggressively harsh or dissonant as some contemporary
music can be, to these ears at least, it simply lacked any real appeal. YMMV.
But then the players move back to familiar ground with Mozart’s Violin
Sonata No. 26, a refreshing drink of cool, clear water after the dryness of
the Asplund. The final composition, A Crust of Azure by American
composer Neil Thorndock (b. 1977), is said in the liner notes to be “influenced
by the impression of music coming down from the sky, ringing like
reverberations from a bell tower. The evocative movement titles [I. Tremulous
Whirl, II. Refraction of Sky, III. Lavender Shroud] allude to the atmospheric
colors, light effects and sensations that descend from the sky’s ‘crust of
azure.’”  It truly is a colorful piece,
lively and imaginative, well worth an audition for fans of the violin who are
seeking interesting new repertoire. With excellent engineering and helpful
liner notes, MSR Classics has done a first-class job with this release.    

Max
Richter: Voices 2
Max
Richter, piano, keyboards, organ, synthesizer; Mari Samuelsson, solo violin;
Ian Burdge, solo cello; Camilla Pay, harp; Robert Ziegler, conductor; Tenebrae
Choir; various sopranos and altos plus a number of violin, viola, cello, and
double bass players. Decca B00332480-02.

Although Richter’s previous release, Voices (reviewed ) spotlighted the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, including spoken recitations of the text, Voices 2 is exclusively musical, with no textual recitations. According to Richter, Voices 2 “opens up a meditative instrumental musical space to consider the ideas raised by the first record. The music is less about the world we know already and more about the hope for the future we have yet to write.” Those familiar with Richter’s music will know what to expect: music that is on the one hand relatively simple and straightforward in terms of its melodic, harmonic, and rhythmic construction, yet on the other hand, rich and evocative in terms of its instrumentation, sonority, and emotional resonance. There are some striking sounds to be heard from Richter’s various keyboard instruments both acoustic and electronic, plus some particularly notable musical contributions by Mari Samuelsson on violin and Ian Burdge on cello. And no, you need not have listened to Voices to enjoy its successor, which is quite enjoyable on its own terms. 

Lento
Religioso
Berg:
Piano Sonata op. 1 (arr. Wijnand van Klaveren); Korngold: Lento
Religioso from Symphonic Serenade; Bruckner; Adagio from String Quintet;
Bridge: Lament for string orchestra (for Catherine, aged 9, “Lusitania”
1915); Lekeu: Adagio pour quatuor d’orchestre; Wagner: Prelude
from Tristan und Isolde; Strauss; Prelude from Capriccio. Candida
Thompson, Amsterdam Sinfonietta. Channel Classics CCS 36620.

As a
glance at the titles of the works included in this generously filled (77:41)
disc should suggest, this release features music from the more serious, somber
pages of the classical music catalog. That is not to say, however, that
listening to it is an emotional downer, as this is music of great depth and
exquisite beauty, played with sensitivity by this relatively small string
orchestra. Some of the selections are scaled down (e.g., the Wagner), some are
scaled up (e.g., the Berg and the Bruckner), and some were originally intended
for an ensemble of about this size. The engineering is first-rate, with clean
string tone and a believable soundfield. All in all, an interesting program of
some works a bit off the beaten path that should be especially appealing to
those who appreciate music of a serious, reflective, but nonetheless
aesthetically engaging nature.

Lindberg:
The Waves of Wollongong
Also,
Liverpool Lullabies; 2017. The New Trombone Collective; Evelyn
Glennie, percussion; Christian Lindberg, trombone and conductor, Antwerp
Symphony Orchestra. BIS-2148 SACD.

If I
had to come up with a one-word description of this release by the Swedish
composer, trombonist, and conductor Christian Lindberg (b. 1958) it would be
“robust.” Or maybe “outgoing.” Or possibly even “swaggering.” It most certainly
would not be “reticent” or “tentative.” The opening piece, The Waves of
Wollongong (the title refers to waves the composer had experienced in
Wollongong, Australia) features the nine trombones (three each alto, tenor, and
bass) of The New Trombone Collective making mighty waves of sound along with
the orchestra, while the second piece, Liverpool Lullabies, seems hardly
the sort of music to little ones to sleep as Lindberg on trombone and the
amazing Ms. Glennie on percussion give off plenty of sparks with their
energetic playing. The final piece, 2017, was composed by Lindberg
during that turbulent, discouraging, frightening year as a reaction to the 2016
U.S. presidential election and its disturbing aftermath, and is dedicated to
the journalist Rachel Maddow. Needless to say, it is not a cheerful piece, but
it is musically engaging. As per their usual standard, the BIS engineering team
has captured this robust music in robust, dynamic, swaggering sound that will
tickle your tweeters and waggle your woofers.

Vaughan
Williams: Symphonies Nos. 4 and 6
Sir
Antonio Pappano, London Symphony Orchestra. LSO Live SACD LSO0867.

