Classical Music

Classical Music

From a 2012 live performance in Tokyo's Suntory Hall the Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks (Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra) conducted by Mariss Jansons embarks on a program presenting the 7th and 8th symphonies of Beethoven along with Jörg Widmann’s 2008 piece “Con Brio” commissioned by Jansons with the stipulation to use these Beethoven symphonies as basis and influence. Thus this deeply symbiotic collection unfolds, played with flair and great integrity within the fantastic acoustics of the hall.

A congenial coming together of kindred spirits.



MOZART Piano Concertos: No. 22, K 482; No. 23, K 488 • Daniel Barenboim (pn); Rafael Kubelík, cond; Bavarian RSO • BR 900709 (58:48)


Twenty-eight year old Daniel Barenboim and the esteemed conductor Rafael Kubelík are heard here in two of Mozart’s most profound and appealing piano concertos. Twenty years later, in 1990, Barenboim recorded these concertos with the Berlin Philharmonic, this time as both pianist and conductor. Between these years, Murray Perahia in his early 30s, as both pianist and conductor, recorded these concertos (in the mid 1970s) with the English Chamber Orchestra, and elder statesman Rudolf Serkin recorded them (in the mid 1980s) with Claudio Abbado and the London Symphony Orchestra. Barenboim, while continuing a busy schedule as a pianist, eventually became principal conductor or music director of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and later of the Berlin Philharmonic. Perahia continues, on occasion, to conduct chamber orchestras from the keyboard. Serkin never, to my knowledge, served as conductor. These facts are a source for interesting performance comparisons of these concertos. I am wary of the practice of conducting from the keyboard when the orchestral demands are equal to those of the piano or of any other keyboard instrument, and these two concertos make such equal demands.


The first and third movements of the E? concerto (K 482) on this CD are played at rather fast tempos, producing an inappropriate tension and a consequent masking of detail, robbing the listener of the ability to savor the beauty of Mozart’s creation. The exception is the andantino cantabile middle section of the third movement, where the tempo is suitable. The second-movement variations, however, are exceptionally well played, but the thrilling effect of the right-hand C Minor against the left-hand C Major (starting at the legato at bar 13 from the end) in the final variation is not discernible. Barenboim’s 20-year-later effort as pianist-conductor is much more successful, principally because of his more relaxed tempos. The C Minor/C Major effect in the final variation, however, remains hidden. Perahia as pianist-conductor produces a more satisfying K 482 than either of Barenboim’s efforts by using not only relaxed tempos but more effective phrasing. The C Minor/C Major effect in the final variation is no longer hidden at Perahia’s command. Unfortunately, Perahia’s decision to use Hummel’s cadenzas in the first and third movements was not a wise one. The Serkin/Abbado K 482 is still my favorite because of its very many virtues. Serkin’s characteristically deliberate tempos benefit this concerto by allowing the listener to hear detail not easily discovered, even in Perahia’s fine account. Abbado’s ability to allow inner part-writing to be clearly heard matches Serkin’s attention to detail. The C Minor/C Major effect in the final variation is crystal clear, and as a result an ecstatic experience. Bars 181–182 (shortly before the andantino cantabile ) in the final movement pass unremarkably from both Barenboim and Perahia, but Serkin plays them with an agogic that allows accenting of the first note of each of the four occurrences of four 16th-note groups. The result (at 4:00 in the Serkin recording) is magic.


The A-Major Concerto (K 488) fares better than its companion concerto under Barenboim/Kubelík and under Barenboim-“squared.” The more relaxed first-movement tempo of Barenboim-squared is initially preferable to that of Barenboim/Kubelík, but the latter has the distinct advantage of more discernible orchestral detail. But Barenboim’s more relaxed tempo in his dual role eventually becomes a bit sluggish. The plaintive F?-Minor Adagio has Barenboim at his best in both recordings, but Kubelík’s independence as conductor produces a more convincing emotional effect. The final movement is a Barenboim/Kubelík triumph in terms of the exuberance demanded by the music and the orchestral detail provided by the conductor. Especially noteworthy are the important bassoon passages, which are never masked, and the three appearances of the passage borrowed from the first movement of the B?-Concerto (K 456), which are gloriously bouncy. The final movement under Barenboim-squared is too subdued—too square, as it were. My preferences for the A-Major Concerto are Perahia-squared (but never square) and Serkin/Abbado. The former is the master of phrase shaping and the latter the master of attention to detail.


This is a disc worth having because Barenboim and Kubelík have something unique to say about these concertos. My preferences may lie elsewhere, but hidden details like bassoon passages and C Minor/C Major superposition are revealed enough by familiarity with the music to free them from complete hiding.


FANFARE: Burton Rothleder


Barenboim first collaborated with Kubelík when the pianist was sixteen. That encounter was in Australia. And K488 was the first concerto he played in public, back when he was eight. The conjunction of that concerto and the Czech conductor comes in this release from BR Klassik, which presents a collaboration made in June 1970 in Munich where Kubelík was music director of the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra.

This was a compatible meeting of minds. Barenboim is on record as having admired the older man for his seriousness and vitality, and it certainly sounds to have been a congenial coming together of kindred spirits. Kubelík ensures that the string weight in K488 is not too saturated but remains clarified, if not exactly spruce. Meanwhile Barenboim is characteristically attentive in his exchanges with the wind principals – the warmly supple dialogue with the first flute is a case in point. The first movement cadenza is conspicuously well played but contains melancholic introspections that are fully realised in the central movement – the veiled anticipations lead with inexorable logic to the deepening expression that follows. What remains laudable is that this expression comes at no cost to the architectural continuity of the music making. Instead the clarinets offer reprieve in their flowing episodes and the grandeur of the melancholy is adroitly realised by a confluence of soloists, alert orchestral colours and detailed etching of rhythms and contours from the conductor. Released from this spirit, the finale explores more bucolic emotions – bubbling lower winds, clarity and rounded ebullience from Barenboim and if the recording somewhat favours, as so often, the soloist - meaning that some winds writing can be swamped - this deficiency doesn’t materially limit one’s appreciation of a fine traversal, a unanimous one moreover, expressively and intellectually.

These features apply equally to the companion concerto performed here, the Concerto in E, K482. The Military-Janissary quality is welcomingly celebrated by Kubelík, the crisp chording having more than a touch of imperial majesty about them. Barenboim evokes something of his hero Edwin Fischer’s simplicity of expression. His excellently conceived cadenza playing impresses and so too does the austerity and interior expression of the slow movement. The reminiscent reverie cultivated in the central panel of the finale attests to the probing introspection of these collaborations.

Naturally Barenboim’s concerto cycle with the ECO will be the first port of call for collectors of the commercial discography from around this time. But these almost contemporaneous live traversals are of lasting value given the assured and sensitive direction of Kubelík.

