Seeing the name Guiomar Novaes makes me feel like a kid again, blowing my allowance on Everests and Vox Boxes and Vanguards and the like (Serious Record Collector's Disease can strike early and hard—parents, know the telltale signs!). By the time I hit puberty (the verb is entirely appropriate) I had acquired several of the Brazilian pianist's Chopin discs for Vox, although I did so more by happenstance than by design.
And then I was a child no more, and it was time to put away childish things. Novaes and her discographie companions were filed away with the rest of my immaturity as I graduated to bigger allowances, and bigger labels and artists. A few years ago I remember actually sneering at an acquaintance's suggestion that we listen to Novaes's recordings of a few Chopin Nocturnes. "How good could she be?' ' I asked him and myself.
I now eat my words, because Novaes is very good indeed. These three sets were both a trip down Memory Lane and a voyage into new territory. I knew about her close association with Chopin's music, but I didn't know to what extent she made her mark in Romantic and Classical repertoire. "The Classical Novaes" is Exhibit A: consider her serene, stately "Emperor" Concerto, a performance which doesn't deign to impress the listener with mere technical display. Also, consider her Mozart, a perfect blend of clarity and emotional involvement. This is music from the Classical period played with a Romantic sensibility, but one that doesn't glorify the artist at the expense of the art. With Novaes, Beethoven and Mozart came first.
The other two sets are similarly impressive by means of similar virtues. Novaes never hurries, never pounds, and never distorts, and while it would be easy to find more viscerally exciting or technically mind-boggling performances of these works, it would be hard to find ones that are classier or more poised. The Grieg concerto is a particular highlight: this is an uncommonly serious reading, one that blows the powdered sugar right off the snow drifts, and frankly, one of the best that I have ever heard. As for the Chopin, it goes straight to the listener with its intimacy. There's nothing special about Novaes's fingers, particularly in the Études and in the concerto, but the playing goes to the heart. And those Nocturnes! There are several great recordings of these works, but Novaes's are the ones that makes the recording process itself disappear, with her mellow colors and seamless line.
The orchestral accompaniments are passable and better than I expected, particularly when Perlea is on the podium. The 1955-ish sound ranges from dim (the Chopin sonata) to quite good (the Nocturnes), although one would expect some distortion in the concerto recordings. Vox has given us better-looking and better-made booklets than in the past, and the program notes are surprisingly intelligent and thorough, considering the price you'll pay for these sets. Oh yes, the price. Vox Boxes, usually go for $5-6 per disc, which means that you can pick up all three of the sets, plus Vox Box CDX2 5501, which includes some more of Novaes's concerto recordings (Beethoven 4, Chopin 2, and Schumann, all conducted by Klemperer) and some treasurable encores, for about the cost of a routine visit to the dentist. Skip a visit, eat fewer sweets, floss more often, and buy these discs. They would make great presents for old and new CD collectors too.
Jonathan Nott’s Mahler cycle has now reached the fourth installment. Recordings have already been issued of the First Symphony, the Fifth Symphony and the Fourth. This is the first in the series to come my way.
Before considering the performance I think a few words about the recording itself may be helpful – I listened to these hybrid SACDs as conventional CDs. When I first started listening I thought that the sound appeared almost too close. In fact, I found that my ears soon adjusted as the performance continued and that I didn’t find the closeness to be as much of an issue on further hearings. I suppose the effect is rather akin to sitting just a few rows back from the stage in the concert hall. The orchestra sounds very ‘present’. There certainly seems to be a good spread of sound from one side of the platform, as it were, to the other but I’m less sure that there’s adequate front-to-back perspective. Another feature of the recording is that Nott has divided his violins left and right – of which I heartily approve. However, until the finale, where the strings dominate the scoring for much of the time, I couldn’t hear much of the viola, cello or double bass lines. In fact the strings as a whole are too easily swamped by the wind and brass sections in the first three movements.
For comparison I put on Simon Rattle’s Berliner Philharmoniker recording, which I so much admired in 2008 (see review by Tony Duggan). Here too the recording is fairly close but much more inner string detail is evident. I strongly suspect that the Tudor engineers have used a limited microphone array in an effort to present a truthful concert hall sound image whereas the EMI team have probably used multiple microphones placed within or above the orchestra in order to capture much more detail. I think the Tudor sound does indeed present the sort of sound that you’d hear in a concert hall – and Mahler’s scoring is very often wind- and brass-heavy – and it depends whether you want a recording for home listening to give you a concert hall perspective or whether you want as much detail as possible.
So you might want to sample the recording before purchasing. However, even if the sound is not quite your ideal – and, as I say, my ears adjusted quite quickly – sonic considerations aren’t everything here for Nott leads a fine performance of this magnificent, complex symphony.
He takes a fairly spacious view of I. In fact, at 29:46 his is one of the longest performances I know. Rattle is slightly quicker overall (28:56) but it’s interesting to note that some, though by no means all, conductors of the previous generation have taken less time over this movement. Barbirolli, for example, took 26:53 in his famous EMI Berlin recording, while Kubelik’s live 1975 reading (Audite) took 26:44. The celebrated 1938 Bruno Walter recording flashes by in 24:47. Have Mahler performances broadened over the years?
