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'.

De Falla: The Three Cornered Hat, Nights in the Gardens of Spain - Debussy: Images - Chabrier: Espana - Moszkowski: Spanish Dances

The Decca Sound box is a jewel. Martinon's take on the Ibert Divertissement made me jump out of my listening chair and the same thing happened when I put on Ansermet's classic 1961 version of De Falla's Three Cornered Hat. Wow, how this music sparkles and glows! There is a liveliness and truthfulness in this recording that is otherwise reserved for vinyl. It is as if you are standing at Ansermet's desk. The Suisse Romande orchestra fans out around you and all the desks are as crisply audible as you could wish for. The sound is dynamic, spacious, layered, texturally rich and finelly chisseled. And, what is most extraordinary is that the musicians have faces. That is very rare in a CD recording but much more common with LPs. I've never particularly taken to Ansermet, but now I could for the first time appreciate the mastery of his conducting. Although the old maths teacher looks the part of a stodgy Kapellmeister, he is not. To the contrary, the music has plenty of fire whilst maintaining an almost classical poise. Unbelievable that Ansermet was already well beyond 70 when he recorded these works. The 'bonus' on this same disc is a recording of Debussy's Images (the 'bonus' comes on top of the music that is referred to on the original LP sleeves). It's as good, if not better, than any I have heard recently. Again, the recording is stellar with the French composer's awesome mastery of orchestration on hi-fidelity display.

I followed up with a collection of Spain-inspired pieces - Chabrier's Espana and a set of Spanish Dances by Moritz Moszkowski (1854-1925). This is a 1957 Kingsway Hall recording that sounds as fresh and buoyant as if it was recorded yesterday. There is none of the astringency or boxyness that characterises many older recordings. The music is not particularly great but Ataulfo Argenta's reading with the London SO makes for a superbly entertaining intermezzo. Honestly, I'd never heard of this guy but his amazing bio on wikipedia makes for compulsory reading.

Finally, De Falla's nocturnal Gardens with Alicia De Larrocha and Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos leading the London Philharmonic. This is a more recent digital recording from 1983. Clearly a very different sound picture. The crackling freshness has made way for an opulence that I usually associate with the Concertgebouw in their eponymous hall. Needless to say it fits this music - with its dark Rachmaninovian splendour - particularly well. De Larrocha and de Burgos draw us into a world of moody contemplation, eschewing orchestral pyrotechnics in favour of a somberly lyrical take on the score. Just letting this music wash over you, slumped in your listening chair, glass of wine in hand, is a superbly hedonistic indulgence.

De Falla: 7 Canciones Populares Espanolas

My foray in Spanish repertoire continues to pay dividends. Buried in a collection of popular cello pieces issued on the superbudget Brilliant label I found an instrumental version of de Falla's Siete Canciones (billed as Suite populaire Espagnole). Klara Würtz on the piano accompanies the Israeli Timora Rossler on cello. I found it altogether an attractive but rather lightweight piece, remarkably mellifluous and replete with typically Spanish touches. However, a comparison with the original version for voice and piano more forcefully revealed the remarkable qualities of this collection. The voice was Teresa Berganza's accompanied by Juan Antonio Alvarez Parejo on the piano. This too is a Brilliant collection (3CD) that brings together a series of recordings originally issued in the mid-1980s by the Swiss label Claves. This comes 10 years later than the recital I have on a DGG LP but Berganza still sounds fresh and authoritative. The Siete Canciones is only a small part of a wide ranging programme that includes a disc with de Falla's Corregidor, a Spanish recital (encompassing work by Granados, Turina, Guridi - a full version of the Seis Canciones Castellanas - and Toldra) and a disc with Brazilian songs. In the hands of Berganza and her accompanist these de Falla songs transcend the realm of Spanish folklore. The thoughtful Asturiana, in shadowy F minor, jumps out as the emotional centre of gravity of the collection (allegedly Glenn Gould once said if he could be any key, he would be F minor, because "it's rather dour, halfway between complex and stable, between upright and lascivious, between gray and highly tinted...There is a certain obliqueness). When I returned to the version for cello and piano later on, it had gained in stature as well. But my preference remains clearly with the voice.

De Falla: Amor Brujo, El Sombrero de tres Picos, El Corregidor y la Molinera

 Within the realm of the nationalistically inspired, early 20th-century genre, de Falla's ballets stand out. This is music that goes far beyond the 'glorified picture postcards of come-to-sunny Spain' (Constant Lambert). In my opinion it oozes intelligence and an amazingly keen sense of orchestral colour. It is seductive and severe at the same time. There is no indulgence, not a gram of 'fat' in this music. Everything seems to have been thought through up to the tiniest detail. And yet there is this feeling of abundance, of warmth and insouciance.

I have only one version of De Falla's key ballets in my collection and I have been perfectly happy with these early 1970s recordings. The Three-Cornered Hat is performed by the Boston SO under Ozawa, whilst Love the Magician is offered by the LSO conducted by Garcia Navarro. Despite the differences in orchestra and recording venue, the set feels like a whole. Both conductors seem to admirably have captured the spirit of this music. Teresa Berganza's voice in the vocal tracks functions as an additional 'traît d'union'. The recordings are warm and not as sharply contoured as we are used to nowadays but I personally love this kind of old-fashioned sound.

The Corregidor is, in fact, an early pantomime version (1915) of what would become a few years later, at the request of the Ballets Russes' Diaghilev, a full-fledged ballet. It is scored for a small ensemble of about 20 musicians. I listened to a recording by the chamber ensemble established by Josep Pons, who is nowadays Principal Conductor with the Spanish National Orchestra. Those familiar with the Sombrero will not find a lot of suprises. The two scores seem to have an awful lot in common (although I would like to read Carol Hess' assessment; she writes that the material for the Corregidor "assumed an entirely different attitude in the hands of Sergei Diaghilev"). I must say I was not terribly captivated by this recording. Surely the playing seems of a very high standard, with marvelous soloistic contributions throughout. However, the thinner instrumentation reinforces the recording's extreme, close-miked transparancy and as a result the music loses some its essential, seductive character. In addition I was annoyed by the choice of tempos, particularly in the slower pieces. Maybe Pons wanted to maintain (or underscore) the character of a pantomime by taking the numbers at a very deliberate speed. Very soon, however, this comes across as an irritating mannerism.

The Corregidor is complemented on this disc by a strange collection of old Spanish folk songs collected (or re-composed? it's not quite clear) by the poet Federico Garcia Lorca (who was closely acquainted with De Falla). They are performed by Ginesa Ortega, who seems to be a flamenco singer. I don't find it an attractive voice at all. It's likely the point as these songs are in the tradition of the cante jondo (literally: 'deep song') which is seen as the aboriginal Iberian music. Lorca wrote:

The "cante jondo" approaches the rhythm of the birds and the natural music of the black poplar and the waves; it is simple in oldness and style. It is also a rare example of primitive song, the oldest of all Europe, where the ruins of history, the lyrical fragment eaten by the sand, appear live like the first morning of its life.

It seems to be an acquired taste, though. I couldn't really latch on to it.

I've been looking into other work of de Falla. There is not a lot. Altogether he left only a tiny oeuvre. There is of course the Noches en las Jardinas de Espana which I don't have in my collection. In addition the Harpsichord Concerto, the one-act opera La Vida Breve, the puppet opera El Retablo de Maese Pedro and the elusive late magnum opus, the scenic cantata La Atlantida on which he worked for decades but left unfinished. Of the latter there is only an historical recording with Thomas Schippers who conducted the premiere at La Scala.