-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

Includes work(s) by Karl Amadeus Hartmann. Ensemble: Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra. Conductor: Rafael Kubelik. Soloists: Wolfgang Schneiderhan, Maria Bergmann.

Conductor Daniel Harding's follow up to his first BR-Klassik CD (Schumann's Faust Scenes, BR-KLASSIK, 900122) is this 2014 live recording of Gustav Mahler's Sixth Symphony from Munich's Philharmonie I'm Gasteig. Counting Sir Simon Rattle and Claudio Abbado among his teachers, he has since 2005 made a name for himself leading spectacular concerts with the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra as guest conductor. One of Mahler's most unusual symphonies, the score of the Sixth is dark and complex, contrasting starkly with what appeared on the surface to be a happy and carefree phase of his life during it's composition. The BRSO has been a pioneering ensemble among the world's greatest orchestras in performances of Mahler's symphonies, dating to the Rafael Kubelík era of the 1960s.

This is a hybrid Super Audio CD playable on both regular and Super Audio CD players.

A performance that emphasises every detail.

By accident or design, two high profile recordings of Mahler’s Seventh, both conducted by Mariss Jansons, have been released in recent months. His Oslo Philharmonic recording on Simax (PSC1271) has garnered praise in some quarters, but is going to have to beat the odds to compete with this one, which sports both SACD sound and the revered Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra. Jansons uses a new edition of the score, prepared by the International Gustav Mahler Gesellschaft, and whatever its innovations might be, he directs a performance that emphasises every detail, as if striving to make audible each minute amendment and correction.
 
The approach sits well with the superior audio quality. On one level, the recording functions as a catalogue of fascinating orchestral details, obscured in previous recordings by poorer orchestral standards and more homogenised sound reproduction. But it is not just the details that make Mahler’s Seventh an unusual work. Jansons also brings his interpretive clarity to the symphony’s unique structure. Other conductors - and I’m thinking of Bernstein and Rattle in particular - often treat the work’s sprawling structure and wayward progressions as problems that need fixing or covering up. Their methods include faster tempos, less rubato, and emphasis on the excitement of the louder passages over the quieter meditative ones, so as not to lose the audience. Jansons takes the opposite approach. He does not apologise for anything he finds in the score. Rather, he goes to great lengths to ensure that every passage and every counterpoint is clearly articulated, skilfully phrased and propelled as if with an inner momentum.
 
The result demonstrates just what a revolutionary work the Seventh Symphony is, with its incongruous dance episodes, its evocative orchestration (guitar, mandolin, cowbell), its precisely notated string portamento, and its dizzying climaxes. Tempos are almost always on the slow side, which again emphasises the details at the possible expense of the whole. Adhering to Mahler’s notated rubato gives the composer’s structural thinking its due. It is found wanting but Jansons never goes so far as to offer a purely sectional structure as an alternative; the immaculate details are always part of a symphonic argument, however flawed.
 
While the overall sound quality is extremely high, some sections of the orchestra benefit more than others. The string sound is particularly impressive: the intensity of the high violins, the presence and timbral variety of the violas and the agogic weight of the cellos and basses. It may well be that the most radical aspect of Mahler’s orchestration in the Seventh is his use of the strings. Its sound-world relies on a complex vocabulary of counter-intuitive doublings, chord spacings and bowings. The combination of high quality audio, world-class playing and forensic detail from the podium allows each of these curiosities to shine through. Things are slightly less clear from the back of the stage, and the percussion in particular often seems muffled, or at least not given the clarity that a studio recording would have been able to ensure.
 
Those, like me, who are more familiar with British and American orchestras performing the work may be surprised by the central European brass sound, which can be quite nasal and vibrato-laden. Even the bass trombone solo in the first movement has a pronounced wobble. It is an upward trajectory throughout the work for the brass. The opening solo for Tenorhorn in Bb’ - presumably a Wagner tuba here rather than a euphonium - has a rich tone, but amazingly vie with the woodwind. The trumpets in the first movement struggle to synchronise in a number of important passages, and the horns are on the brash side. However, the horns more than redeem themselves in the solos of the second movement, while the trumpets come into their own in the finale.
 
In fact, the finale is the best part of this recording. The rondo structure withstands Jansons’ emphasis on detail better than the more complex structures of the earlier movements. His loyalty to Mahler’s notated rubato pays dividends, as there are many surprises in the tempo changes that would be lost in a more four-square reading. It remains a long and challenging movement, but Janson’s balances the expansiveness with a focused orchestral sound and a clear sense of direction. The result, in the closing pages, is a paradoxical sense of inevitability, the music’s goal apparently preordained, despite its remaining unconventional and unpredictable right up to the very last chord.
 
Although I have mixed feelings about this recording, it has a great deal to commend it. The standard of the audio is sufficiently high to appeal to the SACD buyers who would consider it for this reason alone. I would also recommend the disc to those who have heard the work and think they know it. I was in that boat and found myself continually surprised by Jansons’ many revelations. To those completely unfamiliar with the symphony, I would have reservations about recommending this recording, if only because the interpretation is so radical. But there is an admirable honesty about every interpretive decision Jansons makes, and by highlighting the many unusual details of the score, he demonstrates just what an innovative and unusual work it is. These are not the interpretive priorities of most performers approaching Mahler’s most problematic symphony, but Jansons’ advocacy, and his multiple recordings, may yet persuade other conductors to stop making excuses for it.
 
-- Gavin Dixon, MusicWeb International

Ludwig van Beethoven: Freedom Above All Else an Audio Biography by Jorg Handstein is racked by revolution, wars, fears and hopes and music, too. "In instrumental music, art is independent and free" that is the proud claim of the Romantic movement, and Ludwig van Beethoven implements this new artistic ideal thrillingly in his works. In the 10-part audio biography "Freedom Above All Else", Jörg Handstein tells the story of Beethoven's life. The panoramic backdrop of great historical events makes the highly personal story of this radical individualist all the more gripping. A major role is played by the music, which constantly follows new paths and is powerful, profound, eccentric, poetic, sensual and philosophical. This audio experience is rounded off by excellent actors, most notably Udo Wachtveitl as the narrator and Cornelius Obonya as Beethoven, and they are joined by several of the most renowned musicians of our time. On a total of four CDs, Beethoven's life and aspirations can be vividly shared and experienced, and his music with it's many subtleties is woven into this highly exciting biography. His thoughts, feelings, everyday experiences and entire epoch are brought to life here - with everything based strictly on the original sources, but performed and narrated in a lively and inspired manner throughout. Vividly related ten-part audio biography on 4 CDs. Celebrated narrators including Udo Wachtveitl and Cornelius Obonya Complete recordings of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony with the Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks under Mariss Jansons, and the Piano Sonata in F minor performed by Alexej Gorlatch.