Nott may be spacious but throughout the movement his control and concentration are impressive. His reading isn’t as passionate as Rattle can be at times; it’s more patient. There were one or two occasions when I thought his speeds were just a little bit too measured but as a whole his reading is impressive. The climaxes are thrust home – at these points one has the impression that the orchestra is playing flat out – but the quiet passages often impress. For example the ghostly passage between 8: 01 and 9:47 is imaginatively presented with lots of good detail – I like the distanced muted horns, for instance. I think it would be fair to say that sometimes the violins sound just a little thin in alt and the string bass line is certainly underpowered – no doubt because one is so used, with many other conductors, to hearing the cellos and basses prominently through the right hand speaker. But, set against that I must say straightaway that much of the playing is vivid, the orchestra’s response is totally committed and there’s a lot of fine solo playing to admire. I have heard more dramatic, angst-ridden accounts of this amazingly rich movement but drama isn’t the whole story by any means and Nott’s account is very convincing and never less than wholly musical. He seems to see the whole movement in one long sweep and I admire his way with it very much.
The two inner movements go very well. There’s a good deal of sharply etched, piquant playing in II. Nott paces the music very well and he judges the many tempo modifications expertly. His reading of III is dynamic and thrusting. He and the engineers bring out a great deal of the teeming contrapuntal detail in the score. The trio (from 5:55) is taken at a suitably relaxed pace. This is nostalgic music but I like the fact that Nott never wallows in the sentiment; on the contrary, forward momentum is nicely maintained – and praise too for the solo trumpeter, whose silvery tone is just right. When the Rondo resumes (10:23) the music is turbulent and exciting right to the last bar.
The strings come into their own in the finale. The opening paragraphs are full-toned but the emotion is not overdone – Nott doesn’t play his cards too soon. The string playing is very good, the tone just weighty enough - and now we do hear a satisfyingly strong bass line. One rather special moment occurs between 4:05 and 4:54 where Nott obtains the most atmospheric playing imaginable from his strings. At this point the bass line is spectral with a wafer-thin violin line on top.
Nott unfolds the finale compellingly and the Bamberg strings and horn section in particular do him proud. Once again, this isn’t perhaps the most overtly emotional reading I’ve heard but the patience – perhaps even a degree of reserve? – brings its own rewards. Nott’s ability to take the long view and to build the movement incrementally means that when we reach the sustained ardent passage that lies at the heart of the movement (14:18 – 17:03) the effect is all the greater. The closing pages of this movement are always a huge test for players and conductor alike. Here the test is passed very successfully. During the last four minutes or so, starting with the second violin entry at 21:07, the music gradually winds down, all passion spent.
This Mahler Ninth is a very fine achievement. A host of great conductors and leading orchestras have essayed this symphony on disc over the years and though the seventeen versions on my own shelves don’t quite go from A to Z they do go from Barbirolli to Walter. This new version can certainly contend with the best of them and it’s one to which I’m sure I shall be returning frequently in the future.
This is a hybrid Super Audio CD playable on both regular and Super Audio CD players.
"The oft-recorded Haydn Concerto is vividly recorded with the signal completely unclouded. This reveals Tarkövi’s peach-tender full fat tone. This is on best display in the Andante of the Haydn which paves the way for the lickety-split allegro. The charmingly decorous two-movement Leopold Mozart Concerto features harpsichord continuo. Neruda’s Trumpet Concerto - like the Hummel work - returns us to the conventional three movement template. Prague-based Neruda wrote 18 symphonies, 10 violin concertos, one bassoon concerto, 34 trio-sonatas and, among much else, this trumpet concerto. It is a fluent work with some very eloquent noble invention in the opening Allegro and many touching and original turns in the solo line in the final Vivace. Hummel opens with sturm und drang before making way for some witty light-on-the-feet material. It is good to be reminded that Hummel wrote such a sweetly inclined concerto. Tarkövi is always pleasingly ripe-toned though he is not always ideally attentive to staccato demands. On the other hand mechanical noise from the pistons is imperceptible except once during the trills at the end of the first movement of the Hummel. There is much to enjoy here among these four concertos written between 1762 and 1803.
It is typical of Tudor that their booklet which is in three languages is a joy to use. It affords plenty of information about the music and the sensible font design and size is kind to the eyes."
The Bamberger Symphoniker and Jonathan Nott present Mahler's Symphony No. 7. Mahler's seventh was described as "very problematic" by Otto Klemperer following it's premiere, and as "a weak piece" by Theodor W. Adorno. Mahler himself considered this work to be mainly cheerful and humoristic in content. Here, we encounter a masterpiece of formal construction, instrumentation and, above all, content.