Vaughan
Williams may well be the most underrated symphonic composer. For my money, his
nine rank right up there with the best, and when it comes to the heart of his
symphonic output, Symphonies Nos. 3, 4, 5, and 6, I can’t think of any
composer whose 4-6 I would rate above RVW’s – not Mahler, not Bruckner, not
Sibelius, and no, not even the immortal Beethoven. Of those four RVW
symphonies, the odd-numbered are primarily lyrical and peaceful, while the two
even-numbered symphonies, especially No.4, are much more brash and
assertive. Pappano and the LSO hold nothing back, with the opening notes of No.
4 bursting forth with startling ferocity. This bold beginning sets the tone
for the entire disc, which presents both symphonies forcefully and
energetically. My only quibble is with some harshness in the upper strings; to
be honest, I am not sure how much is the engineering or how much can be
attributed to the vigor of the performance. My first choice in both symphonies has been the Slatkin recordings from his RCA boxed set (now distributed by Sony Music at a bargain price), but for those looking for a single disc of these two remarkable 20th century masterpieces, this new release from Pappano and the LSO is a top choice. Highly recommended.

KWN

Recent Releases (CD Mini-reviews)

By Karl W. Nehring

Christopher Tin: To Shiver the Sky.
Danielle de Niese, soprano; Pene Pati, tenor; ModernMedieval; Royal Opera
Chorus; Pembroke College Girls’ Choir; The Assembly; Anna Lapwood, Organ;
Christopher Tin, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. Decca Gold B0032422-02.

The foreword to the liner notes proclaims
that “This is the story of flight: of humanity’s quest to break the bonds of
earth, challenge the heavens, and take our rightful place among the stars… This
is the story of flight told through music, and through the words of 11 of
history’s pioneers, pilots and engineers, scientists and storytellers,
stargazers and mystics, men and women who freed us from the shackles of
gravity, and stretched the limits of our imagination. It’s the greatest
adventure on which man has ever embarked.” That is certainly an ambitious aim,
and although I will freely admit to some skepticism, I will humbly admit that I
was entertained and indeed won over by the music of the young American composer
Christopher Tin (b. 1976), of whom I had never heard before checking this CD
out of the library. With lyrics from historical figures such as Leonardo da
Vinci, Ovid, Copernicus, Yuri Gagarin, and others, sung in a variety of
languages, with grand musical arrangements and powerful sonics, this truly is a
release that will make a music-loving audiophile shiver in delight.

Beethoven: Symphony No. 5; Gossec: Symphonie
à 17 parties. François-Xavier Roth, Les Siècles. Harmonia Mundi HMM 902423.

I recently completed a modest survey of
recordings of Beethoven’s venerable Symphony No. 5 in which I looked at both
period instrument recordings (7/5 of Beethoven Part 1) and those by modern orchestral forces (7/5 of Beethoven Part 2). Having spent so much time listening to
that work, wonderful though it is, I was not really all that eager to audition
yet another recording of it, but this new recording by Maestro Roth and his
French period-instrument orchestra had two appealing things going for it.
First, I had heard previous recordings they had made of music by Debussy and
Ravel and had been quite impressed by both the performance and sound; second, I
had never heard of the French composer François-Joseph Gossec (1734-1829) and
was curious to hear his music. As it turned out upon auditioning this well-engineered
Harmonia Mundi CD, my curiosity was richly rewarded. Although the Beethoven
performance does not quite edge out the Savall for pride of place in my
personal pantheon, this is a fine version that is well worth hearing,
especially for those who have not yet heard the Fifth performed by other
than a modern orchestra. But the real ear-opener was the Gossec, an energetic
symphony that fully deserves to be heard alongside the mighty Beethoven work.
What as pleasant surprise! Listening to the Gossec reminded me of when I
finally sat down and listened seriously to the Beethoven Symphony No. 2, a
work I had always neglected in favor of his other symphonies. My goodness, what
had I been missing all those years?! Hearing the Gossec gave me a similar
feeling–why had I never heard this music before?! This is an exciting,
stimulating work, fully deserving to be heard alongside Beethoven, and I intend
to seek out more music by this composer. I suspect that if you give this CD a
listen, you may well want to do the same.

Borodin: Requiem. Ian Boughton,
tenor; Stephanie Chase, violin; Margaret Field, soprano; Geoffrey Simon,
Philharmonia Orchestra/BBC Symphony Chorus. Cala Signum SIGCD2094.

Longtime classical music fans might
remember Australian-born conductor Geoffrey Simon (b. 1946) from those superb
Debussy recordings he made with the Philharmonia for the Cala label back in the
early ‘90s. Those recordings are what sprang to my mind when I saw this new
release at the library; indeed, I was surprised to see that Simon was
apparently back at it three decades later. It was not until I had already
played (and thoroughly enjoyed) this CD a couple of times that I read the fine
print to discover that although the copyright for this release was 2020, the
recording was done in 1992. I then took a quick look on Amazon and found out
that this program was originally released on Cala in 1993 as a Borodin
collection, then reissued by Cala in 2006 with a new cover, this time
highlighting the Requiem, and now it is being reissued once again as a
Cala Signum release, with another new cover that once again highlights the Requiem.