Two well-known masterpieces of Russian music complement each other perfectly on the latest release of Mariss Jansons and the Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks. Recorded November 2014 (Mussorgsky) and April 2015 (Stravinsky) at concerts in the intimate dimensions of Herkulessaal of the Munich Residenz and in the Philharmonie im Gasteig. With the 1947 revised version of Stravinsky's “Petrushka”, a revision ultimately preferred by Stravinsky himself and here featuring the piano of the prolific Lukas Maria Kuen, along with the 1922 orchestral version of Mussorgsky's "Pictures at an Exhibition" memorably and engagingly transcribed by Maurice Ravel elevating the piece to the pantheon of one of the most familiar of all classical works.

A recording of Ludwig van Beethoven's "Ninth" is always a great event, especially because the symphony's final chorus, Schiller's "Ode to Joy", is understood around the world as a plea for peace and international understanding. It was no coincidence that the catchy melody to the text "Joy, beautiful spark of divinity" was chosen as the Hymn of the European Union. This recording of Beethoven's great choral symphony under the direction of Bernard Haitink and with excellent instrumental and vocal soloists is not only an outstanding interpretation of the work but also very much an event in itself -because these recordings document Haitink's last ever concerts with the Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks. Only a few months after his two Munich concerts on February 21 and 22, 2019, the great Dutch conductor -who celebrated his 90thbirthday on March 4 -announced the end of his career.

The 2007 recording that has now been reissued by BR-Klassik or Mahler’s First Symphony, with the Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks under its chief conductor Mariss Jansons, can be regarded as an album premiere- in that this recording has only so far been available as a bonus release forming part of the audio biography of Gustav Mahler “World and Dream.” (BR Klassik)

Dmitri Shostakovich was one of the most important composers of the 20th century. With his works - most notably his fifteen symphonies, which took Late Romantic music and transferred it to the modern age – he has shaped the repertoire. His aesthetic is determined by the impact of the Second World War and also by the political conditions in the Soviet Union under Stalin. Forced to work for the dictator, he also had to make numerous concessions to him. It was in the war year of 1941 that Shostakovich composed his Symphony No. 7 in C major, opus 60. It comes in the approximate middle of his oeuvre and was named the “Leningrad” symphony because Shostakovich dedicated it to his native city (today’s St. Petersburg). The marching theme in the first movement was composed even before the outbreak of the German-Soviet war, in around 1939 or 1940. He wrote further movements in Leningrad, during its siege by German troops from September 8, 1941 onwards, and finally completed the symphony in Kuibyshev (Samara) on the Volga, having been evacuated from the war-torn city together with his family on October 1, 1941. It was there on March 5, 1942 that the symphony received its world premiere, performed by the similarly evacuated orchestra of Moscow’s Bolshoi Theatre under the direction of Samuil Samossud. The Moscow premiere on March 27 took place in perilous circumstances, but even an air raid alert could not convince the audience to go to the shelters, so captivated were they by the music. The music has retained its fascination to this day, and the Seventh Symphony is considered Shostakovich's best-known work. Mariss Jansons, who himself ranks as a specialist in the Slavic repertoire as well as the symphonic music of the 19th and 20th centuries, has tackled this masterpiece on numerous occasions. This performance, released for the first time, was recorded at concerts on February 11 and 12, 2016 at the Philharmonie in Munich’s Gasteig. Here, under Jansons' baton, the musicians of the Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks interpret Shostakovich's Seventh Symphony as a shattering testimony to the epoch in which it was written as well as a profound expression of our present age. The live recording of those concerts is now being released by BR-KLASSIK in an exemplary interpretation of one of the most important symphonic works of the 20th century.

"[T]he first three symphonies are treated to exuberant readings, with lots of Haydnesque brio, except in the slow movements, where Schubert’s lyricism comes to the fore. Maazel and company change gears very comfortably, shifting in the Second Symphony from the boisterous ebullience of the first movement to the tender naïveté of the following Andante. And back again, in the propulsive Menuetto and Presto vivace finale. I’m happy that my favorite among the first six, No. 3, receives a model performance, from the hushed, feathery violin figures in the Adagio maestoso introduction to the breakneck Presto vivace finale. Maazel makes all the right moves as far as I’m concerned, and I’m as happy with this performance as with any on disc...

Schubert’s last two symphonies, with their grander gestures and grander orchestral palette, actually sound just a bit small-scale in these performances, and I think that reflects an interpretive trend rather than any outright lack on the part of conductor or orchestra. Basically, these are excellent readings, fully idiomatic, without an ounce of extraneous rubato or other grandstanding gestures that conductors often impose on this music, especially the Great C Major. The comparative lightness of texture in Maazel’s interpretation recalls recent performances I’ve heard by the likes of the Northern Sinfonia under Thomas Zehetmair (Avie) and the Budapest Festival Orchestra under Ivan Fischer (Channel Classics). A far cry from one of my favorites of another era, Georg Solti leading a hefty Vienna Philharmonic (Decca). Both approaches seem valid to me. Certainly, Maazel brings great nobility to this score; the sense of momentum with which he invests the last movement makes this the worthy high point of the set.

The Bavarian orchestra plays with expected fervor but with great discipline as well; in fact, you could be forgiven if in a blind test you thought these performances were set down in a studio—at least before you heard the applause at the end of each symphony. And except for the usual balance problem here and there, the recordings are quite good. There are a number of fine recordings of the eight Schubert symphonies available; I now count Maazel’s among them.

—Lee Passarella, Audiophile Audition

The Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks has already performed Beethoven symphony cycles on several occasions. Mariss Jansons has now extended the cycle concept in two respects: with works specially commissioned from contemporary composers, who have contributed their own musical reflections on Beethoven symphonies, and by presenting these outstanding concert events on the record market as a series of live recordings. Following the excellent response from critics and audiences for the award-winning Complete Edition (BR-KLASSIK, 900119), BR-KLASSIK now presents the symphonies on individual CDs. The first of these is the Symphony No 3 in E Flat, op 55, in a live recording made in 2012 in Munich's Herkulessaal, accompanied by a work of the Russian composer Rodion Shchedrin (born 1932). For his symphonic fragment "Beethoven's Heiligenstadt Testament," Schedrin has selected the devastating document - written around the same time as the Eroica - in which the composer described the progressive deafness that almost drove him to suicide.

R. STRAUSS Der Rosenkavalier: Suite. Till Eulenspiegel’s Merry Pranks. 4 Last Songs • Mariss Jansons, cond; Anja Harteros (sop); Bavarian RSO • BR 900707 (63:33)


In the program notes, Mariss Jansons is quoted as saying in reference to Richard Strauss that “His music has accompanied me all my life and still stirs me very deeply.” Despite that, his interpretations are curiously understated. The Rosenkavalier Suite is beautifully, almost reverentially played, but is surprisingly subdued. The explosive opening and buildup to Octavian’s grand entry in act II lack passion, exhilaration, and breathless anticipation. Jansons’ pacing is consistently slow to the point where the “Presentation of the Rose” sequence almost loses momentum. The same is true of the waltzes. They sound lovely, but all of this lyrical and slow music tends to drag and lack dynamic contrast, especially in this suite (as opposed to Antál Doráti’s version with its well-positioned and more extensive inclusion of the comical music that opens act III). The Trio is gorgeous at the by now expected very slow speed (how can it not be?). The temptation to linger over this sublime music must be nearly irresistible. However, this Marschallin, Octavian, and Sophie sound like they are on Valium.


