November 07, 2024

(++++) WHEN 9 = 11 = 18

Bruckner: The Complete Symphonies (Nos. 00, 0, 1-9), in 18 versions. Bruckner Orchester Linz and ORF Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra conducted by Markus Poschner. Naxos. $99.99 (18 CDs).

     One of the most important releases from anyone, on any label, in this bicentennial year of Bruckner’s birth, the new and hyper-complete version of his symphonies directed by Markus Poschner is the second groundbreaking and tremendously significant Bruckner release from Naxos – and deserves to be as celebrated as the first. That first one, presented more than 20 years ago within the label’s excellent “White Box” series, featured Georg Tintner conducting the Royal Scottish National Orchestra, National Symphony Orchestra of Ireland, and New Zealand Symphony Orchestra in Bruckner’s 11 symphonies, including rarely heard or never-heard-before recordings of symphonies’ first versions and of the “Study” symphony sometimes called No. “00.” Although the orchestras did not have an ideal or especially idiomatic sound for Bruckner and some of Tintner’s tempo and repeat decisions were rather questionable, the recording deserved to be celebrated – and still does – for the care and excellence with which Tintner (1917-1999) approached the music and the consistency of his attentive handling of its complexities in performances dating to 1995-1998. This set remains one of Tintner’s great accomplishments – and one of Naxos’ as well.

     The new Poschner compilation, collecting recordings made from 2018 to early 2024 and originally released in rather haphazard fashion on the Capriccio label, is an equally major accomplishment and incorporates considerable historical findings and performance analyses and discoveries from the last 25 years. Foundational to everything is the decision to offer the 11 symphonies in 18 versions. The exact number of versions of Bruckner’s symphonies is such a longtime preoccupation that entire academic/musicological careers can be and have been founded on the arguments back and forth. The basis of this particular decision-making is the would-be-definitive New Anton Bruckner Complete Edition from the Austrian National Library, which omits versions considered to be “interim” and regards as authentic only symphonies that were performed or printed – although this too is a judgment call, since minor corrections and revisions are deemed immaterial. From this perspective, there is only one version of Nos. “00” and “0” and only one of Nos. 5, 6, 7 and 9. There are two versions of Nos. 1, 2 and 8 and three of No. 3. And No. 4 is a special case, with three complete versions plus an additional, fully formed finale known as “Country Fair” that was never completely attached to any of them. Also here are an 1865 Scherzo originally intended for the first version of Symphony No. 1 but never included in it, and an interim Adagio for No. 3 that, again, never made its way into any complete version of that symphony.

     Most of these complexities of versions (and specific editions used for these recordings) were nicely boiled down to a two-page table accompanying each of the Capriccio releases but unfortunately omitted from the 176-page booklet included with the Naxos set. This is one of several small but annoying instances of packaging sloppiness in an otherwise excellent set – for instance, the first-movement designation for Symphony No. 6 is incorrectly given as Maestoso rather than Majestoso, and the total timing for CD #11 is given as 65:53, identical to that of #10, when in fact #11 runs more than 83 minutes. It should also be pointed out that some elements of the alternative versions heard here are more of academic interest than of significance to comparatively casual listeners. On the other hand, in many cases the symphonies presented here in more than one version genuinely sound like different works, with orchestrations, movement tempos, structural elements and more distinguishing them from each other. The fact that this set is interpreted by a single highly skilled and knowledgeable conductor, with the music played by two orchestras that have longstanding expertise in Bruckner performance and the sort of warm sound and sectional balance that excellent Bruckner requires, makes the release all the more compelling. Poschner knows Bruckner inside-out and has a firm grasp not only of the “Bruckner sound” but also of the ways in which Bruckner’s symphonies strongly reflect some of their influences, notably those of Wagner (whom Bruckner idolized), Beethoven (three Bruckner symphonies are in D minor, the key of Beethoven’s Ninth), and Schubert (whose lyricism and approaches to transitions within movements are everywhere apparent). In every version of every symphony, Poschner offers a carefully considered performance, with a strong emphasis on preserving and elucidating Bruckner’s musical architecture, and with well-chosen tempos that, although generally on the somewhat fast side, do not attempt to make statements in and of themselves by being either exceptionally expansive (like those favored by Rémy Ballot) or unusually fleet-footed (the approach of Mario Venzago). Nothing is ever misplaced here: Poschner’s familiarity with the underpinnings of Bruckner’s style lets him build an imposing edifice not only of entire symphonies but also of specific elements within them, such as the Adagio movements of No. 7 and No. 8 (both versions), as well as the concluding Adagio. Langsam, feierlich of No. 9.