If you were not aware that the Russian
chemist and composer Alexander Borodin (1833-1887) wrote a requiem, you need
not be embarrassed. This is not a requiem mass in the manner of Mozart,
Beethoven, Berlioz, Verdi, et al. It is one movement that lasts only
5:26 as performed here. And oh, by the way, the original was a little piano
piece by Borodin; the orchestration done by the conductor Leopold Stokowski. Why,
then, is it the title of the album? Ahh, the mysteries of life and classical
music marketing…

That said, it is an interesting enough
little piece, and the rest of the program consists of more substantial fare
that highlights the colorful, melodic music for which Borodin is famous. There
are the Polovstian Dances and Suite from Prince Igor, an arrangement for
violin and orchestra by fellow Russian composer Rimsky-Korsakov of Borodin’s Nocturne
from his String Quartet No. 2, his symphonic poem In the Steppes of
Central Asia, and finally, his Petite Suite, which Borodin
originally wrote for the piano but was later orchestrated by Glazunov. All in
all, what we have here is more than 78 minutes of colorful, expressive,
well-recorded music that offers a great overview and introduction to
Borodin.    

Desplat: Airlines. Emmanuel Pahud,
flute; Alexandre Desplat, Orchestre National de France. Warner Classics
0190295306878.

French film composer Alexandre Desplat (b.
1961) has won Academy awards for his scores for The Shape of Water and The
Grand Budapest Hotel, both of which are represented in arrangements of
excerpts on this imposing new release from Warner Classics is which Desplat
makes a case for considering film music as serious music, not just light music
for entertainment. The program also includes his Pelléas et Mélisande,
which the composer describes as a Symphony concertante inspired by
Debussy and written to highlight the sound of the flute, played here by
renowned French flautist Emmanuel Pahud (an article about Pahud’s golden flute
appears in the March 2021 issue of Gramophone, which coincidentally
enough arrived at my abode the same day as I first auditioned this CD). Yes,
overall this CD sounds for the most part like movie music, but it is very fine
movie music; indeed, it is very good music period, and well-recorded to boot.
Some may find the sweetness of the music combined with the sweetness of the
flute a bit too caloric, but hey, we all enjoy an occasional overindulgence,
right? No, this is not the kind of music I would be likely to play over and
over, but for those who enjoy cinematic sound, this is well worth an audition.
(And if you have never seen The Grand Budapest Hotel, you definitely
need to fill that gap in your cinematic experience…)     

Shostakovich: Symphony No. 11 (“The
Year 1905”). Vladimir Jurowski, London Philharmonic Orchestra. London
Philharmonic Orchestra LPO-0118.

The Symphony No. 11 (“The Year 1905”) by Russian composer Dmitri Shostakovich
(1906-1975) comes across in many ways more like one big tone poem than it does
a symphony, which is not surprising, given that its four movements are each
given tone-poem-like titles and that the four movements are played without
pause. To my mind, at least, as much as I admire Shostakovich, No. 11 is
one of those pieces you just have to be in the mood for, and frankly, that mood
does not strike me often. When it does, though, I want a performance that
really brings the music to life, and this one by Jurowski and the LPO just does
not do it for me. It just seems too polite, too matter-of-fact. When I am in
the mood to hear this work, I would much rather listen to the rendition by the
Boston Symphony Orchestra under Andris Nelsons on DG, a performance and
recording of significantly greater impact and power. YMMV. 

Bruckner: Mass in E minor; Motets.
Henry Websdale and Donal McCann, organ; Sir Stephen Cleobury, The Choir of
King’s College, Cambridge/Academy of St. Martin’s in the Fields. King’s College
Cambridge KG50035.

Bruckner is most well-known for his
symphonies, but he also composed in other genres, such as masses and motets.
This recording presents the second of his three masses plus several of his
motets. Unfortunately, I was immediately put off by the sound of the voices,
which to my ears at least just sounded young and shouty, just not right for
this music. Thinking I was perhaps in some sort of churlish mood, I pulled out
an older DG recording of the same E minor Mass as performed by the Choir
and Orchestra of the Bavarian Radio Symphony under the direction of Eugen
Jochum and was immediately reassured that no, the problem was neither my mood
nor my hearing, it was with the sound of the young English choir. That is a
shame, because in every other respect – engineering, liner notes, etc. – this
is truly a first-class release, but the sonority of the choir simply seems
inadequate to communicate the deep beauty of this music. In the end, this is a
disappointing release.    

Bach: Goldberg Variations. Parker
Ramsay, harp. King’s College Cambridge KG50049.