Till Eulenspiegel is similarly relaxed, slow, and finely nuanced. The overall effect is light and balletic (not a bad thing). Jansons’s Till is a very lighthearted prankster. In this case, ample contrast is provided by some incisive and powerful bass drum thwacks. It is a pleasure to hear the flawless horn and woodwind soloists in this incredibly refined orchestra.


If you are sympathetic toward the Jansons/Anja Harteros interpretation of the Four Last Songs , this will be for you because they do it really well. Harteros is unfailingly pitch-perfect and her approach is almost operatic. Jansons’ tempos are middle of the road, but the general impression is that they are swifter. In contrast to Der Rosenkavalier , he doesn’t linger here. The execution of the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra is truly amazing throughout this recording. I can’t remember hearing Strauss’s remarkable orchestration being presented with this degree of clarity that sounds more cool and transparent than dense and lush.


The sound is solid without ever being overtly flashy. Audiophiles may complain that this is the wrong way to record Strauss, but the engineering does successfully complement the laid-back performances. There is a good compromise between realistic orchestral balance and fine instrumental detail. Harteros is miked very closely and appears to be in a brighter acoustic setting than the orchestra.


These performances will appeal to anyone who wants immaculate and well-controlled orchestral and vocal execution. Clearly, this is not an interpretive approach to Strauss that will appeal to everyone. It works best in the Four Last Songs , which are indeed very special. Even though the Rosenkavalier Suite sounds a little cool and sedate, you still get the opportunity to hear Harteros and the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra work their magic in music that is clearly in their blood.


FANFARE: Arthur Lintgen

***This is the 100th Release of the BR-KLASSIK Label!***

At the age of just fifteen, the budding composer Richard Strauss (1864-1949) lost his way during a summer hike on the Heimgarten in the Bavarian Alps, and ended up in a thunderstorm. The next day, he fantasized about the experience on the piano. - Twenty years later, that memory had matured into a concept describing a one-day hike in the form of a symphonic poem, and in 1915 – a further fifteen years later – Strauss finally completed his masterpiece. The hike begins in the darkness before dawn, and after sunrise the ascent goes through a forest, past a stream and a waterfall, through meadows and pastures, and up to a glacier. The hiker then loses his way, and after several risky moments arrives at the summit, where he also experiences a vision. The weather then suddenly worsens, and the descent is accompanied by heavy rain and fierce thunderstorms. The eventful day - summarized in just sixty minutes of music - ends with a sunset, and darkness returns. "An Alpine Symphony" is probably Strauss' most famous symphonic poem. Its content is easily understandable, and the work became especially well-known for its gigantic orchestra. The music is far from heavy-handed, however, with many of the passages orchestrated like chamber music. Like a kind of greeting from the Bavarian Alps, as it were, the Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks and its chief conductor Mariss Jansons have placed this masterpiece, and the music of Richard Strauss in general, on the programme of their forthcoming tour of Asia in late 2016. The live recording of “Alpine Symphony” concerts planned for October 2016 in Munich’s Philharmonie im Gasteig is enhanced on this latest release from BR-KLASSIK by the addition of Strauss’ symphonic poem "Death and Transfiguration", first performed in 1890; the recording here is of concerts performed in Munich in February 2014. – We thus have two very recent interpretations of two of this great German composer’s most important tone poems on one release.

This newest release from BR KLASSIK explores the genre of the 19th and 20th century Rhapsody, featuring works from masterful composers Emmanuel Chabrier, George Gershwin, George Enesecu, Maurice Ravel, and Franz Liszt. The concert-like atmosphere of this recording makes this a truly unique release, as these works were recorded live in Munich as recently as October 2015. The five rhapsodies featured here come from different regions and the composers’ unique styles can be heard in each of their works. Chabrier’s “Espana” is centered around Iberian and folk music which was very popular at the time. Liszt’s “Hungarian Rhapsody” contrasts this work with its use of Hungarian folk melodies. The ever-popular “Rhapsody in Blue” from George Gershwin throws Americana into the mix with its blues roots. Mariss Jansons and the Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks never fails to please with their brilliant interpretations and performance quality. World-renowned Russian pianist Denis Matusev is brilliant as the “Rhapsody in Blue” soloist.

Mahler’s "Das Lied von der Erde” (The Song of the Earth) is subtitled “A symphony for tenor, alto (or baritone) voice and orchestra". It examines the border between two different genres: the Lied, in its extended form as a song cycle, and the symphony. And as ever in Mahler’s music, that border is anything but black and white. The work certainly differs radically from a mere song cycle: the Lieder are permeated by symphonic techniques and some symphonic movements are built up from huge stanzas. Interludes expand to become development sections in which important things happen. Indeed, the thematic events take place in the orchestra, and, in a certain sense, the soloists also form a part of the interwoven orchestral texture. The sequence of movements also follows that of a symphony: In the weighty outer movements one clearly notices sonata form shining through the stanza structures, and symphonic processes are obviously taking place. Two inner movements take the place of the slow movement and sarcastic scherzo. The entire work is spanned by a taut arc, culminating – in accordance with the principle of intensification – in a huge final movement lasting as long as all the others together, and entitled Der Abschied (The Farewell). Here, Mahler is continuing the genre of the “Finale Symphony”, and the brightening of C minor to C major is even reminiscent of his usual apotheoses.

In this symphony, as in his others, Mahler wanted to "create a world using all existing technical means.” The formal design of the work is unique, and the demands it places on its performers are extreme. It requires two highly experienced Lied singers, who in combination with the huge orchestral apparatus have to be able to perform as soloists while blending into the symphonic structure as concert voices. An excellent and well-coordinated body of sound is needed here, and of course a highly competent conductor to ensure cohesion and to give spirit and soulfulness to such a large-scale work.

REVIEW

What is perhaps most immediately striking is the detail and brilliance of the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra’s playing. Skelton makes a fine, handsome sound and offers something special in his moving reactions to the poetry. Kožená in her songs offers singing of supreme beauty. In fact, she sings almost too beautifully at times. Not a conventional Lied, perhaps, but a fascinating and beguiling one: highly recommended.

