Tchaikovsky: String Quartet nr. 1 - Shostakovich: String Quartet nr. 7 - Schubert: String Quartet nr. 14

On Thursday the Pavel Haas Quartet was passing through Brussels. I've been mightily impressed by their recordings of the Janacek and Prokofiev quartets. Together with the Belcea Quartet they count amongst my favourite ensembles. Although I really can't point out an obvious shortcoming from the Quartet's side, this concert didn't quite capture my imagination. Maybe I was preoccupied, maybe it was the uncharacteristically unfocused and restless audience, maybe even it was the Conservatoire hall's acoustics which are generally generous towards chamber ensembles but now seemed to rob the Haas from the filigree textures and wonderful plasticity I've come to expect from them. They didn't sound as softly grained as the Jerusalem, and not as marvelously layered as the Belcea. On the whole the Haas' tone struck me as full-bodied and virile, but also a trifle prosaic. Maybe it was also the dynamics amongst the quartet members, which didn't seem to communicate overly generously amongst themselves. Or maybe it was just the repertoire. The highlight was Shostakovich's Seventh Quartet (op. 108; 1960), which is sadly also his shortest. It is dedicated to his wife Nina, in memoriam. In its combination of terseness, wistfulness and violence it's characteristic for Shostakovich's later work. The Haas' X-ray like reading went to the bone, unlike the Jerusalem's more cultured and cosmetic approach to the Tenth Quartet a few weeks ago. Tchaikovsky's String Quartet nr. 1, op. 11 was the first piece on the menu. Although it's a lovely piece in its own right, it's not really the kind of music I'm now tuned into. But the first movement impressed me by its lyrical ebullience and it's hard not to fall, at least for a moment, under the spell of the warmhearted Andante cantabile. In the Scherzo my thoughts started to drift however, and they didn't regroup until the lacklustre applause at the end of the piece. After the break we heard Schubert's most loved quartet, his Death and the Maiden (D810; 1824). I must say it is a work that for some reason I have never been able to fully embrace. And that didn't change on Thursday night, whatever the merits of the Haas Quartet's performance. As an encore we were treated to the slow second movement of Dvorak's American Quartet.

Anima Eterna - Symphonic Silver

A couple of weeks ago DD, a reader of this listening diary, sent me a complimentary LP, issued in a limited edition of 500 copies (mine is nr. 28) on the occasion of Anima Eterna Brugge's silver jubilee. The luxurious and lavishly decorated double sleeve album was personally signed by Jos van Immerseel, the orchestra's conductor and tireless 'animator'. A very friendly gesture of both sender and signer, for which many thanks!

I must confess that Anima appeared on my radar only at a fairly late stage in their existence. It was their Beethoven set, recorded in 2005 for the Zig-Zag label that struck me more or less like a bolt from the blue. Up to that point I had been rather sceptical about the whole HIP movement, but van Immerseel with his Beethoven finally convinced me to embrace what period performance had to offer. That doesn't mean that I'm going along in their conception of 'authenticity' which, for me as a listener (and not as a music scholar), is largely besides the point. Being true to the spirit of the music is for me much more important than being true to the text. (Here I'm reminded again of that Debussy encore by Horowitz that I listened to last week. In his superslow rendering of the Serenade for the Doll, he must have taken terrific liberties with the score. And it was performed on a Steinway and not an Erard to boot. But who cares when this trifle nestles itself in your brain and mercilessly haunts you for a week on end!) It's an endless debate, of course, and we're not going to resolve it here. Suffice it to say that for me it is immaterial on which instrument a piece is played as long as it speaks to me as a human being. Or think about it this way: what a priceless legacy would we lose if everything that was recorded by traditionalists would simply be binned on the grounds that it didn't meet requisite criteria for 'authenticity'? That wouldn't make sense at all, wouldn't it?

van Immerseel's Beethoven was very good and his Berlioz Symphonie Fantastique was an utter revelation. I wrote a glowing Amazon review about this recording of which I'm still very fond. Sadly I have not yet been able to investigate other Anima Eterna recordings. I seem to remember that Robert Redford, in a column for Gramophone magazine, picked the orchestra's recording of Ravel's Boléro as his most treasured disc. I also would love to hear their Strauss, Liszt and Rimsky recordings. It will come, in due time. These days, Anima is touring with a Debussy programme which I sadly missed when they performed it in Brussels and Antwerp. Unfortunately there seem to be no plans to record it.

