Brahms: Symphonies Nos. 1-4.
Chamber Orchestra of Europe conducted by Paavo Berglund. Ondine. $16.99 (3
CDs).
Bruckner: Symphonies Nos. 3, 4, 7
and 8. Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, Wiener Philharmoniker and Berliner
Philharmoniker conducted by Nikolaus Harnoncourt. Teldec. $29.99 (4 CDs).
Despite critic Eduard
Hanslick’s persistent denigration of Bruckner’s symphonies in comparison to
those of Brahms, there are actually many ways in which the symphonies of these
composers are similar, not superficially but harmonically and even structurally.
However, these two fine sets of live performances, each containing four
symphonies, highlight the works’ differences in some exceptionally striking
ways. Paavo Berglund (1929-2012) here commands only a 50-piece orchestra, far
smaller than most of those playing Brahms nowadays and, indeed, much smaller
than most (although not all) that played Brahms in the composer’s own time. Brahms’
symphonies are robust, even heavy – capable of sounding muddy and turgid, but
monumental and elegant at their best. They are scarcely candidates for
lightness and transparency, but hearing them in that mode is a fascinating
listening experience. The middle voices, which get short shrift most of the
time in these works simply because it is difficult to bring them out without
mis-balancing the orchestra, peek through Berglund’s performances again and
again with seeming effortlessness. Timpani resound and punctuate the music
without having to be struck with undue force. Woodwinds do not seem to be
straining to be heard through massed strings. The Chamber Orchestra of Europe
actually sounds relaxed in these performances: no section appears to be pushing
to make itself stand out above the others. Berglund paces the symphonies well,
and once the initial oddity of lighter-sounding-than-usual Brahms wears off,
what emerges are very well-constructed performances that date to 2000 and still
sound very good indeed.
This is not to say that
Brahmsian grandeur is always unmissed. The
second movement of No. 1 has a lovely, yearning quality made more poignant by
the small string section, and the violin solo comes through absolutely
beautifully; but the finale’s opening minutes are less fraught and mysterious
than they can be (although the pizzicato
passages come through with exceptional clarity), so when the horns “clear the
air,” there is less contrast than needed to be fully effective, and the main
theme simply sounds thin. The finale is simply not as impressive as usual here.
In No. 2, the first movement lacks the broad warmth that a larger string
section would provide, but still sounds quite lovely. The central section of
the third movement works particularly well with the reduced orchestra. And the
finale, interestingly, has a very full sound – the orchestra scarcely seems
reduced in size at all. No. 3 has the warmest sound in the symphonies, so the
transparent texture of the opening is quite surprising; but it soon proves very
satisfying, providing structural clarity and a welcome sense of openness
through the first two movements. The third and fourth movements do sound thin,
however, with the gorgeous strings of the finale almost too chamber-music-like
in feeling to be fully effective. The ending is evanescent rather than calming
after turbulence – a justifiable interpretation, but one that takes some
getting used to. In Symphony No. 4, which in many ways is the grandest of the
set, the reduced orchestra proves surprisingly advantageous, helping bring out
the work’s ties to Bach and the Baroque era. The clarity of lines in the first
movement comes through very well indeed, and the sectional balance in the
second movement is unusually clear. The third movement, its style unique in
Brahms’ symphonies, has real flair here, and the finale is quite remarkable:
clean, clear and beautifully balanced. In fact, the Fourth is the most
successful symphony in this release, and fully justifies the idea of performing
Brahms’ symphonies with a much smaller orchestra than is the norm.
A few conductors, notably
Mario Venzago, have also tried the reduced-orchestra approach in the music of
Bruckner, but most continue to seek the biggest possible sound for Bruckner’s
music, and there is no sound bigger than that of three of the world’s best
orchestras: the Royal Concertgebouw and the Vienna and Berlin Philharmonics.
One of the great pleasure of Nicholas Harnoncourt’s performances of Bruckner’s
Third, Fourth, Seventh and Eighth Symphonies is the chance to hear all these
superb ensembles under the same conductor, each orchestra with its own
marvelous massed and burnished sound but each sounding quite different from the
others. The recordings date to different years – No. 3 to 1995, No. 4 to 1998,
No. 7 to 1999 and No. 8 to 2001 – but that is not why the orchestras sound
different. It is hard to realize at a time when so many orchestras, especially
in the United States, seem actively to seek a homogenized sound that, however
good, is largely indistinguishable from the equally good sound of other
orchestras, but the top European orchestras still cherish their individuality
and use differing sonic production as a way of keeping their performances
distinctive. Hearing these three marvelously full-throated orchestras in
Bruckner’s music is a pleasure of the first degree. These are big performances, fully in the spirit of
Bruckner turning the orchestra into a sort of super-organ – although that
concept is by no means always accepted these days. In fact, these performances
are somewhat on the old-fashioned side, with Harnoncourt emphasizing the massive
sonorities that these orchestras can produce and positioning Bruckner’s music as
a sort of grand sonic cathedral. In three of the four performances, this works
extremely well. No. 3 (heard here in the 1877 edition) has a very Wagnerian
sound even though the “Wagner Symphony” does not, in this version, contain all
the operatic quotations that Bruckner originally included. The work builds and
builds again, becoming an imposing edifice that strives ever-higher until its
culmination in a finale of rare power and tremendous scope. No. 4 – which,
along with No. 3, is played by the Concertgebouw Orchestra – is equally
impressive. Heard in its usual version (1878/80), it is flowing, warm and
involving, its beauties more relaxed than those of No. 3. The Concertgebouw’s
exceptionally warm strings and beautifully balanced sections produce an elegantly
emotive performance that builds effectively while letting the symphony’s
manifest beauties come through quite clearly.
The sound is quite different
for Bruckner’s Seventh as played by the Vienna Philharmonic. This remains, as
it has been for many decades if not longer, an astonishing orchestra, no
section inferior to any other, all constantly playing at the top of their game
and all melding into a smooth, gorgeous and unforgettable sound immediately
recognizable as Viennese. The strings are as smooth as butter but never
cloying, their sound washing over listeners in great waves of beauty punctuated
by equally fine and equally well-modulated contributions from winds, brass and
percussion. The Seventh is one of only
two Bruckner symphonies to exist in a single edition (the Sixth is the other),
so all orchestras play the same music, which means that the Vienna
Philharmonic’s clear superiority in sound and in communicating the “Bruckner
experience” is due to the orchestra’s intrinsic skill rather than to the circumstance
of presenting a better or worse edition of the music. The pacing here is
excellent, the sound unexcelled, and simply sitting back and letting Bruckner’s
Seventh wash over you as thematic group follows thematic group and beauty
follows beauty is a splendid experience. The sole somewhat-disappointing
performance in Harnoncourt’s set is of Bruckner’s Eighth, heard here in the
1892 edition (not 1888 or 1890). The edition itself is not the best, and the
playing of the Berlin Philharmonic – whose brass section is unexcelled for
warmth and perfect unison – is certainly not a problem. But Harnoncourt seems
to lose his way in this very expansive symphony. There is a lack of rhythmic
precision in the first movement; the Adagio feels draggy, although it is taken
at a reasonable tempo; and the finale does not come across as a capstone – it
drifts and nearly comes apart into sections before Harnoncourt finally pulls
everything together in the coda. This four-CD set is nevertheless highly
impressive, and the chance to hear such outstanding orchestras – and such large
ones – performing Bruckner is every bit as thrilling and fascinating as the
opportunity to experience Brahms played by a much smaller ensemble than is
customarily heard in his symphonies.
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