–Gramophone

"I enjoyed this performance enormously. Davis's Mahler is perhaps too restless, too blatantly 'conducted' for some tastes, but his occasionally heavy-handed manipulations of tempo are at least symptomatic of a desire to communicate a personal vision of and affection for Mahler's score. Both playing and recording are of exceptional standard, even if the lack of ironic edge to the sound lends the music-making a somewhat old fashioned air (strikingly at odds with RCA's strident, pop-inspired packaging). Davis's scherzo is warm and characterful in a rather cumbersome Sort of way, but his slow movement is a marvel -elevated in feeling and blessedly free of the intrusive inflexions which mar an otherwise refreshing account of the opening movement. No more affecting account has appeared for a decade and only Maazel's Vienna Philharmonic produce such glorious string tone. After this, the finale disappoints just a little. The 'operatic' soloist does not really point her words with sufficient poignancy -nor does she seem willing or able to sing quietly in her upper register - and Sir Cohn again insists on playing up the composer's expressive hesitations, adding one or two of his own. This may not be wholly idiomatic Mahler and yet, like so many recent discs from this source, it has abundant humanity and an extraordinary lack of artifice. The sympathetic acoustic of the Herkulessaal, well caught, is great asset.

-- Gramophone [7/1996]

Classical Music

Gustav Mahler's Ninth Symphony is primarily regarded as the composer's reaction in the summer of 1908 to the diagnosis of a heart ailment, which he received just before writing the first sketches for the work. Mahler was deeply distraught and cannot have known how few years he still had left to live. His processing and exploration of his life experiences, and of valedictions, the meaning of life, death, salvation, life after death and love, always took playce in and through his music. The Ninth Symphony was composed between 1909 and 1920 in Toblach, in a kind of creative frenzy, and was first performed in Vienna on June 26, 1912 by the Vienna Philharmonic, under the baton of Bruno Walter. Mahler had already died on May 18, 1911, and was no longer able to experience the premiere of his last completed work. Willem Mengelberg, the first ardent conductor of the composer's works, wrote in his score: "Mahler's soul sings its farewell!" Mahler's Ninth Symphony represents the culmination of a development process. The progressive chromaticism and maximum utilization of the tonal are here taken to their limits - and, for the first time, beyond them. Indeed, the two movements that fram the work, in particular, depart from the tonal entirely, pointing clearly to the dawn of a new musical epoch. Alban Berg even called this symphony "the first work of New Music".

BERLIOZ Symphonie fantastique 1. VARÈSE Ionisation 2 • Mariss Jansons, cond; Bavarian RSO • BR 900121 (58:45) Live: Munich 1 3/7-8/2013 and 2 7/1-2/2010


This new recording of Berlioz’s iconic masterpiece has a good feel to it—certainly, a more “Berlioz-ish” feel than the interesting but emotionally detached version by Robin Ticciati. Jansons achieves this feeling, particularly in the first movement, by means of varied accents on certain notes within the phrases, as well as by means of superbly chiseled dynamics that bring out details within the score without unduly italicizing the music. This gives the listener the feeling of, as the movement is titled, “Reveries and Passions.” Here, from the outset, one is aware of an awakening of the things that will eventually come to pass in the ensuing movements. This performance does not include the optional cornet solo in the second movement, but here, too, Jansons accents the music in a way (and I know this is hard to put into words) that just “sounds French.” You’ll know exactly what I mean when you hear it. I was also fascinated by the way in which Jansons held my interest throughout the “Scenes aux champs,” undoubtedly the most difficult movement of the five to pull off well—it’s so easy for this movement to come across as boring, particularly when it is not inflected.


One of the more interesting aspects of this performance is that Jansons does not slam into the “March to the Scaffold” as if it was the most dramatic event in the symphony (as so many conductors think), but, rather, almost ties it in to the previous movement by understating its opening measures. I would have liked a little more raw power when the brasses opened up, but he maintains his overall sense of balance here by not exaggerating. Jansons, rather, saves the all-out drama for the last few bars, which actually makes more sense—after all, that’s the “drop.” Jansons saves his best and most dramatic gestures for the “Witches’ Sabbath,” which has all the power and strange accents one could wish for. (Serpent Watch for those who actually care: That instrument is not used in this performance.) The particular way in which Jansons accents the timpani in the middle of the movement is absolutely wonderful, producing an effect I’ve heard in no other performance. All in all, this is exactly the kind of performance we critics yearn to hear but so seldom do, one in which a fresh approach is brought to an old warhorse, yet does not damage or mar the music.


Edgar Varèse’s strange work for percussion instruments and siren, Ionisation (1931), may seem a bit too different to follow Berlioz on a disc, but in its own way it is an ear-cleanser, particularly when one has been listening to a lot of Romantically-influenced music. The liner notes credit Varèse with having “discovered the mechanical siren as a musical instrument,” but George Antheil did that first in his 1924 Ballet Mécanique. Here, too, Jansons finds an unusual way of playing the work, giving it a jaunty, syncopated feeling, and it ends up being quite an enjoyable romp.


In its own way, this performance of the Berlioz is as good as the old mono recording I praised two issues back by Carl A. Bünte on Bella Musica, and the sonics are easily 20 times better here. Highly recommended.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

Impressive Brahmsians.

This disc follows close on the heels of these artists’ recording of the Symphonies Nos. 2 and 3 on BR Klassik (SACD) 900111. Both Symphonies were recorded in the splendid acoustic of the Herkulessaal and audience applause has been retained at the conclusion of each symphony. In May 2011 I experienced at first hand just how empathetic the relationship is between Jansons and the Bavarian RSO. I eagerly await the opportunity to attend one of their Munich concerts.

Brahms was aware that by writing symphonies he was encroaching on the territory ruled by Beethoven. In fact Brahms had written to Hermann Levi that he could feel the presence of Beethoven marching behind him. Many Brahms supporters, notably Eduard Hanslick, were happy to acknowledge the close relationship of the First Symphony to the music of Beethoven. Hans von Bülow went further, referring to the C minor symphony as “Beethoven’s tenth”. Brahms was 43 and at the height of his maturity when his Symphony No. 1 was completed in 1876 although the gestation period had been protracted, making sketches for the score, it seems, over twenty years earlier.

The grave and leaden thuds of the threatening drums that open the first movement Un poco sostenuto - Allegro are implacably convincing. Impressive too is the beautiful oboe playing of the rising motif at 2:16. Throughout this movement an assured Jansons successfully provides generous quantities of beauty, sadness and even menace. Compared to many rivals it took me a while to get used to his rather measured pace. One senses that he is rather holding back his forces. Although Rattle comes close with the BPO in truth no one I have heard on record has managed to provide an opening of such raw power. It approaches that of Klemperer and the Philharmonia. There is a burnished autumnal countryside feel to the E major Andante sostenuto. One could imagine walking at the edge of an eerily tranquil and shadowy forest whilst anticipating the ominous onset of severe weather. In the midst of such glorious playing I was struck how much the rising melody for solo violin at 6:05 reminded me of a section in Brahms’ Violin Concerto. Warm and magnificently lyrical melodies abound in the short Un poco allegretto e grazioso right from the swaying opening measures. Its manner is reminiscent of Mendelssohn. This is fresh music of the great outdoors and is evocative of cool early morning dew over a backdrop of wonderful Alpine scenery. Jansons conveys a sense of intense activity in the closing Adagio - Allegro non troppo ma con brio as if lying on a verdant grassy bank gazing up at the tones and shapes of a swiftly changing sky. I loved the inspiring and highly memorable chorale melody. The writing really evokes the finale to Beethoven's ‘Choral’ Symphony.

