In the post-war gramophone record era, the great conductor Arturo Toscanini was the first to record the work on February 19, 1950. Carlo Maria Giulini followed him only two years later and conducted Cherubini's Requiem in C Minor in his first studio recording. It is that which is presented on CD here for the first time.

CHERUBINI Missa Solemnis No. 2 in d • Hans Rudolf Zöbeley, cond; Monika Wiebe (sop); Helena Jungwirth (alt); Rodrigo Orrego (tenor); Wolf Matthias Friedrich (bs); Munich S & Motet Ch • PROFIL PH11060 (66:10 Text and Translation)

Luigi Cherubini (1760–1842) spanned the era of the first Vienna school, composing operas when young and Masses when old. He was to some extent a one-hit wonder: His 1816 Requiem in C Minor is a masterpiece, one that Beethoven asked to have played at his own funeral. Medée was popularized by Maria Callas (in an Italian version, as Medea ) in the 20th century, and it hangs around for that association, but Cherubini’s finest opera is Les Deux Journées , a “rescue drama” so filled with gorgeous music that Beethoven stole much of it for Fidelio . There are many other fine Cherubini works (none more so than this Mass), but none of them are individual enough to have carved a place in the repertory. On the surface, he seems a shadow hovering through the period, outshone by Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. So it was, but his music does have an easily recognizable, highly personal characteristic, a hint of modality seldom found among his three great peers. Many performances play down that character, choosing to emphasize the similarities with Beethoven; this is unfortunate, as it often produces second-rate Beethoven (which we don’t need) rather than first-rate Cherubini.

All of which leads to Riccardo Muti’s lifelong devotion to the composer. He has recorded one opera ( Lodoïska ), five Masses (one twice, on CD and DVD), and both Requiems over a span of three decades. For many of them, there is no alternative recording; for others, the competition comes mostly from semiprofessional groups—rightly called amateurs, for their love of the music. Muti’s way has undeniable attractions: top orchestras, soloists, and choruses; fine EMI recorded sound, with a master hand at the tiller. None of them can be criticized, but they tend to embody the Cherubini-as-Beethoven syndrome, so alternate views are always welcome. In Fanfare 25:4, I praised Muti’s recording of this D-Minor Mass as a shelf-clearer (my highest compliment), claiming that three earlier recordings, Newell Jenkins on Vanguard, this 1992 one (then on a Calig disc), and that by Hemuth Rilling on Hännsler Classics, “demonstrated the strengths of the work, but each had minor failings of its own and left this listener unsatisified.”

I don’t remember my exact objections to the Calig disc, but this time around I like the performance very much. It has a warm joy that contrasts with Muti’s cool intensity. Both choruses are large ones; Hans Rudolf Zöbeley’s choristers sing their hearts out; so do Muti’s when the mood strikes them (or him). Soloists are seldom important in Cherubini Masses; Zöbeley’s are recorded up close and are strong enough to make the most of that; Muti’s are more distant and make less of an impression. Both are all-Munich productions; neither the Munich Symphony nor the Bavarian Radio Orchestra plays particularly well (a surprise in any Muti recording), and the recorded sound is a bit bloated and unclear on both CDs. Both have the Latin text; Muti’s EMI disc (5 57166 2; there has been a reissue I haven’t seen) has an English translation as well. Despite similar tempos, the Zöbeley runs 13 minutes less than the Muti, three minutes of that in each of three sections of the Gloria. There might be times when I would prefer a 66-minute Cherubini Mass to a 79-minute one, but PC requires a nod to Muti. You should find this a most rewarding Mass no matter which recording you hear; I can’t offer a compelling reason to buy a second one or to switch allegiances.