     The conclusion of No. 9 does, however, point to one of several elements in this important release that are musically problematic. Bruckner finished most of the intended finale of No. 9, and that last movement has been completed in numerous ways – at least 11 of them, according to the extensive booklet notes by Yale School of Music professor emeritus Paul Hawkshaw (notes that are, unfortunately, quite repetitious, since they are simply reprinted verbatim from the original separate, standalone releases of individual symphonies). Although the producers of this set may not have wanted to show favoritism to any of the completions, the edition is too important to have omitted the music of the planned finale altogether. One solution could have been a supplementary disc including two or even three alternative completions. Another – used cleverly decades ago by Max Goberman in his recording of Schubert’s “Unfinished” Symphony No. 8 – would have been to offer, as an appendix, only the music that Bruckner definitely wrote and completed, as the Schubert recording included nine orchestrated bars of Schubert’s planned third movement plus a further fragment existing only as a piano draft and therefore performed on piano. The unwillingness to try to accommodate any of Bruckner’s very clear (and almost complete) plans for the finale of his Symphony No. 9 is a weakness in what is otherwise a very strong set.

     There are also some odd discrepancies between what the Hawkshaw narrative about the symphonies asserts and what the performances by Poschner demonstrate. Hawkshaw says Symphony No. 3, in its first version, “is Bruckner’s longest,” but Poschner goes through it in just over 57 minutes, a time frame far shorter than Tintner’s (which runs 77 minutes) and shorter than Poschner’s readings of No. 4 (first and third versions), No. 5, No. 7, and No. 8 (both versions). Hawkshaw notes that the interim Adagio of No. 3 “is eleven bars longer than the slow movement in the version of 1873,” but in Poschner’s recordings the movements are within 16 seconds of each other. And Hawkshaw says the third movement of Symphony No. 6 “is the shortest Scherzo/Trio of all the Bruckner symphonies,” but in these performances it is longer than the comparable movements of Nos. “00,” “0,” 1 (first version), 2 (both versions), and 3 (all three versions). All this is, of course, nitpicking, and some of it may be due to different definitions (a movement may be “longer” in bar count but shorter in performance time, for example). But it is precisely because this is so exceptionally important a release, containing such convincing performances, that small matters like these stand out as irritants.

     None of the minor issues of narrative and packaging detracts one iota from the overall quality of Poschner’s interpretations – or, for that matter, from the quality of the recorded sound, which is rich and full and altogether apt for the clarity-within-heft approach that Poschner takes to the symphonies. The old canard that Bruckner did not so much write nine symphonies as write the same symphony nine times still shows up occasionally (perhaps now modified to “11” rather than “nine”), and interestingly, Poschner neatly highlights ways in which all (or at least most of) the symphonies do have distinct similarities, through rhythmic touches, specific thematic approaches, even an orchestral sound surely influenced by the composer’s mastery of the organ (although they are certainly not “translations” of some sort from organ to large-scale ensemble). The symphonies exist on a continuum of which Poschner is clearly aware, and he manages to elucidate, strictly musically, many ways in which the germs of “Brucknerian” symphonic style already existed in Symphony No. 1 (written before No. “0”) although they only became salient characteristics as the composer gained self-confidence in symphonic form over the years (No. “00,” the earliest of all, has only a few touches that would recur in later works).

     There are many fine recorded versions of Bruckner’s symphonies now available, and numerous excellent complete or almost-complete Bruckner cycles. No single set of interpretations, Poschner’s or anyone else’s, can really be called the “best,” much less definitive: Bruckner’s music is so rich and admits of so many approaches and viewpoints that his symphonies, like Beethoven’s, reveal something new in each interpretation/reinterpretation. However, as with the Beethoven symphonies, listeners will very likely want a single foundational recording that stands as a kind of touchstone of the music, to which other performances can be added from time to time in order to broaden the experience of the works. The Tintner cycle has served as just such a central experience of Bruckner’s symphonies for more than two decades. It still can – but now, with this Poschner set, an even more extensive Bruckner experience is readily available, with even better orchestral playing and recorded sound, and with the bonus of multiple distinct and distinctive versions of several of these endlessly fascinating and deeply meaningful symphonies.