What I appreciate first and foremost in the van Immerseel/Anima Eterna recordings I know is a compelling view of 'the whole'. It's in my opinion a minimum requirement for any performance that aims for the status of greatness. If the overall architecture isn't right, then scrupulous attention to authentic detail won't save it (Debussy's music may be a terrific exception to this rule, as I tried to argue rather helplessly in my exchange with Mark DeVoto). And then there is the typical bonus that comes with period performance in the form of lean textures, crisp articulation and an overall more transparant sonic image. Luckily van Immerseel steers a middle course between the lushness of traditional performances and the brutish attacks of iconoclasts such as René Jacobs and Giovanni Antonini for whom textural ugliness seems to be a virtue. Anima Eterna produces a quite beautiful, sophisticated sound and there is a distinctive and beguiling earthiness to it that I'm not hearing anywhere else. This 'middle course', however, does not imply that van Immerseel's interpretations aim for a safe middle ground. I seem to notice that his recordings elicit very polarised reviews.The contrast between these two assessments of Anima's recent Poulenc disc is quite typical. I seem to think that van Immerseel is not too unhappy with this state of affairs.

The LP features a potpourri of pieces, from the early baroque to the 20th century, to illustrate the orchestra's breadth of repertoire. Some are excerpts from albums that have been issued earlier on Channel Classics (Mozart's piano concertos) and Zig-Zag (the Beethoven symphonies, the Poulenc concerto for two pianos). But the LP includes two unreleased tracks: a live recording of De Falla's Fire Dance (from Amor Brujo) and the finale from Schubert's Second Symphony from an archived studio recording. What, surprisingly, struck me most from the pieces included is an excerpt (Klaglied) from an early (1994) recording of a Buxtehude cantata (Mit Fried und Freud, ich fahr dahin, Bux WV 76) with the Collegium Vocale Gent. Limpid, harmonically rich but most effective in its simplicity it touched a nerve. It went straight onto my wishlist. Beyond the Buxtehude there is much to enjoy. I liked the measured approach to the Fire Dance a lot (as I did appreciate the deceptively leisurely take on Berlioz' Marche au supplice). Anima turned it from just another orchestral spectacular into a compelling study in colours and rhythms. The fiery Schubert finale is another highlight. I'm not so sure what to think of the Larghetto taken from the Poulenc double concerto. The sonic signature is very different from other Anima recordings, with the orchestra and soloists recorded as if from a rather great distance. In combination with the 'watery' sound of the two Erard pianos this creates a dreamy atmosphere as if we are hearing the piece in half-sleep. Finally, I've never investigated van Immerseel's take on the Mozart piano concertos. This was the recording project that brought him and the orchestra an international audience. But judging from the Allegro from KV 450 I seem to understand better what all the fuss at the time was about. If Channel Classics could be persuaded to re-issue the full set at an affordable price, I'd jump on it.

The technical quality of the LP is very good. I did an A/B comparison with the CD recording of the Beethoven Prometheus overture and the LP seems marginally more lively. Again, thanks for this generous treat to 'symphonic silver'.