From the same label comes a recording that
is the very opposite of a disappointment. This performance the young American
musician Parker Ramsay of Bach’s immortal Goldberg Variations is utterly
delightful, first-class in every respect. But what makes it truly revelatory is
that Ramsay has not recorded them on piano, nor on harpsichord, but instead he
has recorded a transcription he made for harp, and rather than sounding like
some sort of novelty, it sounds perfectly natural, musical, and glorious. In
the liner notes, Ramsay asserts that he “wanted to show the world that the harp
is not a toy for composers to whip out in precious moments in orchestral music,
but a serious instrument whose variety of timbre can hold the attention span of
a listener for an hour or more.” For a spellbinding 78 minutes and 45 seconds,
this recording proves his point. If you are a fan of the Goldbergs, you
really ought to put this recording on your must-hear list. It will give you a
whole new perspective on the musical possibilities of the harp as well as a
deeper appreciation for the genius of Bach.    

#Goldberg
Reflections: Niklas Liepe, violin; Jamie Phillips, NDR Radiophilharmonie.
Sony Music 19439778302.

From
Sony comes another fascinating perspective on the possibilities inherent in the
Goldbergs, not from a single instrument this time, but rather from an
ensemble. Or, more precisely, ensembles, not only of performers but also
of composers. On this ambitious two-CD album, violinist Niklas Liepe has masterminded
a musical collection consisting of arrangements of movements from the Goldbergs
interspersed with brief compositions by contemporary composers that are
reactions to, reflections upon, takeoffs from, or otherwise inspired by Bach’s
iconic composition. The musicians include Niklas Liepe, violin; Nils Liepe,
harpsichord and piano; Anna Lewis, solo viola; Nikolai Schneider, cello;
Friedrich Heinrich Kern, vibraphone; and conductor Jamie Phillips leading the
NDR Radiophilharmonie. The composers include Rolf Rudin (b. 1961, Germany),
Sidney Corbett (b. 1960, USA), Andreas Tarkmann (b. 1956, Germany), Dominik
Dieterle (b. 1989, Germany), Wolf Kerschek (b. 1969, Germany), Moritz Eggert
(b. 1965, Germany), Daniel Sundy (b. 1979, USA), Tobias Rokahr (b. 1972,
Germany), Friedrich Heinrich Kern (b. 1980, Germany), Stephan Koncz (b. 1984,
Austria), and Konstantia Gourzi (b. 1962, Greece). This might sound like a huge
hodgepodge, but it all blends together into an entertaining whole that stays
true to Bach while expanding the conception of the variations. Yes, it expands
from Bach, but is firmly rooted in Bach, and never strays from style or
sonority that sounds estranged from the sound-world of the Goldbergs.
The end result is spellbinding, one that should appeal to just about anyone who
loves the music of Bach, and even to those who have not yet discovered the
music of the great master. I simply cannot recommend this too highly; it is one
heck of a hoot!

LCO Live -
Vaughan Williams | Suk | Dvorak. Christopher Warren-Green, London Chamber
Orchestra. Signum Classics SIGCD638.

Sometimes you
just need to be reminded how lovely certain music can be. Auditioning this CD,
which I had added with some reluctance to the stack of new releases I had found
at the library, did just that for me. What a revealing reminder of what I had
been missing from music I had long neglected! Not so much the opening piece,
the Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis by Ralph Vaughan Williams, for
I play a lot of RVW’s music and the Tallis Fantasia is often included on
various RVW releases, but even in this case, the beauty of this performance by
the London Chamber Orchestra under the baton of Maestro Warren-Green quickly
brought a smile to my face. It was the Serenades by Suk and his teacher
Dvorak that really made my day, for I had truly forgotten just how beautiful,
how moving, how rewarding these works are. With more that 70 minutes of
lovingly performed, warmly recorded music for strings, this is truly a
recording to both stir and soothe the soul, delivering whatever your soul might
need during these difficult days.

KWN

Bruckner: Symphony No. 4 "Romantic" (CD review)

Esa-Pekka Salonen, Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra. Sony SK 63301.



Bruckner tried to write a literary program to go with his Fourth Symphony. For the First Movement he wrote: "A citadel of the Middle Ages. Daybreak. Reveille is sounded from the tower. The gates open. Knights on proud chargers leap forth. The magic of nature surrounds them." But by the last movement he admitted, "...I've forgotten completely what picture I had in mind."



It doesn't matter. Even without the composer's program, the "Romantic" Symphony conjures up visions of beauty, grandeur, and majesty aplenty for all but the least imaginative listeners. Although Esa-Pekka Salonen's 1998 Sony release with the Los Angeles Philharmonic is perhaps too dependent upon his trying to convey the grandness of the music to lay claim to top honors, one cannot fault him for trying hard in admittedly so grand a work.