It was in 1884 and 1885 that Brahms worked on his Symphony No. 4 at the Austrian summer resort of Mürzzuschlag in the Styrian Alps. Hans von Bülow, who had conducted a rehearsal of the score enthused that the symphony was “stupendous, quite original, individual, and rock-like. Incomparable strength from start to finish.” It’s esteem has endured and remains for many Brahms’s most popular symphony. Walter Niemann found an intense degree of sadness in the fourth movement and wanted to describe the score as Brahms’s ‘Elegiac’ symphony.

A comforting mood of warm serenity and joy suffuses the swaying opening Allegro non troppo. In splendid performances such as this I am reminded of the verse, “perfectly cultivated earth. Honey of dawn, sun in bloom” from the poem Glimmer by Paul Éluard (1895-1952). Commencing with a striking horn-call in Jansons’s hands the E major Andante moderato feels like a dreamscape attaining beguiling heights of fantasy and grandeur. I love the good humour and vigour of the Scherzo as Jansons takes the music forward with majestic strides. In the dark key of E minor the final movement marked Allegro energico e passionato is a heroic drama constructed out of a theme and variations in the form of a chaconne often described as a passacaglia. Here Brahms introduces contrasts of the broadest imagination including chorale-style variations featuring horns and trombones. I especially enjoyed the lovely and moving passage for solo flute at 3:05-3:56 as well as the following woodwind interplay and the fierce and defiant hammer-blows.

Jansons and the Bavarian RSO provide highly accomplished performances even if they are unable to match the pervasive aura of heart-searching and the strong sense of excitement provided by Klemperer/Philharmonia and Rattle/BPO. The warm and well balanced sound quality from live concerts at the Herkulessaal, Munich is impressive.

It has been a ‘rite of passage’ for conductors to record a complete cycle of the Brahms symphonies and I have several splendid sets in my collection. My benchmark is the set of evergreen performances from Otto Klemperer and the Philharmonia. These are aristocratic, powerful and expressive. They were recorded with the great producer Walter Legge at his favoured venue: London’s Kingsway Hall in 1956/57 and can be heard on EMI Classics 5 62742 2 (c/w ‘Haydn’ Variations; Alto Rhapsody with Christa Ludwig, mezzo-; Academic Festival and Tragic Overtures). The digitally re-mastered sound is quite superb. With impeccable credentials Klemperer is a marvellous and experienced Brahmsian who made a studio recording of the Brahms First Symphony with the Staatskapelle Berlin as early as 1928. I often play the sterling performances of the Symphonies 1-3 conducted by Eugen Jochum with the London Philharmonic Orchestra from the Kingsway Hall, London in 1956 on EMI Classics 5 69515 2. Re-mastered at the Abbey Road studios, for its age, Jochum’s sound is excellent too. For an accompanying single version of the fourth symphony I would add Carlos Kleiber’s commanding 1980 Musikverein, Vienna reading with the Vienna Philharmonic digitally recorded on Deutsche Grammophon 457 706-2. Of the modern digital sets I greatly admire the 2008 accounts from the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra under Sir Simon Rattle on EMI Classics 2672542. They were recorded live in the Philharmonie at single concert performances with some additional patching. In my review I described them as, “urgently spontaneous performances conveying a Romantic power of immense intensity.”

Jansons and his Bavarian Radio colleagues are impressive Brahmsians. Any serious collector should be happy to hold this set of Brahms’ symphonies.

-- Michael Cookson, MusicWeb International

An unusual set that presents the complete cycle of nine Beethoven symphonies interspersed with commissioned works by Johannes Maria Staud, Misato Mochizuki, Rodion Shchedrin, Raminta Serksnyte, Giya Kancheli and Jörg Widmann. The modern works are in essence, reactions to or inspirations from the Beethoven symphonies. The Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra is under the direction of Mariss Jansons.

DVORÁK Symphony No. 9, “From the New World” 1. Heldenlied, Op. 111 2 • Andris Nelsons, cond; Bavarian RSO • BR 900116 (64:17) Live: Munich 1 12/2010; 2 4/2012

No jaded reaction here to just another decent but unneeded Dvorák Ninth. This may be the most spectacular “From the New World” recording to hit the listings in, well, forever. The first thing to love about it is the recording itself. It’s not an SACD, but it’s speaker-blowing and eardrum-popping dynamic, with timpani rolls that will shiver your timbers, and massed brass and string Fortissimo s that will rattle your windows. Elsewhere, there are velvet string murmurings and delicate flute fluttering so sweet as to arrest the singing of birds outside in the trees.

The second thing to love about this performance—if, like me, you believe the symphony is called “ From the New World” (as in a letter being sent home), and not “ The New World,” for a reason—is that Andris Nelsons doesn’t try to make it sound either American or Czech. Rather, he sees the score for what it is, a mainstream late-Romantic symphony in the Austro-German tradition, exactly contemporaneous with Tchaikovsky’s “Pathétique”—both were written in 1893—and among the last to be completed in the 19th century.

Nelsons’s way with the work is very refreshing; it avoids common performance clichés that have arisen around the piece, like sentimentalizing the Largo and italicizing the alleged Native American melodies. The net effect is a cleansing one, similar to the sometimes astonishing results we witness when the paintings of old Renaissance masters are cleaned and restored. Suddenly the colors are brighter and details are revealed that were long hidden. Similarly, Nelsons’s reading of Dvorák’s Ninth Symphony makes it sound fresh and “new” all over again.

If this magnificent performance and recording of the Ninth were not enough, Nelsons gives us Dvorák’s last and least often recorded tone poem, Heldenlied (Hero’s Song), composed in 1897. Though classified as a tone poem, it’s a tone poem with no specific literary program or narrative. Formally, it’s a symphony contained within a single movement, but having four distinct sections that correspond to the four standard movements of a classical symphony. The work was premiered by Gustav Mahler and the Vienna Philharmonic in 1898.

As stunning as the recording of the Ninth Symphony is, the recording of Heldenlied , taken from another live performance 16 months later, has even more palpable presence. It made my far from inexpensive B&W speakers sound like Transmission Audio’s $2-million Ultimate speaker system, not that I’ve actually ever heard one.