J.S. Bach: Partita nr. 1 - Schubert: Piano Sonata nr. 21 - Chopin: Etudes op. 25

This week we were in a quiet place, spending time outdoors and discussing the future with friends and colleagues. There was hardly an opportunity to listen to music, but then I didn't feel like we missed something. All the more so as I had been stocking up on rich musical impressions at two live concerts just before we left. On Thursday (Feb 16th) I was graciously invited to attend a solo piano recital at Bozar featuring Lang Lang. I didn't know what to expect as I hadn't heard anything by this controversial musician. A genuine, larger-than-life artist or a billow of marketing-driven hot air? I had no idea. His eagerness to play the superstar role, however, raised my suspicions (reminding me of that other enfant terrible I've never been able to really take seriously, Nigel Kennedy). So there we were in a chock-full Henry Le Boeuf Hall with more than 2000 people in eager and noisy attendance (with a contingent of 150 seated at the podium facing the main hall). The good and great were amply represented. At the cloakroom I ran into Viviane Reding, Vice-President of the European Commission, and Commissioner for Justice, Fundamental Rights and Citizenship, but in my haste sadly forgot to wisper her a word of caution as the spirit of the European project potentially derails under the iron grip of a blind oligarchy. Lang Lang had a Bozar spokesperson especially request a silent demeanour (no coughing, no cell phones) by the audience during the performance. It proved to be fruitless because as the concert unfolded the audience became more and more difficult to restrain. There was plenty of coughing from the start and after the break, the Chopin Etudes were interrupted three times by clamorous applause. And in the final Etude there was indeed a cell phone that (as I experienced it) artlessly and interminably brought the concert to a premature end. But despite those intrusions it was a memorable concert. And then I'm thinking particularly of that great, last Schubert sonata (D. 960) which Lang Lang presented as the story of a life compressed in just 40 minutes. Despite the almost unbearable tension in the hall brought about by an audience that was anxiously trying to gutturally restrain itself, Lang Lang made no concessions and played this valedictory sonata in the most intimate manner, taking his time to sculpt every note and colour every chord in the most exquisite manner. It was quite obvious that here is a pianist with prodigious technical powers, whose musical imagination is the only limit to what his artistry is able to produce. His Bach Partita surprised me by its old-fashionedness, eschewing the percussive clarity that is nowadays 'de rigeur', occasionally meshing the voices, stressing the legato character and indulging in a rich, creamy rubato. I'm personally not offended by a romantic, lyrical interpretation of Bach's keyboard works and happily took it in stride, intrigued as I was by the remarkable technical facility displayed by the pianist. What also surprised me was Lang Lang's sober mien behind the keyboard with very little of the histrionics that for some reason I was led to expect. By the time he broached the Chopin Etudes - which he has been playing since he was 13 - there was no doubt Lang Lang was up to the task. However, for me Chopin's opus 25 needs to be played in one sweep in order to reveal the almost symphonic architecture underpinning this monumental piece. That, rather than the endless possbilities for virtuoso display is what makes this such a compelling experience. With all the audience interruptions Lang Lang's performance, whatever its merits, became for me rather pointless. As said, the unquestionable highlight of the evening was in my opinion a truly great Schubert sonata. Perhaps too meandering and disjointed for some tastes, but I still marvel at Lang Lang's amazing colouristic abilities, conjuring washes of colour with a sleight of hand. Again, there is no doubt that this is an artist of extraordinary abilities. The risk is, I feel, that these capabilities do not find a sufficiently disciplined and deeply rooted vessel to contain them. Lang Lang's art is rich, very rich and at a certain point this opulence may teeter into the manierist, the facile or simply the bombastic. As a kind of litmus test I'd love to hear him in Debussy where the ascetic and the luxuriant seamlessly mesh. Will he be able to keep the 'juste milieu'? After the concert the affable star was signing autographs in the Bozar shop. I asked him and he said eventually he will be happy to record some Debussy. May take a while, though. Meanwhile we'll follow with interest. Thanks again to KDK and WVDH for the treat.

Schubert: Symphony nr. 8

I've just returned from a week in India where I barely sought access to music. I'm surprised myself by the fact that I'm deriving less and less satisfaction from listening on the road. Apparently I have enough with the music that is going on in my head. Or I am so spoiled by the stellar sound emitted by my hifi setup that the mediocre quality from my AKG travel headphones irks me. Anyway, whilst I was eager to indulge in some listening tonight, for all kinds of reasons I didn't feel like French repertoire. I turned to Schubert's Unfinished (D 759, 1822) instead. Kleiber's reading is a fixture in the catalogue although it is not generally seen as one of his greatest recordings. Some think it is too driven and this Amazon reviewer has some very acute observations on what seems like a rather monodimensional take on this perennial classic.

I listened to the LP first (in its original 1979 pressing) and had mixed feelings about it. Kleiber's approach is grandiloquent and even funereal (no problem with that) but at times it tilts into the static and somnolent. As the Amazon reviewer remarks, the pianissimos in this recording are really very quiet which makes the sforzando outbursts even more terrifying of course. But the downside, I found, is that the energy tends to sag a little in the quieter episodes.That being said, the VPO play startlingly beautifully and there is a lot to admire. The sound is particularly good, with an dark, earthy, burnished palette that fits the music superbly well. The soundstage is broad, the orchestra groups are nicely terraced and the solos very characterful. As with the String Quintet I could hear snippets of proto-Mahler, particularly in the almost Bohemian sounding wind choirs and in the overall 'Trauermarsch'-character of the second movement. In the Andante con moto's coda there is even a bar or two that  glances ahead to Mahler's Ninth.