Esa-Pekka Salonen

Still, Salonen has some tough competition in this piece. Eugene Jochum (DG or EMI) does a better job conjuring up the mysticism of the nature motif; Otto Klemperer (EMI) holds the structure together better; and Karl Bohm (Decca) is probably best at maintaining the work's forward momentum. Salonen takes the slowest route; at almost seventy minutes long, the music tends to lag, and one wants to give the maestro a little nudge in the behind from time to time. Salonen tries heroically to sustain every note, mark every contrast, and coax the last ounce of splendor from the score, but he tries a little too hard. In the end, I was moved more by what the interpretation could have been than by what it was. Still, Salonen's effort is noble, and it's really hard not like Bruckner's lovely score no matter whose hands it's in.



Sony's sound, recorded at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, Los Angeles, CA in May 1997 is big and full, with an enormous dynamic range. If Sony had made the recording in the really old, analogue days, Salonen's softest passages would have probably sunk beneath a surface of tape hiss. Here, in digital, the contrasts are splendidly dramatic, even if they appear more the work of the audio engineers than the conductor. Overall, too, the sound is a little dark and murky compared to, say, Klemperer (EMI) or Blomstedt (Denon), both of whom open up the stage more and allow us to hear further into the orchestra.



For the Bruckner fan and the Bruckner collector, I can recommend Salonen with little hesitation. For the first-time Bruckner buyer, however, maybe Klemperer, Bohm, or even the old Bruno Walter recording (Sony) would be safer places to start.



JJP



To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below:

Bruckner: Symphony No. 4 "Romantic" (CD review)

Also, Wagner: Lohengrin Prelude. Andris Nelsons, Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra. DG 479 7577.



Begin rant:

I may be the only the person left on the planet who is not 100% enamoured of live recordings. I keep reading reviews of live recorded performances that say how wonderful the sound is, how the audio engineers should be nominated for Grammys, and so forth. Sorry; I don't hear it. Even when a live recording is done well, as this one is with the applause edited out, I often find the microphones too close, the sound too mechanical and flat, and audience presence still too noticeable, especially during quiet moments. Yes, I understand the economic needs for recording live, and I respect a conductor's desire to capture the spontaneity of a live performance; but it doesn't mean I have to like the sound, which in almost every case would have been better if done in a studio.

End rant.



Latvian conductor Andris Nelsons is, as of 2018, the Music Director of the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra, one of the oldest and most prestigious orchestras in the world. In 2017 Maestro Nelsons embarked on a Bruckner symphony cycle with the Gewandhaus players, and the current Fourth Symphony is the third such effort (following the Third and Seventh Symphonies). Critics received his previous releases favorably, and I see no reason why they wouldn't do the same here. It's a mature account of what is possibly Bruckner most-popular music.



Anton Bruckner (1824-1896), Austrian composer and organist, wrote the Symphony No. 4 in E flat major "Romantic" in 1874, revising it several times before his death. (Maestro Nelsons uses the familiar 1878-80 revision edited by Leopold Nowak in 1953). No doubt, audiences like the work's abundance of Romantic, programmatic qualities. Bruckner was a deeply spiritual man, and his symphonies illustrate the point. The composer goes further by telling us what each of the symphony's movements represents, from knights riding out of a medieval castle through the mists of dawn to the sounds of the forest and birds, to a funeral, then a hunt, complete with horn calls, and finally a brilliant culminating summation.

Andris Nelsons

Still, the real question about any new recording is whether the conductor brings to the performance anything new, anything we haven't heard before, anything that might set it apart from the many fine recordings that have come before it. To my mind and ear, we already have fine performances by Otto Klemperer (EMI), Karl Bohm (Decca), Eugen Jochum (DG and EMI), Gunther Wand (RCA), Herbert von Karajan (DG), and Georg Tintner (Naxos), among others. So, does Nelsons compare? Maybe.



In the first movement Bruckner offers us a vision of Nature, and the composer's several scenic landscapes should remind us of how much Bruckner admired Beethoven and Wagner. Here, according to the composer, "...after a full night's sleep the day is announced by the horn." Other authorities have argued that the composer wanted us to see a morning breaking, the mists giving way to dawn around a medieval castle, and an army of knights bursting out from the castle gates in a blaze of glory. Whatever, Nelsons does a good job establishing the atmosphere and maintaining the mystery of the score, accenting the mystical side of the music rather than the purely programmatic.



The second-movement Andante is a serenade, sometimes described as representing a young lad's amorous but ultimately hopeless longings and expressions. Nelsons, however, says that "This movement is like a song or a prayer" and it reveals "a genuine, intimate connection with God." Fair enough. I've always thought it sounded elegiac, halfway between a nocturne and a funeral march, the composer indicating he wanted something between a moderately slow but still comfortably forward pace (Andante quasi Allegretto). Nelsons, in an apparent effort to accommodate his own view of things, adopts a very slow tempo for it, more like an adagio. Where most conductors take about thirteen or fourteen minutes to cover the movement, Nelsons goes over seventeen. The listener may either appreciate the added beauty or find the length interminable. I can't say I preferred it over more traditional readings, but, then, I may simply have to get used to it.