FANFARE: James H. North

ORFF Antigonae • Wolfgang Sawallisch, cond; Martha Mödl ( Antigone ); Carlos Alexander ( Creon ); William Dooley ( Chorus Leader ); Fritz Uhl ( Haemon ); Marianne Radev ( Ismene ); Paul Kuen ( Guard ); Joseph Traxel ( Tiresias ); Kurt Böhme ( Messenger ); Lilian Benningsen ( Eurydice ); Bavarian RSO & Ch • PROFIL 09066 (2CDs: 143:06) Live: Munich 1958


Every collector knows Orff’s Carmina Burana . Many are acquainted with the Catulli Carmina . Fewer know that Orff, after World War II, produced three theater works that aimed to create a contemporary equivalent of the ancient performances of Greek tragedy, heightening the texts with his paradoxically archaic-sounding modern music, and with dance. Antigonae first in 1949 and then Oedipus der Tyrann in 1959 make use of the highly expressive 1804 German adaptations of the Sophocles plays by Friedrich Hölderlin. ( Prometheus , from 1968, sets Aeschylus’s Greek.)


As in the setting of Catullus poems, the orchestra is stripped of much of the color that makes Carmina Burana so popular, while retaining the visceral impact of a large ensemble. Antigonae requires six pianos, four harps, six each of flutes, oboes (three doubling English horn), and muted trumpets, nine double basses, and a large battery of percussion. The combination makes a wonderful noise in full cry, though Orff uses the whole orchestra sparingly and, much of the time, quite delicately. Opera singers of the first rank are required, but it is not an opera as such. The text is generally sung with little accompaniment, frequently at the extremes of the range, in an intensely rhythmic chant. Piano and tuned percussion are used to establish key, add color, and punctuate the line. Occasionally greater forces are used to amplify emotion, as in Creon’s and Antigone’s pivotal scenes, and to accompany the chorus. There are, however, lengthy stretches of heroically declaimed, sparsely accompanied German. This may sound monotonous, but throughout the many hours spent listening to three versions of the two-and-one-half hour work in review, plus a recording of the later Oedipus , I did not find it so.


I say this despite little German comprehension, and the recording’s lack of texts, or even a reasonable synopsis. One may secure a translation of Hölderlin’s verse, which Orff set line-for-line, but at more than half of the cost of the recording. Doing so will add to the appreciation of the work, yet in truth, with some knowledge of the story, Orff and the extraordinary performers make this a moving experience without translation. For those fluent in German, the wonderful diction and clear recording should make a libretto unnecessary.


If lack of text is a weakness—and in fairness, this is common to all releases—it is the only one. If one is going to issue a recording of such an obscure work, one best make it a superlative one, and that is just what Profil has done. On disc, the work has been almost exclusively the property of the Bavarian Radio. After the 1949 premiere at Salzburg, recorded but currently out of print, all but one CD release has been made in Munich either by the Radio Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, or the State Opera. Georg Solti’s 1951 recording on Orfeo is distinguished by the incomparable Creon of Hermann Uhde, but is put out of contention for a general recommendation by some rather scrappy orchestral and choral execution. Ferdinand Leitner’s is a studio recording from 1961, notable for the conductor’s subtle and nuanced pacing, which gives a spiritual quality to a performance that emphasizes character delineation. Inge Borkh is a vulnerable Antigone, heartbreaking in her grief and moving in her preparation for death. The recording, which I admire greatly, is currently available only as a download, so the discovery and release of this Sawallisch live recording from 1958 is particularly welcome.


Sawallisch was recording a fair amount of Orff in this period: a 1956 monaural EMI Carmina Burana that rivals Jochum’s classic account (DG) for acute conducting, and splendid recordings of the two fairy tale operas, Der Mond and Die Kluge , also for EMI in 1956–57. He was therefore an old hand at Orff by the time he led this performance. He does not linger as much as Leitner—his performance is more than a quarter-hour faster—exchanging some poignancy and understatement for an implacable sense of impending doom. Martha Mödl’s imperious Antigone fits into this approach perfectly, as does Carlos Alexander’s pitiless Creon and Fritz Uhl’s desperate Haemon. Paul Kuen is a fine Mime-like Guard, but must give pride of place to Gerhard Stolze’s conspiratorial reading for Leitner. William Dooley sings the Chorus Leader movingly, and the men of the Bavarian Radio Choir are the finest group to record this music, even preferable to their subsequent outing three years later. The remaining singers are equally fine, with special mention necessary of Kurt Böhme’s sonorous Messenger.