(+++) VERSIONS OF THE VOICE

Elgar: Part-Songs. Proteus Ensemble conducted by Stephen Shellard. AVIE. $19.99.

Pierre-Max Dubois: Songs. Élise DesChamps, mezzo-soprano; Alan Huckleberry, piano. MSR Classics. $14.95.

Adam Mirza: Reading (A Mish-Mash) For a Man/I Will Never; Triangles; Growth; QXTR; Cracks; Shared; Time Patterns. New Focus Recordings. $16.99.

     Written over a period of 40 years, 1889-1929, the secular, unaccompanied part-songs by Edward Elgar on a new AVIE disc have consistent smoothness and a mellow quality that fits the eight-voice Proteus Ensemble very well. And, in turn, these singers (Vicki Field and Alison Shone, sopranos; Sebastian Field and David Whitworth, altos; Nick Drew and Ashley Turnell, tenors; Christopher Monk and Steve Grice, basses) fit their voices into a blend of continuous beauty that effectively brings forth Elgar’s stylistic elegance and the care with which he draws attention to the songs’ words and underlines their meanings. There is a level of consistency, which is to same sameness, in Elgar’s part-song writing, which means that the sequence of songs is largely immaterial stylistically and they can be placed in any order at the whim of a chorus and conductor. This 17-song collection is thus arranged as a kind of personalized statement by Stephen Shellard and his ensemble, with, for example, the early Op. 18 songs Love (words by Arthur Maquarie) and O happy eyes (words by Elgar’s wife, C. Alice Elgar) placed, respectively, 12th and last, while the late Good Morrow (words by George Gascoigne) – a musical get-well wish for the then-ailing King George V – appears midway through the program. Elgar drew on a wide variety of sources for song lyrics, then homogenized the sound of the resulting works in such a way that the words always come through clearly and the vocal balance is always carefully managed – an ideal arrangement for the Proteus Ensemble, which blends its four vocal ranges with consummate skill. The works of some well-known poets inspired a few of these songs: Byron (Deep in my soul), Shelley (O wild West Wind!), Longfellow (As torrents in summer), Tennyson (There is sweet music), and Ben Jonson (I sing the birth). But Elgar was equally moved by translations, by Rosa Newmarch, of Russian poetry by Nikolai Minsky and Apollon Myakov – resulting in the lovely settings Serenade, Death on the Hills, and Love’s Tempest. It is worth pointing out that Elgar wrote with a larger chorus in mind than the eight-member ensemble heard here, and greater vocal forces are more in line with his usual musical approach. But the small-group presentation by the Proteus Ensemble lends these miniatures a kind of direct and personal charm that would be considerably less present in a larger choral setting. It is also worth mentioning an occasional misstep in this presentation, such as the pronunciation of “wind” with a short “i” rather than a long one at the start of the Shelley-based song, whose final two lines clearly rhyme “wind” with “behind.” These quibbles, however, have little bearing on the overall enjoyability of this very nicely presented vocal recital, which shines a light on some of Elgar’s less-known works and could well inspire other choruses to consider including some of these part-songs in their own repertoire.