The lively third-movement Scherzo Bruckner teasingly called "a rabbit hunt," and it should build a proper momentum as it goes forward. I thought Nelsons was at his best here. The music rollicks.



The Finale opens with a heroic theme, then works its way into a more idyllic second subject, eventually reworking both themes into a closing statement. This movement begins rather ominously, with dark clouds overhead, leading to a thunderstorm; however, the storm soon breaks and gives way to variations on the symphony's heroic opening music and a summation of all the parts. If you're wondering what it means, not even Bruckner was sure. He said, "...even I myself can't say what I was thinking about at the time."



Nelsons tells us that "The music is like a glimpse of heaven," which may explain why he takes the final movement so deliberately. As with the second movement, the listener may enjoy the conductor's pace or find it too fragmented or sluggish. I would have liked a bit smoother forward progress and a bit more resolute determination.



Along with the symphony is the piece that opens the program, Richard Wagner's Prelude to Act I of Lohengrin, premiered in 1850. Nelsons, of course, wants us to see (hear) for ourselves the influence of Wagner's music on Bruckner, particularly the ethereal, religious elements, so, given his approach to the symphony, it's not a bad way to begin things. He handles it well.



Executive producer Sid McLauchlan and recording producer and engineer Everett Porter recorded the music live at the Gewandhaus Leipzig in May 2017. As I said at the start, one can take or leave a live recording. My own prejudice is to leave it, even when done as well as here. Like most other live recordings, in this one the microphones are a little close, resulting on the positive side in a reasonably detailed response with very wide dynamics and on the negative side a somewhat forward sound picture with an emphasis on the upper midrange and some odd instrumental relationships. Take the opening of the symphony, for instance. The horn solo appears admirably well focused, while one can barely hear the orchestral accompaniment. Otherwise, the sound is fairly warm (if a tad hard, edgy, and pinched in louder passages), ambient, and realistic. Still, it doesn't quite capture the Gewandhaus's characteristically dark, golden glow as well as I've heard it in many studio productions.



JJP



To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below:

Bruckner: Mass in F minor (CD review)

Margaret Price, soprano; Doris Soffel, alto; Peter Straka, tenor; Matthias Holle, bass; Sergiu Celibidache, Munich Philharmonic Orchestra and Chorus. EMI Classics CDC 7243-5-56702-2.

The late Romanian conductor and composer Sergiu Celibidache (1912-1996) must be the least-known famous conductor of the twentieth century. He brought it upon himself: He refused absolutely to record any of his music, believing that sound could only be "lived and experienced in real space." I respect his principles, but as a result he deprived about ninety-nine per cent of the classical music loving world of potentially great performances. So be it. After he passed on, however, his son helped to select a handful of his father's live taped sessions for release. Among the first issues were Celibidache's Bruckner interpretations, for which he was well known. 



Any Bruckner work is characterized by its nobility, its grandeur, and its intense spirituality. No Bruckner offering could be more endowed with these qualities than his Mass in F minor. And these attributes are exactly what Celibidache delivers, using the 1881 Robert Haas edition. In some ways the conductor's approach is similar to his contemporary, Herbert von Karajan. There is always the grand gesture.

Sergiu Celibidache

But I felt a more profound sense of the sublime with this Celibidache recording than I usually get from the more bravura performances of Karajan. Celibidache's timing is that much more sweeping, the hushes more extended, the tempos more expansive. His broad view of things can nowhere be better found than in the big, central "Credo," where we find everything from the quietest whisper of a note to a full, fortissimo chorus, each punctuated with the greatest warmth of expression. 



By the time it's over, one must be in awe of both composer and conductor. But one thing that didn't impress me overmuch was the sound. It is rather antiseptic. There is clarity, to be sure, in this 1990 recording but at the expense of richness and sonority. The upper midrange is bright and often brittle, especially in massed vocal passages. I wouldn't let this deter one from buying the disc, though, if only for the experience of discovering a man so well known and so little heard.



JJP



To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below:

Bruckner: Symphony No. 4 "Romantic" (CD review)

Gunter Wand, Berliner Philharmoniker. RCA 09026 68839-2.



Beethoven, Bruckner, and Brahms. In the years since conductor and composer Gunter Wand (1912-2002) first broke onto the recording scene some twenty years before he made the present album and already then a man advanced in age, he had recorded the three composers I mentioned earlier two or three times apiece. Practice makes perfect, I suppose. In the case of Wand, who was approaching ninety when he made the recording under review, this rendition of Bruckner's Fourth Symphony bears the mark of authority borne of obvious experience. By then, the fellow had been conducting it for over sixty years; he apparently learned something about it along the way. It is, in fact, a totally absorbing and uplifting performance.



Bruckner dubbed the Fourth Symphony "Romantic" because he wanted people to appreciate its connection with nature and its attendant depth of emotion. Later, Bruckner added even more descriptive phrases to help sell the work--"Knights bursting into the open astride proud steeds," that sort of thing--but the appellation "Romantic" is quite enough. The piece is almost entirely suggestive, not literal, anyhow.



