Elmer Bernstein - Movie Themes, Mood Music & More 1952-62 - Elmer Bernstein was a composer and conductor who became renowned for his work in films and TV, writing, scoring and recording some of the most renowned and recognisable themes in in Hollywood history. He is not related to the renowned composer of stage musicals Leonard Bernstein. Born in 1922, he served in the USAF in WWII, working in Armed Forces Radio, and came to the fore in the early 1950s when he started writing for movies. This 44-track 2-CD collection primarily features soundtrack and commercial recordings of themes and other music written for films and albums during the first decade of his career. In addition, it includes selected titles from his albums "Blues And Brass" for Decca and "Movie & TV Themes" on the Choreo label. It includes "The Man With the Golden Arm", "Staccato's Theme", "The Magnificent Seven", and "Walk On The Wild Side", plus themes from "The Ten Commandments", "The Comancheros", "To Kill A Mockingbird" and more. Although he composed for many different genres of film, his style was very distinctive, characterised by dramatic and atmospheric melodies and arrangements that invariably conjured up the mood and imagery of the subject. Comprising a selection of works from his early career, this collection offers an entertaining and evocative showcase for that style.

This release combines a pair of Beethoven performances by conductor Leonard Bernstein, in his prime, with the New York Philharmonic; the Symphony No. 5 in C minor, Op. 67, was recorded in 1961, and the Symphony No. 7 in A major, Op. 92, in 1958. Both have been digitally remastered, and the earlier recording actually comes out a bit better; by 1961 Columbia's engineers had figured out how to use the backdrop of LP sound to accent orchestral strings, an effect difficult to reproduce on CD. Charismatic, gifted, and genre-crossing, Bernstein was on top of the American musical world during this period, and these recordings remained strong sellers for some years. Hearing them half a century on reminds listeners (or apprises them anew) of several things. The first is that the New York Philharmonic, though certainly more than competent, did not have a trademark strength like its chief competitors in Philadelphia, Cleveland, Chicago, and Boston. You hope for brilliance that is not there. But you're also reminded that Bernstein was a subtler conductor than he is sometimes given credit for being. His histrionic style on the podium belied a well-considered, detailed approach to these works, for which he was confronted by decades (or more) of established tradition. The Symphony No. 5 is broad rather than exceptionally violent, with a lovely free space for the oboe cadenza in the first movement; Bernstein has it expand beyond its structural significance into a moment of sudden and profound personal reflection in the midst of societal tumult. In the Symphony No. 7 Bernstein is deliberate and persistent in the first movement's slow introduction and never really turns up the voltage until the finale, which thus acquires its proper bacchanalian mood. As with other albums in this Sony reissue series, the CD version includes both photographic reproductions of the original artwork and booklet reprints of the jacket text, with added French and German translations.

-- James Manheim, AllMusic.com

...[I]n such a spirited reading [as this performance of the Prokofiev First] the parallels between the Prokofiev and the Bizet [Symphony in C] are very much highlighted: the 'classical' symphonies of Prokofiev's title—those, presumably, of Haydn and Mozart — seem comparatively remote. But for all their brilliance elsewhere the players manage to be sinuously winning enough in the Symphony's slow movement... [a performance] of the very first class.

-- Gramophone [5/1969, reviewing an LP release of the First Symphony]

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Bernstein gives a highly romantic version of the first movement... [I]t could hardly be better done... The playing throughout the whole symphony is in the highest class and the recording is of the same quality.

-- Gramophone [10/1967, reviewing the original LP release of the Fifth Symphony]

At first glance, it may seem odd to couple Mahler's most exalted work with one that ranks among his most personal and tragic. Sony could have issued the symphony alone on a single disc, but chose not to for a very good reason: This is an excellent Kindertonlieder with both Lenny and Janet Baker at their absolute best. Dame Janet recorded this work earlier with Barbirolli, but here she's far more detailed in her phrasing and declamation of the text. Bernstein is also at his best - underling all of the dark, grim noises in the lower registers of the orchestra. As for the symphony, this was always considered a great performance, but had been criticized for its less than stellar sonic qualities at the climaxes (read: distortion). Sony has gone a long way towards remedying things by transferring the work at a lower level. As a result, the huge endings for both Parts I and II have much greater bloom and expanse than previously. Although Bernstein's vocalists are not as great as those in the Solti recording on an individual basis, they do work better as an ensemble -- witness the passage for the three penitent women in Part II. This is a triumph for all concerned. --Barry Guerrero, ClassicsToday.com

...I ought to mention the various overtures which serve as makeweights—intensely dramatic recreations these, of which The Consecration of the House struck me as particularly fine despite the constricted sonics. It comes with Stern's now classic Beethoven Violin Concerto, a warm, confident, and (on Bernstein's part) sometimes bluff rendition. There is some rapt playing from a soloist then in his prime, an intriguing textual oddity in the coda of the first movement (the familiar 'unauthentic' cello line is similarly absent from Kyung Wha Chung's recent EMI account) and some mildly distracting tape hiss (suppressed during the cadenzas where the image shifts as if Stern has been transported to another studio).