Smetana’s cycle “My Country” is a pinnacle of symphonic literature. There is nothing quite like it: six musical poems which, while independent of each other, form an organic whole. As a composer, Smetana was in the vanguard. This visionary work is unmistakably personal, connected to the Czech nation’s tragic history and to the Bohemian-Moravian landscape; it is not only about memory, it also gives hope for the future, brilliantly describing landscapes of the human soul. As such it goes beyond time, to create something of a lasting significance. This is music of nostalgia, which sets thoughts and emotions free. After hearing “My Country,” one emerges stronger. Every one of these six pieces has a tremendous energy, and enables one to live with melancholy and sorrow: the work transforms the listener and enriches his soul.
BRUCKNER Symphony No. 3 (first version, 1873) • Jonathan Nott, cond; Bamberg SO • TUDOR 7133 (Multichannel Hybrid SACD: 63:12)
In Fanfare 28:3, I briefly described the three versions—1873, 1877, and 1889—of Anton Bruckner’s Third Symphony, while reviewing Kent Nagano’s recording of the 1873 version with the Deutsches Symphony of Berlin (Harmonia Mundi 901817, also available as a multichannel hybrid SACD, HMC 801817). For all its virtues of interpretation, execution, and sound—and sounding even better in the SACD version—I judged it not quite as compelling a performance as one by Georg Tintner and the Royal Scottish Orchestra on Naxos 8.553454. Now a new SACD from Tudor further complicates the picture. Jonathan Nott, an English conductor enjoying a major career in Europe, leads a powerful performance of the symphony, and the Bamberg Symphony never sounded better. In “super audio” five-channel sound, this is now clearly the best recording to date of the 1873 version. It is also one of the shortest; Nagano is more than five minutes longer, and Tintner more than 14! The first commercial recording by Eliahu Inbal and the Frankfurt Radio Orchestra clocked in at 65:12, and the fastest ever, by Roger Norrington and his London Classical Players, zipped by at 57:25. In placing Nott and Tintner at the head of my list, I obviously do not care how fast the music is played, but how convincing a conductor and orchestra can make their interpretation sound. Nott, like Tintner, creates drama through persuasive dynamic and rhythmic contrasts, adding up to a complete and compelling conception. It is especially gratifying to find a relatively young (born 1962) conductor creating a profound and exciting performance reminiscent of much older conductors, such as Bruno Walter, Carl Schuricht, Wilhelm Furtwängler, Otto Klemperer, and Eugen Jochum.
Tudor’s notes argue, as did Georg Tintner annotating his own performance for Naxos, that the later versions were not so much improvements as attenuations of a great masterpiece that is best heard and understood in its original form. Now that I have become thoroughly familiar with it, I can no longer argue against that view, though there is so much to admire in every version of Bruckner’s symphonies that I prefer to enjoy each on its own terms. It seems more worthwhile to argue against those who, for whatever reason, try to suppress marvelous scores like the Vienna version of the First Symphony, or the final version (1888) of the Fourth, both of which were revised and sent to the printer with the composer firmly in charge, however much help he had from his disciples.
An ethical case might be made against the publication (as recently as 1977, edited by Leopold Nowak) of this first version, because the composer never tried to have it performed or published. But every Bruckner enthusiast I know is grateful to hear these alternate versions, and conductors may now choose which version or versions they wish to perform. Similarly, serious collectors can choose which they wish to buy and keep.
Thanks to many recordings and concerts heard live or by radio, one can now accept the large number of allusions to the operas of Richard Wagner in the 1873 edition.
This was the version Wagner saw; Bruckner sought and received the great man’s permission to dedicate the symphony to him. This version is characterized by monumental length: 2,056 measures, compared to 1,715 in the 1877 version, and 1,544 in 1889. When performed with such skill and conviction, and recorded in such rich and burnished sound as in Tudor’s new release, one feels that more, indeed, is better.
Tcherepnin: Narcisse et Echo, Op. 40 / Borowicz, Bamberger Symphony
CPO
CD
$18.99Jun 05, 2020
Nikolai Tcherepnin (not to be confused with his son Alexander!) represents a generation of composers who not only combined two diametrically opposed epochs – the nineteenth and twentieth centuries – but also followed the path of stylistic change leading from late romanticism to impressionism and from impressionism to modernism. His name stands not only for the culture of his native Russia but also in equal measure for Western European art – and especially that of France. In the symphonic prelude Princesse lointaine, a short early work, Tcherepnin develops his compositional aesthetic, and we already detect what later would be a dominant element in his mature works: an interest in legends and sagas. The ballet music for Narcissus and Echo forms the focus of this album. Tcherepnin realized the underlying ideas of the designer Léon Bakst and the choreographer Michel Fokine in his score and did so not merely in an illustrative way but on the strength of his own expressive means. The colorful gradations that Bakst discovered as an optical solution, sometimes the contrast between the Dionysian and Apollonian principles, and the contrast between the bright attire of the Booetians and the dark, muted color of the nymph Echo, who laments her unrequited love, are reflected in the changing orchestral coloration of the music. Tcherepnin’s music, in part pervaded by a tenor’s vocalises and a vocal ensemble, becomes a brilliant, highly pictorial subject. This is a stylized antiquity with an exquisiteness, beauty, and refinement integrated into a cult, and these characteristics situate the Narcissus score – one of the interesting aesthetic artistic monuments of the early twentieth century – in the vicinity of impressionism and modernism.