The recording itself is a marvel, showing almost no sign of its age. It is monaural, but with subtle ambient processing that provides some sense of space without adding artificial reverberation. (The booklet is silent on the matter, but the effect is pleasantly audible, and visible when scoped.) The sound is detailed and immediate, with remarkable percussion transients, solid bass, and the voices placed naturally in relation to the instruments. (Leitner achieves some of his delicacy and intimacy through forward placement of the voices.) The audience is almost completely silent. In all, this is the most desirable of the recordings of this work, a superb introduction to Orff’s too-seldom explored Greek tragedies, and a gripping dramatic experience.


FANFARE: Ronald E. Grames

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

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Crowe gives strikingly committed performances.

Carissimi’s motets don’t get that many outings on disc, which is surprising as they are rather striking pieces. Written in Rome at a time when opera was banned, Carissimi seems to have been trying to create similar virtuoso pieces for sacred use. He wrote for some of the finest singers of the day and these motets for solo soprano and continuo were undoubtedly performed by distinguished castrato soloists. Even during Carissimi’s day there were complaints from the church about the length and profusion of notes in these pieces. The longest piece on this disc, Oleum effusum est, is nearly 25 minutes duration.

They have been recorded on this new disc by Robert Crowe. Crowe is an American counter-tenor based in Germany who has a startlingly large range. Though he has transposed two of the motets down a tone, their range is such that it would make most counter-tenors quail as they regularly seem to go above the stave.

To put this in context, the highest note in Britten’s Midsummer Night’s Dream is the C above middle C; this is used extremely sparingly. In these motets Crowe spends much of the time in the range stretching a 6th above this C. Some of these motets go up to concert top G and possibly to concert top A. The range also goes down somewhat, so that Crowe uses his chest register as well. Not all castrati had wide ranges. Senesino who created many alto roles for Handel certainly did not. But at least one of Carissimi’s castratos must have had a striking range.

The best castratos brought to music a combination of power, accuracy, control and beauty of tone combined with sheer technical ability. What Crowe brings to these pieces is a remarkable voice, able to sing these pieces at pitch and a decent technique.

His voice is definitely that of a counter-tenor; though possessed of a strong vibrato, it certainly does not have the quality which you might mistake for a female contralto or mezzo-soprano. As such Crowe provides a very valid alternative to performing these motets with a female soprano. It is an alternative which, perhaps, gives us something of a hint of what the castratos sounded like.

Crowe’s voice is remarkable and, on occasions, lovely. But there are limitations.

A counter-tenor friend, when young, counted Rossini’s aria Di tanti palpiti (from Tancredi) in his repertoire but eventually dropped this sort of high singing. Not because the tessitura caused him problems but because he found that the sheer technical bravura required to produce these high notes meant that he had little leeway for control and for colour in the voice. This kept occurring to me as I listened to Crowe singing these arias; you are repeatedly struck by the remarkableness of his high register, but also by the limited variation of volume and tone quality. The most beautiful passages are where Crowe is singing in his middle range, not at the very top of his voice. The upper notes rarely sound easy and sometimes tend to stand out overly from the line.

This is the other serious problem with the disc. Crowe’s technique is respectable, but not dazzling. I am sure his performance in many other circumstances would be perfectly acceptable. Unfortunately his high notes tend to dominate, removing any possibility of evenness of tone and regularity of divisions in runs. I felt that in the longer pieces his voice also sounded as if it might be getting tired. His vibrato is also rather noticeable, something I found a little unsatisfactory in the passagework, but I am aware that this does not bother everyone.

