Beethoven: Symphonies nr. 1-9

Over the past months I have worked through a full Beethoven symphony cycle at a leisurely pace. It started when at the end of October we spent a few days at my parents' place where my father was listening to Beethoven symphonies. I joined him for a Ninth and back at home continued with a cycle of my own. My first selection was a Simax recording of the Eighth by the Swedish Chamber Orchestra led by Tomas Dausgaard. Frankly, I found it hard to stomach. It sounded harsh and bloodless. Like a sportscar brandishing a shiny and lean bodywork but with nothing under the hood. So I switched to an LP with a late 1950s recording of the same work by the Berlin Philharmonic conducted by Eugen Jochum. Immediately I was captivated. So I continued in that same vein and the cycle that emerged looks as follows:

Symphony nr. 1 - Philharmonia Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, 1957
Symphony nr. 2 - NDR Sinfonieorchester, Günter Wand, 1988
Symphony nr. 3 'Eroica' - Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, Georg Solti, 1959
Symphony nr. 4 - Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, Herbert von Karajan, 1962
Symphony nr. 5 - Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, Lorin Maazel, 1958
Symphony nr. 6 'Pastorale' - Orchestra National de France, Rafael Kubelik, 1976 (LP)
Symphony nr. 7 - Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, Karl Böhm, 1958
Symphony nr. 8 - Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, Eugen Jochum, 1959 (LP)
Symphony nr. 9 - Cleveland Orchestra, Christoph von Dohnanyi, 1985

So it transpires that 6 out of 9 were drawn from a 'golden age of stereo recording' between 1958 and 1962. Four happened to be performed by the Berlin Philharmonic, under four different conductors. Three of these recordings were made in the space of just a few months time (Böhm's Seventh was recorded in April 1958, Jochum's Eighth early May and Maazel followed suit with his Fifth in May and June of that same year!). 

I did not listen in numerical order but chronologically jumped to and fro. The highlight of the cycle was, perhaps, Böhm's Seventh which is a glorious reading captured in a sound that is astonishingly lively and rich for the era. It's a grand and luxurious approach but one that does justice to the unflagging energy that pervades this work. Another great recording is Wand's Second. This is a more recent interpretation but still very traditional. Still, I couldn't care less as Wand's grasp of the architecture is awe-inspiring. Listening to this interpretation just feels very right. I haven't heard any of the other recordings in his NDR-cycle but I expect this to be quite rewarding.

Very good also was Karajan's Fourth in his second rendering of the complete cycle, from 1962. Despite its apollinian credentials I was struck by the nervous energy that radiates from this recording. Contrary to what might be expected, I had a similar impression from Klemperer's fleet-footed and authoritative First. I also liked Solti's Eroica which struck me as rather Kapellmeisterisch, but in a good sense. No histrionics, but a solid and contained reading that one is tempted to revisit. Also the sound of this 1958 tape is very good with the 'nutty', 'earthy' character of the Vienna PO wel captured. I acquired Jochum's Eighth, in a cheap LP pressing for DGG's Resonance series, very early on in my musical explorations and so I'm very familiar with it. Still I haven't tired of this lean and boisterous reading. Also commendable is Dohnanyi's Ninth with the Cleveland Orchestra and a fine quartet of soloists. The music's drive is slightly blunted by Telarc's characteristically soft-grained recording but the overall effect is of an invigorating, timeless classicism.

The young Lorin Maazel recorded a heaven-storming Fifth with the distinguished Berlin Philharmonic. At the time it was damned by the critics because of its expressive idiosyncracies but today we'd say that Maazel was ahead of his time. Still, I felt unconvinced by this effort. The low point of the cycle was Kubelik's Pastoral with the Orchestra National de France. It is part of a LP box with a full cycle, of which each symphony is played by another orchestra. The opening movement is beguiling enough, played by Kubelik with an almost Bohemian generosity. But in the Andante (Scene by the Brook) all momentum is lost and even the Storm is not able to quicken the pulse. At the end the impression is one of overwhelming boredom.