This is one helluva CD. I’m not on the jury, but if I were, I’d give it the orchestral disc-of-all-time award. For a great Dvorák Ninth and a spectacular sonic experience, this is a must-have purchase.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Three works that are very close to his heart were brought together by Mariss Jansons for this new CD release. Karol Szymanowski’s Third Symphony, which, in addition to gigantic orchestral forces, also calls for a chorus and a tenor soloist, depicts a fantastic sound painting of an idealized Near East, including the setting of a 13th century Persian text. Witold Lutoslawski blends Slavic local color into his 1954 Concerto for Orchestra, has a reference to Béla Bartók in the title, but it is marked by a musical approach all his own, one that reaches all the way into the avant-garde period despite its immediate accessibility. Alexander Tchaikovsky, born in 1946, may be the namesake of a giant of the Russian romantic era, although they are not related to one another in any way. His Symphony No. 4 is a musical appeal for peace. The work, written in 2005 on commission from Yuri Bashmet comprises sound-painting choral passages and a significant solo part for the viola.

Also available on Blu-ray

This brilliant live recording features the Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks under the capable baton of Maris Jansons performing Antonin Dvorak’s Symphony No 9 in E minor op. 95 “From the New World” and Modest Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition. Dvorak’s Ninth’s “sharply profiled landscape” sketched by the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra under the incomparable Mariss Jansons is, in the words of the daily newspaper Suddeutsche Zeitung, a “musical feast.” Mariss Jansons and Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition were predestined to come together. Few conductors are as adept as Jansons to savor all the richness and colorfulness of the paintings and sketches by the artist Victor Harmann. Michael Beyer has directed the recording of this concert.

FURTWÄNGLER Symphony No. 2 • Eugen Jochum, cond; Bavarian RO • BR 900702 (2 monaural CDs: 82:54). Live: Munich 12/9–10/1954


One fact has been demonstrated to me as I did some research for this review: There is no logic whatsoever in pricing practices of the record industry. The major competition for this release is Daniel Barenboim’s Chicago Symphony Teldec recording (43495), which is also on two discs. Teldec U.S.A. priced it as two full discs—so on Amazon it sells for about $30, and on ArkivMusic for $34.99. However, on the British site MDT.uk.com its price for U.S. customers is listed as $18.50, because Teldec in Europe decided to price it as if it were one disc (which is rational, since it is just two minutes over the limit for one disc). On the other hand, this Bavarian Radio release seems to be treated in precisely the opposite manner: $26.77 is the U.S. price listed on MDT, but it is only $19.99 on ArkivMusic! You figure it out—I can’t!


Time for full disclosure: At the time of Barenboim’s recording (2001), I was managing the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and I played a role in persuading him to conduct the piece and him and Teldec to record it. Because of that I could not review it for Fanfare , but two reviewers did, in 26:2. Marc Mandel liked it very much but felt that Furtwängler’s own Vienna Philharmonic performance issued on Orfeo trumped Barenboim’s in the concluding section of the finale, where Mandel felt Barenboim let down just a bit. Martin Anderson expressed no reservations at all, in an unreservedly enthusiastic review.


Barenboim’s still remains the only readily available and enjoyable modern stereo recording. Alfred Walter’s Naxos effort is flabby beyond description, and one’s mind wanders halfway into the first movement, never to return. A performance by Georg Alexander Albrecht on Arte Nova is better, but not at the level of Barenboim or Furtwängler. Takashi Asahina’s fine Japanese recording from 1984 is just about impossible to obtain in the West (and may be so in Japan, too, for all I know). There are actually five (!) Furtwängler performances on disc, one a studio recording for DG, the other four all live readings. By far the best is the VPO on Orfeo (C365 941 B). It has good monaural 1950s broadcast sound, inspired playing, and of course the advocacy of the composer, who just happened to be one of the great conductors of the 20th century.


Both Barenboim and Furtwängler persuade one that this is an important, enjoyable score. As different writers have pointed out, there are elements of Bruckner, Strauss, Schmidt, Rachmaninoff, and probably others in its blood. It is old-fashioned for its time, to be sure, and it has its longeurs. But it is deeply moving, a work filled with some considerable anguish (much of it was written in Switzerland where Furtwängler had fled because he learned that he was on a Nazi assassination list, and where he was unable to conduct until he was cleared of Nazi affiliation charges by the Allies). It is also a work that doesn’t really sound like anyone else, despite having elements of many. In the end, one’s interest is maintained by the skillful orchestration and a strong element of melodic inspiration. For those interested in Furtwängler or in late-Romantic music, both Furtwängler’s and Barenboim’s recordings are valuable.


So where does this first-time issue of a 1954 broadcast fall? Right at the top level with those other two recordings. I reviewed the Furtwängler Orfeo release (a 1953 performance recorded in Vienna’s Musikvereinssaal) in the Classical Hall of Fame in Fanfare 18:5, and commented that it had some of the best recorded sound of any Furtwängler recording. That is true—but the Bavarian Radio folks were doing it even better in the middle 1950s, and what we have here is truly fine monaural recorded sound equal to many studio recordings being made at that time. It still of course cannot equal the sound quality of the Barenboim recording.


What distinguishes Jochum’s reading from the other two is his different approach to orchestral sonority and his tauter reading in general. Barenboim and Furtwängler both built their orchestral sound from the bottom up. Everything rested on a foundation of the basses and cellos, and, where appropriate, the lower brass. Jochum’s sound is brighter—it wouldn’t be fair to call it “top down,” but it is definitely a lighter sonority, with more emphasis on the upper strings and brass than is the case in the other two. What it lacks in lushness it compensates for with brighter colors. Add to that his extra dash of rhythmic snap, and you have a performance different enough to warrant exploration by anyone who loves this work. I would still not be without the composer’s own and the Barenboim, but I am very happy to have added this to my library. Renate Ulm’s very interesting and informative notes are an added plus.


FANFARE: Henry Fogel

SHOSTAKOVICH Symphony No. 6 1. TCHAIKOVSKY Symphony No. 6 2 • Mariss Jansons, cond; Bavarian RSO • BR 900123 (75:25) Live: 1 Münich Herkulessaal 3/21/2013; 2 Münich Philharmonie 6/7/2013


Mariss Jansons is not new to either of these scores. Between 1988 and 2005, he recorded all 15 of Shostakovich’s symphonies, most in live performances, with more than half-a-dozen different orchestras in as many different venues. It could hardly be called an integral cycle, though EMI assembled all 10 discs into a boxed set, which it put out in 2006 at a budget price. Truer to the definition of “cycle” was Jansons’s traversal of Tchaikovsky’s symphonies. All six were recorded with the same orchestra, the Oslo Philharmonic, over a two-year period between 1984 and 1986, and put out as a budget-priced boxed set by Chandos in 2008.