Most important, this is the way Wand presents it. His interpretation is very broad, dramatic, and intense, yet it is not without excitement, too, especially in the finale, where it counts. The grand climaxes are filled with an eloquent drive, and the softest passages convey a feeling of deep spirituality. As always, the Berlin Philharmonic play spectacularly.

Gunter Wand

RCA made the recording in the Philharmonie in 1998, the digital sonics typical of RCA's products in the late Nineties: Velvety smooth, with very wide dynamics and excellent mid bass. There is sparse deep bass, however; not much front-to-back imaging; some occasional spotlighting of individual instruments; and at times a highlighting of whole orchestral sections.



RCA captured the performance live, as I've said, which was the way Wand preferred it for all of the last recordings he made, affording him, I assume, greater spontaneity despite intermittent audience noise. For the most part the recording is reasonably quiet, except during softer moments, between movements, and for a single obtrusive cough about a quarter of the way into the slow second movement. It caught me so off guard I thought it was a sound outside my house; I had to play it back several times to confirm its existence on the disc and not in my yard. Otherwise, the recording carries the weight necessary to complement the power of Wand's realization.



Compared to the three older classics I had on hand at the time--Klemperer (EMI), Jochum (DG), and Bohm (Decca)--Wand fits right in. His performance has the same feeling of rightness, although it is perhaps closer to Bohm than the other two. Klemperer is still the more magisterial and architecturally sound, and Jochum the more mysterious. But Bohm and Wand take us to equally lofty heights without being quite so idiosyncratic.



Wand's is certainly among the best recordings one can buy of Bruckner's most popular symphony, and if you like the conductor's style and can tolerate the minor inconveniences of the live sound, it's something to consider.



JJP



To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below:

Bruckner: Symphony No. 4 "Romantic" (CD review)

Karl Bohm, Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra. Decca 289 466 374-2.



Everybody else was doing it in the late 90's; why not Decca? (You remember that in America Decca released their recordings under the "London" label for many years because there was already an American Decca. Then Universal bought both Decca companies so there was no more need for the "London" designation. It saved the world a lot of confusion.) Anyway, other labels were issuing newly remastered old classics in excellent sound--Mercury "Living Presence," RCA "Living Stereo," DG "Originals," EMI "Great Recordings of the Century," etc. So Decca called their line of reissues the "Legends" series, and among their first releases was Karl Bohm's fine, 1973 recording of Bruckner's Fourth Symphony. It made a good choice for inclusion in Decca's first batch of goodies.



Bohm's interpretation ranks high on my own list of all-time favorite Bruckner Fourths. I would still consider Otto Klemperer's performance (EMI) foremost for its greater majesty and stronger symphonic weight and structure, and maybe Eugen Jochum's older rendering (DG) next in line for its greater mystery and atmosphere, in spite of its thinner, noisier sound. But there is no denying Bohm's complete mastery of the score. The whole thing moves implacably forward with strength, grace, and style. In fact, the second movement Andante is perhaps more beautiful under Bohm than under any other conductor. Needless to say, the Vienna Philharmonic play exquisitely.

Karl Bohm

I think many people greatly underrated Bohm as a conductor, often thinking of him as merely a conservative "kapplemeister." Maybe he was sometimes, but not always. Here, there are no fussy heroics, true, just a simple distillation of the music. The work unfolds at its own pace and is all the more eloquent for it.



Decca's 24-bit remastering uses a 96k Hz sampling rate and some occasional touching up as the occasion demands. The result really is a superior end result (if not quite in the audiophile class, at least better than Decca's previous CD mastering of the recording). I had a friend over listening to this newer remastering side-by-side with Decca's 1992 ADRM mastering, simultaneously using two identical-sounding CD players. Initially, I did the switching and let him sit in the primary listening position. Then we exchanged places and opinions. He said exactly what I was thinking, so I'll use his words. The new version sounded "bigger," "smoother," "warmer," "fuller," "richer," and "more detailed." The older mastering sounded "harder," "harsher," and "brighter."



However, I continue to find the sonics a little less than perfect. There remains a metallic edge that the new processing has reduced but not removed. Nevertheless, I can confidently recommend the disc, and I know it will provide hours of pleasurable listening.



Incidentally, Decca came up with two clever packaging ideas here: First, they gave the disc itself the appearance of an open-reel tape. Second, they replicated the original cover art on the back of the booklet insert. By simply reversing the booklet one can have either the new cover illustration or the old. It's distinctive. And, incidentally again, a few years after this "Legends" release, Decca rereleased the same 96k/24-bit remastered recording in their "Originals" lineup. It's hard to know the players without a scorecard these days.



JJP



To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below:

Bruckner: Symphony No. 5 (SACD review)

Lance Friedel, London Symphony Orchestra. MSR Classics MS 1600.