Turning to the CD transfer, I was struck, once more, by the substantial difference between the two media. Relistening to the Andante I noticed how brightly lit and nervous it had become. Yes, there was more momentum in this reading but at the cost of an unpalatable agressiveness in the tutti. The CD made me empathise with commentators who were not enamoured with Kleiber's Toscanini-like swagger. So back to the vinyl which felt on the whole as a much more balanced and palatable reading, despite some of the misgivings pointed out above. Now, I have to make a proviso as it is also possible that some of flatness I experienced in the quiet passages is due to the fact that my Michell Gyrodec's speed is slightly under spec. I've been suspecting this for a while but I haven't had the opportunity to confirm this. I timed the second movement's duration on the LP at 11'08" whilst the sleeve indicates 10'31" and the CD booklet mentions 10'42". I have no idea whether this 20 to 30 second difference is significant (in terms of being on the 33 rpm spec or not) and, if it was, whether that would affect my experience of the music.

Haydn: String Quartet op. 77 nr.1 - Beethoven: String Quartet op. 95 'Serioso' - Schubert: String Quintet D 956

We were really spoiled this week as on Thursday we had the Belcea Quartet performing at the Brussels Conservatorium. Personally I feel this is one of the finest chamber ensembles around. They didn't disappoint in this choice Viennese programme. The Conservatoire was packed but as is customary this was a very disciplined audience that seems to know why it is spending time in a concert hall. The rapt concentration and the relatively small hall created an ambience of wonderful intimacy. The Haydn quartet (which I hadn't heard before) came off very well. What struck me was the relaxed, almost friendly energy that radiates from the group. The music seemed to emerge almost effortlessly. It sounded like the image that is projected by a Zeiss lens: there was wonderfully luminous microdetail, clearly etched but soft contours and a holographic sense of musical lines meshing with one another. It's not spectacular but musically deeply satisfying. Corina Belcea leads as a genuine 'primus inter pares' (and a ravishing appearance she is too). Her violin soars but not to put her colleagues in the shadow but to stretch a broader canvas for them. This is quartet playing as it should be.

The Beethoven quartet came off slightly less successfully I thought. I have the more assertive (maybe even aggressive) rendition of the Artemis Quartet in my ears and for this 'angry' Beethoven piece this is perhaps more appropriate than the somewhat softer grained approach of the Belcea. Anyway, we were listening to what is still a very good performance.

After the break came the Schubert String Quintet in C, with Valentin Erben (ex-Alban Berg) taking the second cello part (as he did on the Belcea's 2009 recording of this piece). Again, I didn't know the Schubert so I had to listen with unprepared ears. Schubert is a composer I still have to discover. Certainly, I have an inkling of what Schubert stands for and it is not an idiom that I am immediately attracted to. There is a simplicity at the heart of Schubert's music, it seems to me, that attracts and leaves me cold at the same time. I love an architectural conception of music. Music that is 'durchkomponiert'. That's why I like Bartok. That's why I am intrigued but also suspicious of Debussy who made it look like his music was not 'composed' at all whilst lavishing the greatest care on the most minute detail of its architectural conception. Schubert throws a single chord at you and immediately one is taken off guard by a complex emotional vista. The Quintet is no exception. It's a very late piece, in fact the last chamber composition Schubert was able to finish two months before his untimely death. It has an otherworldly atmosphere similar to the late piano sonatas. As in those sonatas, Schubert takes the time to develop his musical material: the work takes over 50 minutes! The work didn't strike me as difficult, however. There's a lot of repetition so it's easy to follow (compared to the Beethoven Serioso where there is no repetition at all). The cumulative impact of this long piece, however, is quite extraordinary. One really has the experience of a journey to the edge. It is often said that the quintet's finale, with it's earthbound, schmaltzy character, doesn't seem to belong. It most certainly does belong and the merrymaking is all the more poignant given the seriousness of what went before. Yves Knockaert thought in his spoken introduction before the concert that Schubert grasped back to Haydn in this finale. But I don't hear Haydn; I hear Mahler there, and certainly Bruckner, and in the final bars we are getting a glimpse of the territory that Mahler reconnoitered in this valedictory symphony and that was further explored by the Second Viennese School. In that sense the Belcea's reading was certainly revelatory. I was so impressed by their maturity and humanity. This is true, timeless artistry.