     Even less familiar than the Elgar works are the songs of Pierre-Max Dubois (1930-1995), which are presented as a complete set of world première recordings by mezzo-soprano Élise DesChamps and pianist Alan Huckleberry on an MSR Classics CD. Dubois wrote a total of five song cycles. The earliest, Étoiles Brûlées, includes five songs to words by Maurice Fombeure and dates to 1959. It was followed by Trois Chansons (to anonymous lyrics) and Le Zodiaque (words by José Bruyr), respectively sets of three and 12, in 1962; Six Chansons (words by Phillippe Soupault) in 1963; and Cinq Poèmes Chantés (words by Jean Tardieu) in 1969. Dubois, best known for his works for saxophone and other woodwinds, is adept at setting song lyrics clearly and understandably, and if some of his piano accompaniments tend to the repetitive, his verbal arrangements contain pleasant surprises here and there. The song-cycle sequence is not chronological on this CD, but each grouping has elements of particular effectiveness. Thus, in Six Chansons, the fourth and shortest song, Pour le mauvais jours, opens with nice bounce and soon moves from singing to an emphatic speaking portion, while the concluding Monsieur Pépinet nicely balances consonance and dissonance and has a few spoken words of its own. In Le Zodiaque, highlights include the determined pacing illustrated by the piano in Le Lion, the well-thought-out musical portrayal of water in Les Poissons, and the effective up-and-down vocal contrasts in Les Gémeaux. In Trois Chansons, the contrast between delicacy and seriousness in Ne dérangez pas tout le monde is particularly well-handled. In Étoiles Brûlées, the delicate sadness of Chanson de la rose is attractive, and the very spare accompaniment of Vielles chansons is notable for creating a comparatively dark mood. And in Cinq Poèmes Chantés, the march rhythm of Rengaine à pleurer comes across well, the percussive elements of Rengaine pour piano méchanique are well-expressed, and the pointed dissonances in the piano contrast well with vocal elements sung unaccompanied in Contre-point-du-jour. This is scarcely a disc that will reach out to a wide audience, but it is one that is quite well-performed and that provides listeners interested in 20th-century French compositions – or specifically in the works of Dubois – with a fine opportunity to explore some little-known vocal music that is well-made and contains a number of elements that are well worth hearing.

     A strong interest avant-garde music-making in the 21st century is de rigueur for appreciation of the works of Adam Mirza on a New Focus Recordings release featuring pieces written between 2006 and 2022. Mirza is avowedly devoted to experimental music, electronic and otherwise, as his handling of vocal material makes abundantly clear. The deliberately peculiarly titled Reading: (A Mish-Mash) For a Man/I Will Never includes a vocal portion of, yes, reading, with wide-ranging exclamatory bits and pieces of musical notes tossed about by members of the no-capital-letters ensemble loadbang (trumpet, trombone, bass clarinet, and baritone voice). The piece might make an interesting theatrical exercise – perhaps the spoken words could be projected on a screen as the various parts proceed at their different speeds – but as a recording, it simply seems discordant and disconnected (which, of course, may be part of its point). The six remaining works here, all with much shorter if not inherently more intelligible titles, go beyond the vocal realm entirely. Triangles (played by Alice Teyssier on flute, Josh Modney on violin, and Cory Smythe on piano) is the longest piece on the CD, lasting nearly 13 minutes, and focuses on individuation of the instruments rather than any ensemble playing that might make this seem like a more-conventional trio. Growth is for clarinet, violin, cello, piano and electronics and is performed by a group calling itself Unheard-of/Ensemble. An early clarinet exclamation bears a passing resemblance to something from Gershwin’s An American in Paris, which may even be intentional, since the piece is intended as a collage expressing the spirit of Atlanta, where Mirza grew up. There are real-world sounds such as airplane noise throughout, often electronically modified, and here as in other works for multiple players, Mirza seems mainly interested in keeping the performers separate and having them mingle rarely, if at all. QXTR is a brief string quartet (played by the Mivos Quartet) in which the musicians endeavor with some success to sound like electronics rather than performers on acoustic instruments. Cracks uses two players (the Bent Frequency Duo Project) in what is intended as stereo (antiphonal) positioning for theatrical purposes, with the version heard here focusing on wind and percussion exclamations that remain mostly separate – as is clearly common in Mirza’s music – while occasionally coming together long enough to clash. Shared for string trio (the Amorsima Trio) features a wide variety of performance techniques with essentially no musical content, as if the players’ objective is to show the ways in which they can perform on their instruments – whose sound is continually pushed beyond the norm – while not actually engaging, singly or together, in the presentation of any organized aural material at all. And Time Patterns for solo violin (Olivia de Prato), which concludes the disc, takes a similar approach to a single stringed instrument: there are skitterings and stutters, martellato and legato elements, creation of extreme notes designed to sound electronic, and other characteristics that Mirza likes to bring forward as if to indicate that musique concrète is not only alive and well but also omnipresent. Mirza’s emphatic devotion to avant-garde sounds and to assertion of non-melodic, non-rhythmic aural exclamations by all instruments makes this disc strictly an offering for the like-minded and for those interested in sonic production, by voices and instruments alike, that is independent of the usual forms of engagement and continuity with which composers have traditionally sought  to reach out to audiences.