Michael Eberth provides neat and discreet accompaniment. It would have been nice if they had been able to add a cello to the continuo to provide a little variety in tone colour.

The CD booklet includes an article about Carissimi and his motets, plus texts in Latin, English and German. The CD has only four tracks, one for each motet; I did wonder if it might have been helpful to subdivide the longer motets.

Crowe has produced his own editions of these pieces from early 17th and 18th century sources. He clearly feels strongly about the motets and gives a strikingly committed performance. I would like to be more enthusiastic about this disc but feel that Crowe’s remarkable voice is still looking for its ideal medium.

-- Robert Hugill, MusicWeb International

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

The Staatskapelle Dresden certainly hasn't lost its touch in Bruckner, and happily Christian Thielemann also does his best work in this live performance. He paces all four movements just about perfectly, with enough freedom of pulse (especially in the finale) to keep the rhythms from turning monotonous. The first movement has wonderfully powerful climaxes and the scherzo plenty of joyous energy (save for a couple of unnecessary diminuendo/crescendos at the end of sections).

The adagio is very beautiful, with superb work from the strings, horns, and Wagner tubas. However, both here and in the finale (the coda especially) the trumpets could penetrate a bit more powerfully when they need to ride over the entire orchestra. This may be a function of the recording, which is very natural but perhaps just a touch distant. Still, as a live production it really does convey the thrill of having been there in person. There are many fine versions of this symphony currently available, but you won't be sorry if you add this one to your collection as well.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

What makes Bruckner's eighth symphony so special to Jukka-Pekka Saraste is the richness of it's atmosphere. He is always excited by the dramatic first subject of the first movement, which is based on the same rhythmical motive as appears in the beginning of Beethoven's Ninth symphony. Saraste chooses to perform the Haas edition because it contains some fascinating sections taken from Bruckner's first version. In his version, Bruckner, advised by his well-meaning supporters, appears to have tried to create a greater symphonic unity and line.

German conductor Christian Thielemann chose Anton Bruckner’s magnificent Seventh Symphony to mark his inauguration as principal conductor of the Staatskapelle Dresden in 2012, the live recording of which is included in this release. One of Bruckner’s most famous symphonies, his Symphony No. 7 in E Major was written between 1881 and 1883, and received its premiere on December 30, 1884. The work is dedicated to Ludwig II of Bavaria. This album couples Bruckner’s symphony with Richard Wagner’s “Das Liebesmahl der Apostel.” This work for orchestra and male chorus is seldom performed, and is widely overshadowed by Wagner’s more famous works.

Klaus Tennstedt (1926–1998) became an international performing and recording star relatively late in his life, and then had his career further shortened by illness. He made many recordings, but apart from a fine Eighth with the London Philharmonic, I cannot recall any authorized commercial recordings of Bruckner symphonies. That makes the present release especially valuable, for Tennstedt was masterful in all the German and Austrian classics, Bruckner included. The present release gives us a performance taped by the Bavarian Radio in April 1976, and finds the orchestra—always a good one since Eugen Jochum rebuilt it after World War II—playing with its customary zest for the idiom of Anton Bruckner. Although the 1877 version of the Third Symphony had won several converts by 1976, Tennstedt, like Jochum, Herbert von Karajan, Sergiu Celibidache, and Stanislaw Skrowaczewski, continued to perform the final, 1889 version of the symphony. By far the shortest of the three versions now in print, it can indeed be played idiomatically in 52 minutes.

This performance is intense and powerful in its outer movements, gentle and lyrical in the Andante, bewegt, quasi Adagio, and energetic in the Scherzo. The analog stereo sound is decently balanced, and generous in its range of frequencies and dynamics. However, it places the listener well back in a large and resonant space, so that inner details are sometimes swallowed by resonances. Most listeners should not mind this, as the performance always moves with assurance and, in those dynamic outer movements, irresistible urgency.

Robert McColley, FANFARE

It was a debut that will long be remembered. It was in October 2006 that Yannick Nezet-Seguin first conducted the Dresden Staatskapelle, which with its invitations to younger conductors in particular was increasingly emerging “as a talent scout for the next generation of baton-wielders” (German daily Die Welt). The 31-year-old newcoming, whose very name was a tonguetwister for most, had hitherto attracted the most attention in his native Canada; since 2000 he had been directing the Orchestre Metropolitain, little brother of the Orchestre Symphonique in his birthplace of Montreal. After debuts with orchestras in Toulouse, Goteborg and Birmingham, he was now in the Semperoper, standing for the first time in his life before one of Europe’s long-established, tradition-steeped orchestras. Nezet-Seguin was no disappointment. In fact, he was just the opposite. Straight away at rehearsals, it was obvious that this young man knew exactly what he wanted in works by Britten, Ravel and Shostakovich; in concerts, he was in full command of musicians and audience alike with his energetic and precise conducting manner, his sens of sound and rhythmic structures. Word soon got around that news of “the Great Canadian Conductor for whom this country’s classical music buffs have been waiting” (Toronto Star) was more than a mere marketing device. And people believed him when he admitted that conducting had been “like a vocation” for him ever since he was ten years old. “Today I have the feeling that I am living the dream I had as a little boy,” he confessed.

Having completed a highly successful survey of Bruckner’s nine, numbered symphonies with his live recording of the Sixth in March 2013, Gerd Schaller has now turned his attention to the fringes of Bruckner’s output. This new recording from March 2015 of the so-called “Die Nullte” is a most welcome addition to the discography.

I was unfamiliar with this symphony but reassured by my instant recognition of some very Brucknerian tropes in the opening bars which heralded a surprisingly mature and rewarding work; perhaps it is for this reason that although he initially disowned it, Bruckner apparently tacitly acknowledged its worth by eventually bequeathing the manuscript to the Linz state museum. The opening motif is a persistent, scurrying, semiquaver figure over a sombre march and punctuated by stately, defiant brass chords, all very proleptic of the beginning of the Third Symphony. Ultimately a magnificent climax is underlined by a characteristic Brucknerian pause of six beats and we thus remain on familiar territory.

The calm, richly harmonised introduction to the Andante creates a bucolic or pastoral atmosphere, followed by a first falling, then rising, chromatic theme which is passed around the orchestra from the cellos to the woodwind to the flute to the strings. The Scherzo is typically rumbustious and faintly menacing; the Finale is grand but slightly stilted and disjointed; perhaps the least successful movement. Indeed the comparatively short measure of the symphony’s movements – at least by Bruckner’s later standards – may perhaps partially be explained by his inability or unwillingness at this stage of his symphonic career to trust the material to longer development. For all its grandeur, it does not aspire to the cosmic “heavenly length” of the Fifth or the Eighth.

Nonetheless, this is a thoroughly enjoyable work, superbly played by an orchestra which set the highest standards in its Bruckner cycle and in the same warm, spacious, first-rate sound we have come to expect. It's another live recording in the more accommodating venue of the Regentenbau and without the challenge of the reverberation attendant upon the recording of those symphonies performed in Ebrach Abbey.

- Ralph Moore, MusicWeb International

Bruckner’s Sixth is one of his most genial symphonies, inhabiting a world not too distant from the symphonies of Schubert, Dvořák and even Beethoven’s Pastoral. In the words of the composer, this fetchingly melodic symphony is one he considered his “cheekiest” (“die Keckste”). This release completes conductor Gerd Schaller and his Philharmonie Festiva’s Bruckner cycle, performed in the context of the Ebrach Summer of Music (Ebracher Musiksommer), a cycle often exploring unusual and in some cases unperformed variants of the symphonies, many in editions by Professor William Carragan.

The first complete recordings of the original versions of the Symphonies Nos. 4 and 5 by Anton Bruckner.

BRUCKNER Symphonies: No. 4, “Romantic”; No. 7; No. 9 (Finale completion by William Carragan) • Gerd Schaller, cond; Philharmonie Festiva • PROFIL PH11028 (4 CDs: 214:16) Live: Erbrach 7/29/2007, 7/29/2008, 8/1/2010


The main interest here will be in William Carragan’s completion of Bruckner’s extensive sketches for the finale of the Ninth. The completion supplies architectural context for the first three movements, thus providing a valuable corrective to posterity’s deeply ingrained perception of this symphony as “unfinished,” like Schubert’s Eighth (coincidentally, both “ending” with a slow movement in an exotic, otherworldly E Major). That said, I find myself ambivalent about the enterprise for two reasons. First, the quality of the existing music: Although Bruckner left a lot of the movement in a relatively advanced state of sketching—the complete exposition and substantial portions of the development and recapitulation—much of the thematic content itself nevertheless leaves an arid, underdeveloped impression that (to my ears) fails to approach the level of the preceding movements. If he had lived to do more with it, he would surely have transformed it far beyond its existing state. More seriously, much of the movement is completely missing (including all of the coda); in contrast to the finale of Mahler’s 10th, we lack any kind of comprehensive blueprint to work with, in the form of a continuity draft for the entire movement. Carragan’s completion comes into competition with an alternative one by Nicola Samale and Giuseppe Mazzuca, which has been recorded by Eliahu Inbal and the Frankfurt Radio Orchestra (Teldec). Given the lack of any concrete sketches for the coda, any conjectural realization will effectively be an original composition. Carragan’s coda is longer and more imposing than Samale-Mazzuca’s, using, in addition to thematic recalls from the first movement, references to the first movement of the Eighth, as well as borrowing the chorale-apotheosis strategy from the finale of the Fifth.


This performance is billed as the recorded premiere of Carragan’s 2010 revision, but his own notes don’t offer any information on how it differs from his earlier version. That was recorded in 1996 by Yoav Talmi with the Oslo Philharmonic (Chandos), but since I don’t know that recording I can’t comment on differences. In any event I’m glad to have both the Carragan and Samale-Mazzuca completions. Another tack is taken by Harnoncourt and the Vienna Philharmonic (RCA, live), who present Bruckner’s sketches in the format of a lecture-recital, without adding anything (spoken commentary in both German and English)—here, I must confess I find their breaking off with the end of the sketches a more moving experience than anyone’s entirely conjectural original composing.


So there’s much of interest here, although I would have thought that a release of the Ninth alone might have been a more competitive proposition—how many prospective purchasers will really want yet another Fourth and Seventh played by a less-than household-name conductor and orchestra?


Happily, the performances are consistently fine ones that will grace any Bruckner collection. The Philharmonie Festiva is none other than the famous Munich Bach Orchestra, augmented for the purpose by players from the other Munich orchestras. They make a handsome sound—rich, sweet, recognizably Bavarian. The recorded acoustic (the Abbey Church in Ebrach) is ideal for Bruckner, reverberant but with plenty of bite and detail.


The Fourth is lyrically shaped with a natural flow, played straight with little deviation from the initially established tempos, though by no means inflexible. There are many imaginative details, starting with the evocatively tapered horn phrases at the opening. Indeed, the brass playing throughout is of exceptional quality, conjuring the work’s forest atmosphere most effectively. I occasionally miss the stronger interpretive profile of the great Bruckner conductors of the present and recent past (e.g., Abbado, Dohnányi, Harnoncourt, Wand)—as in the Andante, whose grey expanses don’t have quite enough tension to my ears.


The Seventh also goes beautifully, with a singing intensity, transparent textures, and an atmospheric first-movement coda. The Adagio has an attractive quality of breathing spontaneity, and an ear-catching sheer beauty of sound, from the thrilling amplitude of the C-Major climax to the purple-hued low brass in the coda. Schaller captures the Scherzo’s rustic Schwung in rich colors and biting detail, while his finale is less febrile than usual (13:00) with perhaps just a hint of stolidity.


As for the familiar portion of the Ninth, the first movement is beautifully lucid with much absorbing textural detail—for example, in the thickly scored stretches of the exposition’s closing section (Rehearsal G ff.), or the nightmarish march episode inserted into the recapitulation (Rehearsal O ff., A?-Minor). Altogether the music’s keel comes across as slightly too even, including a noticeable tendency to smooth out Bruckner’s injunctions to short articulations (for instance, in the quickening woodwind figure at Rehearsal A, along with the preceding violin motive in quarter notes, mm. 28 ff.). The Scherzo is taken slower, and is less demonic in character, than usual, but still very powerful in its smooth, weighty way. The E-Major Adagio is straight, lucid, and lyrical, well shaped and sonorously imposing, if expressively less febrile than some.


Overall, these are high-quality performances of much distinction, and the rarity of Carragan’s completion makes the set a desirable proposition for Bruckner collectors.


FANFARE: Boyd Pomeroy


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These performances were given at the Ebrach Summer Music Festival as part of the Bruckner Festival in 2007, 2008 and 2010. In co-operation with Bavarian Radio the recordings were made in the glorious setting of the Ebrach Abbey church in Bavaria which on this evidence has a splendid acoustic.

The Philharmonie Festiva may be a new name to many readers. This is a highly accomplished orchestra comprising mainly members of the Munich Bach Soloists augmented by musicians from the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra and the Munich Philharmonic. Taking the baton is Bamberg-born conductor Gerd Schaller who is the founder and musical director of the Ebrach Summer Music Festival.

The performance of the Ninth Symphony contains the first recording of the revised 2010 version of the finale completed by William Carragan. Carragan is a contributing editor of the Anton Bruckner Collected Edition and has prepared a new edition of Bruckner’s Symphony No. 2. From 1979 to 1983 he worked on a finale for the Bruckner Ninth. That first completion can be heard from the Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Yoav Talmi on Chandos CHAN 8468/9 but revisions also followed in 2003 and 2006.

Composed in 1874, the Symphony No. 4 in E flat major, known as the Romantic, has been given wholesale revisions at various times. The 1878/1880 version recorded on this disc has been described by composer and musicologist Robert Simpson as, “ clean and lean”. The memorable opening under Gerd Schaller is marvellously done; immediately convincing. Schaller’s pacing is impressive navigating the flow and broad sweep of the writing with broad assurance. The horns have a significant part throughout and the Philharmonie Festiva brass is in impressive form displaying a burnished tone.

Composed in 1881-83, the Symphony No. 7 in E major is the most popular of Bruckner’s symphonies and it brought the composer the greatest success he had known. It was Arthur Nikisch who conducted the première at Leipzig in 1884. Schaller attains great nobility in a performance that leaves a powerful effect. The orchestral climaxes are remarkable with Schaller astutely building the tension from calm hush to furious climax.

Bruckner was working on his Symphony No. 9 in D minor at the time of his death in 1896. The first three movements were completed with sketches left for a fourth. Bruckner said, “ I have served my purpose of earth; I have done what I could, and there is only one thing I would still like to be granted: the strength to finish my Ninth Symphony.” At Bruckner’s own suggestion the unfinished symphony was often performed with the Te deum serving as the final movement. For this Ebrach Abbey performance Schaller uses the revised 2010 version of the final movement as completed by William Carragan. In this reading I was struck how confidently Schaller demonstrates a real understanding of the score’s structure. There’s a splendid clarity about his reading. In addition I love the way Schaller emphasises the spiritual qualities especially in the gloriously played second movement Adagio.

This is a really impressive release. The engineers have done a remarkable job providing a clear, well-balanced sound. There are decent notes in the booklet. Carragan’s completion of the Ninth Symphony is an added attraction.

-- Michael Cookson, MusicWeb International

BRUCKNER Symphonies: No. 1 (1866 version, ed. Carragan ); No. 2 (1872 version, ed. Carragan) ; No. 3 (1874 version, ed. Carragan) • Gerd Schaller, cond; Philharmonia Festiva • PROFIL PH12022 (3 CDs: 192: 19)


Gerd Schaller and William Carragan want to show us another side to Bruckner. Carragan has edited each of the symphonies, drawing as far as possible on the earliest surviving versions, and Schaller is recording a cycle based on the resulting editions. This is the second of three box sets, the first of which included the Ninth Symphony with Carragan’s completion of the finale.


The editorial issues associated with the first three symphonies are just as thorny. Carragan justifies the project in a liner note essay by saying that these symphonies are best known in their later versions, and that the earlier versions are ripe for reappraisal. That’s a generalization at best; the third may be better known in its later form, but the early versions of the first two symphonies seem to predominate these days.


But how early is early? Carragan contends that most performances of the early versions include later revisions. His edition reproduces, as far as possible, the earliest complete conceptions of these works, which he dates to 1866, 1872, and 1874, respectively. (The most commonly performed ‘early’ versions of the symphonies date from 1877, 1873, and 1876.) It is hard to hear exactly what Bruckner thought fit to revise here. His changes involved evening out the phrase structure and modifying the orchestration. He also extended many passages, especially introductions, and took out the most overt references to Wagner, as well as much of the counterpoint, in the third symphony. Carragan’s most radical departure is to place the Scherzo of the second symphony before the Adagio , but otherwise his edits mainly concern details of counterpoint and orchestration.


None of the alleged flaws seriously impede these early versions. Some passages are more abrupt than we might expect, but each symphony is a work of focused conception and impressive realization. Gerd Schaller gives convincing interpretations. He has a vested interest in Carragan’s work, as the third symphony was edited at his request, and the version receives it premiere recording here.


The only problem is that the conductor’s respect for this scholarship weighs down his readings with an undue sense of reverence. The performances are tightly controlled, with the orchestra always kept on a tight leash. Schaller also holds back on the tempos in almost every movement. Could this be another result of Carragan’s research, or simply a matter of personal taste? Whichever way, it is not a serious problem. In fact, Schaller demonstrates to his more intemperate colleagues that momentum and excitement can be maintained without the need for fast tempos or dynamic extremes. The Scherzo of the first symphony, for example, and the opening of the second, both have all the power and energy they need, despite the relatively slow speeds. The only danger is that the music can sound a little too civilized; classical elegance is an underrated virtue in Bruckner interpretation, but in the finales of each of these symphonies, Schaller is just a little too formal and restrained. Fortunately, the elemental power he can summon from his orchestra for the tuttis and climaxes ensures that nothing ever sounds superficial.


The orchestral playing is excellent throughout, and whatever you might think of either the editions or the interpretations, both are afforded credibility by the commitment of the players. Schaller ensures that ensemble and balance are carefully regulated, so when, for example, the string melody is briefly obscured by the brass in the first symphony Adagio , you can be assured that this is a deliberate and only transitory effect, and so it proves.


These recordings will appeal most to Bruckner specialists with an interest in Carragan’s new editions. The details of his changes are well served by both the precise playing and the patient, controlled conducting. But those looking for an introduction to Bruckner’s early symphonic works—in early or late versions—would probably be better served by more passionate accounts.


FANFARE: Gavin Dixon

After the “flood of the century” the Semperoper resumed limited activities towards the end of 2002. Light was appearing on the horizon, life was going on! The first events took place at the beginning of December, with symphony concerts in which the Staatskapelle performed Anton Bruckner's Eighth Symphony conducted by Bernard Haitink. Expectant audiences were again able to assemble in the opera. The concert of December 3 was broadcast live by MDR; the single recording made of that broadcast forms the basis of this CD.