After such a long time away from Beethoven, it was a fascinating journey. The music sounded genuinely fresh and often I was struck by Beethoven's modernity. There is a primitivist streak in this music which bursts out in obsessive rhythms or withdraws in extended, murky transitions (though never, it seems, gratuitous but with a deeper musical logic underpinning them). Listening through this cycle also confirmed that good music-making is timeless and whether it is branded 'traditional' or 'historically informed' doesn't matter in the least.

Brahms: Symphony nr. 2

The recording that has spooked around in my head a lot of the time the past few weeks is a 1977 recording of Brahms' Second. It is one of Stokowski's very late recordings - the symphony was taped in the spring and the man died in the fall of that same year - but it doesn't sound at all as if a 95-year old stood on the rostrum. To the contrary, this is a reading with a very energetic pulse, though never aggressive. There are none of the quirks we are associating with this conductor. The playing has poise and flourishes vibrant autumnal colours, avoiding the shrill melodrama that tends to mar symphonic Brahms. As I said, I have been carrying this music around for a while now. Not even the splended Mahler Seventh I heard in a live performance yesterday seems to be able to dislodge it from my mind.

This recording has been previously issued (by Cala) but is now repackaged in a budget-priced 10 CD box with Stokowski's stereophonic recordings for CBS from the early 1960s onwards.

Mahler: Symphony nr. 7

I'm crawling back into the blogging routine after an unusually long break. It just happened. I 'fell out of music' and my spare energy and attention were to a significant extent redirected to everything connected to ... cycling. So I have listened, but really very little. The concert season took off with a flourish but without me. Yesterday was the first time back in the Henry Le Boeuf hall at Bozar. But it was a joyous occasion and it has given me the impetus to pick up the thread of my listening diary again.

Yesterday night's program consisted of a single work, Mahler's Seventh. If I'm looking back over my blogging notes of the last two years it is certainly the Mahler symphony I spent most time with. On the podium was DeFilharmonie (the former Royal Flanders Philharmonic) led by their chief conductor Edo De Waart. I've always had a soft spot for this orchestra with which I have been associated, many years ago, as a program notes writer. But I haven't consistently followed them over the years, However, with Edo De Waart they have engaged a superbly experienced chef and I was curious to hear how the orchestra responded.

The Bozar main hall wasn't even half filled for this concert. Is it just because we were in Brussels where DeFilharmonie has only a skimpy following? Or is it a sign of the times that you can't even get a hall filled for such a complex and magnificent work as the Seventh? No idea, but somebody (the Bozar, the orchestra, tax payers) must have lost an awful lot of money on this evening.

Anyway, the orchestra didn't take it personally and they played their butts off in a wonderful reading. I was sitting in my favourite seat in the 'fauteilles de loge' on top of the ensemble. Again I was mesmerized by the myriads of details you can be part of from that privileged viewpoint: the concentration and quiet professionalism of the musicians, how they hold their instruments when they're not playing, the way the first horn blows her flatterzunge, the blush that appears on the mandoline player's cheeks when her solo is approaching, ... It's a feast to the eyes and ears. Of course, I also had a first rate view on De Waart shepherding his orchestra through this hypercomplex score. His gestures are energetic but unostentatious. A professional orchestra builder. You can see that.

In another post I suggested that interpretations of this work roughly fall into two categories: the romantic (Sinopoli, Abbado, Chailly) and the classical (Solti, Scherchen, Gielen). Both can be very satisfactory. A litmus test is maybe how the rondo finale fits in. Paradoxically, romanticists usually have more difficulties in giving it a place whilst classicists seem to have no qualms with this rambunctious symphonic extravaganza. De Waart quite clearly embraced the classicist approach, with finely judged but rather brisk tempos and an analytic perspective guided by clear lines, textures and volumes. The performance was kaleidoscopic yet coherent, objective and humane, virile and tender. Quintessentially Mahlerian, I would say. The orchestra played gloriously. The countless solos and mini-ensemble pieces were a delight as were the stormy tuttis. It all flowed seamlessly and vibrantly into an amazing, panoramic tapestry of music.

Soon De Waart and DeFilharmonie will perform another major neo-romantic masterpiece: Elgar's Dream of Gerontius. I must not forget to book tickets for that.