-- Gramophone [11/1992]

Sibelius's lines flow in a rich, warm glow of tone -- the whole concerto takes wings not, perhaps, as never before, but certainly as very seldom before. The Brahms is given a thorough-going romantic approach, full of feeling but also very carefully considered.

...[A] superlative version of the Sibelius... The performance Francescatti gives of the Sibelius is, technically, an impossible one: not even Heifetz plays the end of the first movement dead in tune, so it can't be done! but Francescatti does it. He also does everything else that can't be done with this concerto (as well, beginning to take things for granted, as everything that can); Sibelius's lines flow in a rich, warm glow of tone, his rhythms pulse, and, again, his chords are in tune. The orchestra are along with Francescatti, and they, too, have a rich quality of string tone and a pulsing rhythm; indeed the whole concerto takes wings not, perhaps, as never before, but certainly as very seldom before.

-- Gramophone [10/1965, reviewing the original LP release of the Sibelius]

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Francescatti himself is in splendid form. He has a bad patch just before the G major episode in the finale, but otherwise his intonation is good and his tone as sweet as ever. The slow movement is rather more expressive than usual, the finale rather more fiery. Much of the credit for this must go to the conductor, Leonard Bernstein, who can get from an orchestra a degree of rubato usually expected only of pianists playing Chopin. The orchestral introduction to the slow movement is an example. Some will find the way Bernstein points the end of each two-bar phrase too mannered for their taste, but, apart from the fact that it's clever to get an orchestra to phrase so sensitively, he certainly matches the style of the solo playing. In the first movement there are no tricks to interrupt the flow of the whole, and the music is played with impressive breadth and understanding. The cadenza is Joachim's. This is without doubt one of the best available versions of the Brahms Violin Concerto, and if you like a thorough-going romantic approach, full of feeling but also very carefully considered, this may well be the one you will like best.

-- Gramophone [12/1963, reviewing the original LP release of the Brahms]

A marvellously convincing performance that in its uninhibited way blows any cobwebs off one's impressions of this romantic masterpiece. Under Bernstein there is never boredom: only freshness and much excitement.

Slick, you may say from our side of the Atlantic, in a tone of old-world smugness, but what a lot there is to be said in a highpowered and quirky romantic symphony for the Bernstein touch and unlimited rehearsal time. After all Bernstein has something of the musical Byron about him, and Liszt himself was hardly a paragon of refinement.

Bernstein's is a marvellously convincing performance that in its uninhibited way blows any cobwebs off one's impressions of this romantic masterpiece. Under Bernstein there is never boredom: only freshness and much excitement. But that said one does have to tackle the inevitable question: how does Bernstein compare with Beecham ? Most of my detailed comparisons reveal exactly the contrast one would expect. In the grand enunciations of Faust's martial theme in the first movement Beecham has more swagger and panache : by comparison Bernstein seems to be driving too hard. In the delicate little passage near the beginning of the second movement where Gretchen counts the petals ("He loves me, he loves me not"), Bernstein sounds perfect until you hear Beecham. Beecham with his daring but controlled rubato conveys so much more the tentativeness, the expectancy of joy, and it is the same through much of that slow movement. The second subject, marked dolce amoroso, is so very tender in Beecham's hands, that Bernstein's idea of amoroso sounds comparatively extrovert afterwards. The latter's account of the Mephistophelian finale opens with more diabolical drive, but Beecham conveys more clearly that the first bars are a mere introduction (he comes closer to observing the instruction ironico) and when the gallumphing scherzando distortions of the Faust themes appear the Beecham panache again triumphs.

All of which suggests a clear preference in Beecham's favour, and there is no doubt that anyone who has grown to love the Beecham performance should remain with him. But Bernstein's freshness and directness have a cumulative effect whatever the detailed comparisons, and the choral ending is more expansive than with Beecham. Particularly if one does not trouble too much about what Bernstein did at a particular bar, it is a hair-raising experience he provides, and the recording, very reverberant but brilliant as well, is recognizably more modern than the Beecham. The coupling too may have an influence on choice, though for my money I find Orpheus more interesting than Les Preludes every time. Although listed I have left the DGG issue out of the comparisons: neither playing nor recording come anywhere near the other two.

One final comparison between Beecham and Bernstein: at the very opening when violas and 'cellos enunciate Faust's mystic theme (ranging over all twelve notes of the scale as Stuckenschmidt has pointed out) Beecham conveys a sense of reverie. This is Faust the philosopher, where Bernstein's reading conveys less of mysticism and magic than a confident magician after the manner of Dukas. But to go to the same theme when it returns after the development: there curiously the contrast is quite different. After the frenzy of the development Beecham somehow fails to relax completely, where Bernstein's extra tautness in the preceding argument allows a deeper sense of calm in the return to the home idea. But then when in the finale that same theme is hinted at, pizzicato over mysterious muted horns, it is Beecham who again shows a clear supremacy. It is a marvellous work whichever version you choose.

-- Edward Greenfield, Gramophone [reviewing the original LP release]