I’m not familiar with Jansons’s Tchaikovsky, but I do have his Shostakovich, so I’m able to compare his 1991 Oslo performance of Shostakovich’s Sixth Symphony to this new one with the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra. As always, timing differences are interesting, though seldom determinative in judging the relative merits of one performance vs. another. In this case, the differences between each of the symphony’s three movements are fairly small, but incrementally, they add up to a total of two minutes, with the biggest difference occurring in the score’s Presto finale.

1991	2013
15:20	15:41
5:47	6:21
6:39	7:42
27:46	29:44

Unusual in structure, Shostakovich’s Sixth Symphony, completed in 1939, begins with an expansive Largo , longer than the following two scherzo-like movements combined. Those who expected another large-scale tragic-triumphant work along the lines of the preceding Fifth Symphony must have been nonplussed, but no more so than Shostakovich himself, who had planned on composing a monumental choral symphony on a poem extolling Lenin. Whatever the reason, Shostakovich changed his mind and came up instead with this strange piece that pits a dark, brooding first movement against two careening, cartwheeling, clownish-sounding fast movements that skate on the thin edge between comic and manic.


The concluding Presto should sound like it’s about to come unhinged, and in Jansons’s 1991 performance it does. But in 1991, the Oslo Philharmonic was not quite the world-class orchestra it has become today, while in 2013, when Jansons took up his baton to conduct Shostakovich’s Sixth again, this time with the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra, he led an ensemble that had already achieved world-class status. Jansons’s new account may be more detailed and distinguished by better playing, especially in the woodwinds, but his slower Presto sounds more cautious and controlled than it did in the earlier performance. As for the recording, the new BR Klassik CD may have a slight edge over the older EMI disc when it comes to resolution and depth of field, but EMI’s sonic image is actually more dynamic and has greater impact.


Jansons’s new Shostakovich Sixth is a very good one, but I wouldn’t rate it better than his Oslo effort. In fact, in my recent review of Vasily Petrenko’s Sixth on Naxos in 37:4, I stated that Gergiev and Jansons were my current favorites, but that was before I received this new release, so I had to be referring to Jansons’s Oslo performance on EMI.


That brings us to Tchaikovsky’s “Pathétique,” which may well be the deciding factor for you in whether you wish to add this disc to your collection. As I said at the top, I’ve not heard the conductor’s earlier version with the Oslo Philharmonic on Chandos, but Howard Kornblum reviewed it in 10:6, and gave it very high marks, writing that Jansons “has an uncommonly deep feeling for the composer, shaping each movement with a fresh and unswerving sense of continuity, with great expressiveness and energy.”


Those same qualities are abundant in this new performance as well. Jansons definitely has a way of teasing Tchaikovsky’s melodies into long-spun lines of great beauty. Having only recently completed reviewing the lion’s share of four different Tchaikovsky cycles, among which Pletnev and Kitaenko emerged as my favorites, I can’t honestly say that Jansons whips up the tumultuous first-movement development section to quite as frenzied and frightful a pitch as either of them, and I’ve heard the development launched with a more incisive, impactful wallop than it receives here. But on the other hand, Jansons makes more of the menacing Furies that visit their wrath on the lower strings in swirling counterpoints of dire warning. One doesn’t usually hear these string rejoinders brought to the surface quite as clearly as they are here.


The more I listen to this performance of the “Pathétique,” the more convinced I become that it’s one of the great ones. It’s highly dramatic, without being theatrical, which was something I was slightly critical of Pletnev for, and it’s emotionally quite draining, which is what any really good “Pathétique” should be.


If Jansons’s Shostakovich Sixth is not necessarily a first choice, it’s still very, very good; and coupled as it is with a better than very, very good Tchaikovsky Sixth, I think this release deserves a very, very strong recommendation.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Recording of the Month

When it comes to the music of Robert Schumann the dramatic works have always seemed to be the poor relations when compared to the rest of his music. This is mainly due to the writing of Eduard Hanslick, who at best damned the works with faint praise. The so-called "War of the Romantics" did not help: Schumann was seen as part of the conservative side by the followers of the modernists who included Liszt and Wagner. Either way his dramatic output and especially his opera, Genoveva, a work I enjoy, suffered as a consequence. Scenes from Goethe's Faust did not fare much better, which is a real shame as I have always regarded it as one of his greatest pieces, and not just of his late period, the music of which Hanslick all but dismisses. A convincing argument for the Scenes as a major work is made in the excellent accompanying book.

One of the perceived problems is that it is difficult to describe. It is not an opera but it's hardly an oratorio either. Perhaps a new genre needs to be developed to describe it. Until then perhaps we can call it an opera-oratorio, a description that highlights the best that the work has to offer in both worlds.

Scenes from Goethe's Faust had a prolonged gestation period of some nine years (1844-1853), with the third section having originally been conceived as a standalone work. The first two sections - Schumann was the first composer to set part two of Goethe's text to music - were added later. This led to the criticism that it was unbalanced with the best music being found in the final section, while the rest, which was composed during the period of Schumann's final illness said to lack the spark of inspiration. This is far from the truth. The work has to be seen as a whole or the scenes do not work together. These sections are used to highlight specific aspects of the 'Faust' myth and not the story as a whole.

If the third part could be said to be the most inspired, this is due to Goethe's text. The second part is the most dramatic and lends itself to a more dramatic interpretation through music. The result is a work which deserves more recognition. I would love to hear it performed live but whilst I can't see that happening anytime soon, this is the second new recording to have appeared in the last few years; Wit's Naxos version is the other. Perhaps people are coming to recognise this for what it is: one of Schumann's most important pieces as well as a seminal work in Romantic musical literature.

When it comes to performances the classic recording by Benjamin Britten has always been seen as the one to beat, although I must say that I have always had a soft spot for Abbado's star-studded live Sony recording from Berlin in 1994. I have always enjoyed Abbado's Schumann recordings. Is it any coincidence therefore that Daniel Harding, who became the assistant to Abbado in Berlin the following year, should choose to perform and ultimately record the work as well. This is an excellent performance, a true case of the apprentice learning well from the master. Christian Gerhaher is every bit as convincing as Bryn Terfel in the title role, while Christiane Karg, a soprano to watch, brings out a little more vulnerability to the role of Gretchen than Karita Mattila. That said there is very little to choose between the two, with all performers, soloists, chorus and orchestra, being on top form. Where the present recording wins hands down is on recording quality. There have obviously been a great many improvements in miking live performances over the last nineteen years, as this new recorded sound is a great deal brighter and more natural than that enjoyed by Abbado. This helps to bring out every nuance of the music and gives the listener new insights, especially when it comes to orchestration.

The booklet essay is excellent. It places the work in its true place of prominence. Added to this we find an interview with Christian Gerhaher in which he discusses the piece and a kind of glossary in which the characters are explained. This is all packaged in an attractive hardback book format.

– Stuart Sillitoe, MusicWeb International