I've said this before, but it bears repeating: listening to a Bruckner symphony can take patience. A lot of this has to do with the fact that Austrian organist and composer Anton Bruckner (1824-1896) wrote long, often massive symphonies. His musical output came in the middle of the nineteenth century, a little after Beethoven's time and overlapping early Mahler. We see Bruckner building on the longer works of Beethoven, especially the Ninth Symphony, and the more epic proportions of Wagner. Later, we would see Mahler adopting some of Bruckner's lengthier concepts.



And there's another part of the equation: Beyond hewing to the conventional four-movement structures of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, Bruckner ventured into new harmonic, even dissonant styles. There are times when the listener must sit and wait almost in vain for a major thematic element to present itself, and then wait even longer for Bruckner to develop it. Nevertheless, when performed by the right people, Bruckner's music can be quite satisfying, reaching heights of spiritual ecstasy seldom attempted by other composers. Among the conductors who have brought me a personal measure of joy with their Bruckner recordings are Eugen Jochum, Otto Klemperer, Herbert von Karajan, Karl Bohm, Bruno Walter, Gunter Wand, Herbert Blomstedt, Bernard Haitink, and Sir Roger Norrington, among others.



Enter Lance Friedel. The first and only other time I had heard a recording by Maestro Friedel was on an album entitled Great Comedy Overtures, which I quite liked. While Friedel might not have been facing such demanding material in the overtures as he is on the present disc, he invested a good deal of enthusiasm in the project and offered up a frothy collection of lightweight tunes.



Here, Maestro Friedel tackles the formidable Symphony No. 5, which Bruckner wrote between 1875 and 1876, but which he never heard performed in his lifetime by an orchestra. (A non-authenticated version premiered in 1894, but Bruckner was too ill to attend.) The work didn't even get a complete commercial recording until 1937, when Karl Bohm did it with the Dresden Staatskapelle. All of this may seem surprising when you consider that the Fifth followed upon the success of his Fourth Symphony, but it's possible the composer never felt satisfied with the Fifth, leaving it uncompleted at his death. Various musical scholars edited it later, with Maestro Friedel using the version by Leopold Nowak from 1951. As time went on, people came to know the piece as the "Tragic," "Church of Faith," or the "Pizzicato" symphony.

Lance Friedel

Anyway, the work begins with a very slow, very soft introduction, so soft that on the present recording you may wonder when it's ever going to begin. But the slow pizzicato strings soon give way to an abrupt eruption fortissimo and then on through a series of harmonious passages to a heady Allegro, all of which Friedel handles smoothly, gracefully, and without undue fuss. In fact, this is among the more-lyrical interpretations you'll find, even though Friedel retains the music's stately, august outlines and ends the segment most nobly. What's more, the London Symphony is up to its usual high standards, even if they don't quite sound as lush or rich as the Berlin Philharmonic under Karajan.



Next, we have an Adagio: Sehr langsam, or a slow movement Bruckner expects the performers to take "very slowly," indeed. Interestingly, Bruckner uses the same basic themes for both the slow movement and the third-movement Scherzo, as well as alternating themes throughout the movement, and the juxtapositions make a fascinating experience, particularly as Friedel manages them. The following Scherzo itself moves along at a steadily contrasting pace under his direction, the tempos continually changing but effortlessly so. I have no doubt this section of the symphony must have inspired something in Mahler.



Like the first movement, Bruckner's finale begins slowly and softly, again with pizzicato strings soon permitting a moderate Allegro to develop. This has always been my favorite part of the symphony, and Maestro Friedel does it justice. While it dances and sparkles under Friedel's guidance on the one hand, it retains its regal grandeur throughout.



Even though the Fifth is a long symphony (Bruckner's second longest), Friedel's brisk but pleasurable handling of things brings it in at a little over seventy-three minutes, one of the quickest I've heard. Yet it never sounds particularly rushed or hurried. Although it may not convey all the spacious majesty of Klemperer's interpretation; the burnished glow of Karajan's realization; the mystery and atmosphere of Walter's, Wand's, or Blomstedt's versions; or the clean, direct lines of Haitink's reading, there is a fine sense of urgency about Friedel's account, captured in cogent, insistent, well-controlled rhythms and dynamics. It is definitely a disc I'll be returning to from time to time and one well worth a Bruckner fan's consideration.



Producer Tim Handley and engineer Phil Rowlands recorded the album at All Hallows Church, Gospel Oak, London in January 2014. They engineered it for hybrid SACD/CD playback, so one can listen to it in two-channel stereo or multichannel using an SACD player or two-channel stereo using a regular CD player. I listened in the SACD 2-channel mode.



My only quibble with the sound is minor: it's that occasionally it can appear a touch hard or edgy in the upper midrange. That said, it's mostly exemplary, with good detail, just the right amount of lower midrange warm, a decent but not over-pronounced stereo spread, a sweet hall ambience, a fine depth of image, respectably strong impact, and a healthy degree of overall transparency. It's among the better-recorded Bruckner Fifths I've heard.



JJP



To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click on the forward arrow: