Bruckner: Symphony no 5 Lucerne Festival Orchestra/Claudio Abbado (Accentus DVD)
This is a remarkable performance of a famously intractable work. You may think you can cope with the massive scale of Bruckner’s final three symphonies, but the Fifth always seems to me the most unwieldy. The gear shifts, the changes of dynamic from pianissimo to ear-splittingly loud seem more pronounced than ever. And the tunes are starker, less ingratiating. Claudio Abbado’s pacing, his shrewd handling of structure are rock solid, and he does make the piece sing, cohere in a way that I’ve not heard before. Abbado doesn’t smooth over the rough edges, but manages to make each jolting mood change sound organic and natural. The Adagio emerges resplendent – you can believe that you’re listening to the best slow movement that Bruckner ever wrote. The end of the last movement is glorious – the brass chorale thrillingly loud, but never overwhelming the strings. And listen out for the rising flute figure which Igor Toronyi-Lalic noticed when this team played in London last year.
As an audio CD this would be an essential purchase; Michael Beyer’s sensitive, unfussy video direction works hard to present this work in a favourable light. Abbado’s serene countenance and subtlety of gesture make an entertaining contrast with his Lucerne players. They don’t smile much until they’re past the closing bars – Bruckner symphonies are famously exhausting to play, and there are long stretches where there’s not an enormous amount to look at. Abbado’s double bass players have the air of patients in a dentist’s waiting room before root-canal work. The heroic brass section look collectively exhausted. But it all sounds magnificent; this must be the world’s classiest pick-up orchestra.
Abbado conducts Bruckner 5
Mahler: Symphony no 1 Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra/Myung-Whun Chung (DG)
There’s nothing to dislike in this cleanly recorded, immaculately played Mahler 1 taped in Seoul, but there’s nothing especially distinctive either. It’s pretty good – for a live recording, the playing is impeccable. The sound is impressive – plenty of depth without any loss of detail. This has to be the most precocious of first symphonies, and the eeriness of the opening is nicely caught here; a single note spread out over multiple octaves. You can imagine the bafflement of early audiences as this mood of sublime spookiness melts into one of Mahler’s clunkiest, folkiest themes. Chung is excellent in the first movement’s glacial development, where all sense of harmony and pace evaporate before soft horn fanfares bring the music back to earth. The emphasis on refinement, on delicacy, means that the scherzo sounds a little too urbane and well-mannered.
Mahler’s bizarre third movement does comes to life here, helped by sleazy trumpet playing and phrasing which really accentuates the music’s klezmer origins. The sprawling finale needs to sound wild and unhinged, and the movement’s opening is suitably apocalyptic. But Chung knits things together a little too easily and the close feels slightly perfunctory. Despite the beauty of the playing, I craved a little more grit and savagery. This is an attractive performance, but it doesn’t displace those by the likes of Bernstein, Solti or Abbado.
Arvo Pärt: Creator Spiritus NYYD Quartet, Theatre of Voices, Ars Nova Copenhagen/Paul Hillier (Harmonia Mundi)
I was underwhelmed by Arvo Pärt’s recent Fourth Symphony; there, the lack of incident couldn’t help sounding a little dull. Happily, this anthology has re-energised my enthusiasm for this most peculiar of contemporary composers. Pärt’s vocal music invariably succeeds; the colour, the humanity of massed voices breathing warmth and cool sensuality into the notes. Paul Hillier’s selection is described as a chamber music collection, featuring several instrumental works alongside chamber scale as choral works. You can ponder for hours exactly what gives this music its appeal; Pärt’s gift lies in his ability to convey so much with so little. The spaces between the notes speak volumes. You could analyse several of these pieces and marvel at the sheer lack of event. Invariably the results approach the sublime – sample the tiny, recent Veni Creator, where the opening major chord is effortlessly, inventively extended for three minutes. Or The Deer’s Cry, a restrained setting of a text by St Patrick. Ars Nova Copenhagen’s glorious singing will elicit shivers of delight.
Of the string quartet works, Solfeggio, a recent transcription of a 1963 choral work, fascinates as an example of Pärt’s earlier style; attractive, though less euphonious and more academic. You’ll need this disc for a rare recording of the extended Stabat Mater of 1986, unusually scored for three solo singers and string trio. Pärt’s decision to combine soprano, counter-tenor and tenor lends the music a unique colour, and the string writing is perfectly judged. Light relief of sorts is provided by soprano Else Torp’s gorgeous delivery of a Robbie Burns poem. Again, it’s impossible to understand how such a bald setting exerts such an insidious, seductive grip. As an introduction to Pärt’s world, this could hardly be bettered.
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