Critic’s Notebook: Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 4

Also published in Die Presse: Konzerthaus: Chor Hui, Horn Pfui – Sängerische Götterfunken zum Beethoven-Abschluss

L.v.Beethoven, Symphonies 1-5 J.Savall, Le Concert des Nations Alia Vox SACDs

L.v.Beethoven, Symphonies 1-5 J.Savall, Le Concert des Nations Alia Vox SACDs

Choir Yay, Horn Nay – Divine Sparks to End the Beethoven Cycle

A grand – and long! – finale to the Beethoven cycle of Le Concert des Nations under Jordi Savall with Symphonies Nos. 8 & 9.

Historic, indeed, this first historically informed Beethoven cycle on period instruments at the Konzerthaus, which came to its fire-drunken conclusion on Thursday evening with Symphonies No. 8 and 9.

Rough and energetic was the entrance into Op. 93; one could almost glimpse the Flying Dutchman in the first movement, or premonitions of the Ninth. And yet it’s just the – ever-so-sprightly – little Eighth, languishing in its neglected place between the Seventh, “Apotheosis of the Dance”, and the über-Symphony, "The Ninth", that overshadows all.

Beauty of sound and orchestral color were not this ensemble’s priorities, on this occasion. Rather rhythmic urgency and raw energy are its strengths – at least in this Beethoven cycle. That a certain nervous tension creeps in from time to time is understandable.

Accordingly thunderous was the dramatic opening of the Ninth; the second movement hurried along more with speed than tension.

The Concert des Nations' Beethoven Symphony Cycle reviewed: Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 1: A Squawking First Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 2: A Tale of two Halfs Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 3: Nearly Ideal Beethoven

Before the third movement, the latecomers – chorus, soloists, piccolo, creaky contrabassoon – entered the stage, and with them the black day of the horn player, whose downward spiral had already begun in the Eighth. A reminder, should one be needed, that even 75 years into the period performance movement, success on that instrument is never guaranteed.

Sensibly, the soloists were positioned at the front of the stage. Full-bodied and dramatic: bass Manuel Walser; the rest – unremarkable, which in the Ninth, especially with the ladies, is usually a good sign. Outshining them all was the chorus.

Just 36 voices, and yet they filled the Grosser Saal with an ease and volume, a physically palpable joy, enthusiasm, and energy that one had been hoping for from the orchestra for eight and a half symphonies. That was the foundation of the audience’s roaring enthusiasm. Ask ChatGPT
Follow @ClassicalCritic

Critic’s Notebook: Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 3

Also published in Die Presse: Konzerthaus: Beethoven, fast ideal unter Jordi Savall

L.v.Beethoven, Symphonies 1-5 J.Savall, Le Concert des Nations Alia Vox SACDs

L.v.Beethoven, Symphonies 1-5 J.Savall, Le Concert des Nations Alia Vox SACDs

Near-Ideal Beethoven from Jordi Savall at the Konzerthaus

The third concert in the Beethoven cycle raises questions of venue – and musical standards. Here with Symphonies Nos. 1, 2 & 4.

The historically informed Beethoven cycle at the Konzerthaus entered its third and penultimate round Tuesday evening, June 24th, following two concerts back in February. This time: Symphonies One, Two, and Four. A quick peek into the archive: Apart from the Fourth – played in 2016 by the Orchestre des Champs-Élysées under Philippe Herreweghe – it was the first time these symphonies had ever been performed at the Konzerthaus by an original instruments ensemble. Remarkable.

After the last two concerts got off to low-octane starts only to rev up in the second halves, Symphony No. 1 hit the ground running. The first movement purred along with light-footed energy; the third was taken headlong, borderline hectic. The fourth movement begins with one of Beethoven’s most imaginative openings: the music takes five false starts – each getting a bit further, a bit higher – until on the sixth try it finally breaks through and takes off. Plenty of room for interpretive flair. Savall kept things tight in the buildup, then almost came to a hault from which he launched, casually and swiftly.

A common thread through all three symphonies: the timpanist. Snappy, pungent entries that added to the volatility of these performances. Likewise the strings – alert and springy, notes played on the balls of their feet, always driving forward. Intonation and rhythmic steadiness are near-guaranteed with Le Concert des Nations; only in the Fourth Symphony did things briefly go sideways, especially in the second movement – short-lived, but jarring. The cheerful clatter of the woodwind keys probably bothered no one; in the first movement, the insistent rhythmic pounding sounded like Beethoven nailing his manifesto to the gate of Romanticism.

The Concert des Nations' Beethoven Symphony Cycle reviewed: Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 1: A Squawking First Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 2: A Tale of two Halfs Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 4: Choir Yay, Horn Nay

Symphony No. 2 – described in Leipzig in 1804, not flatteringly, as “a monster that writhes for a full hour in contortions and lashes about with its tail, for no apparent reason” – didn’t last an hour here, thank goodness, but still felt long. Mostly due to a somewhat sluggish Larghetto. The Allegro, though, skittered along on spidery legs, giving way to a taut, sharply drawn finale that ticked all the boxes. And yet – there was something subtly unsatisfying in the air, inviting investigation.

Why did everything feel so darn tasteful, so bloody correct – and why did the effect still fall short of what one expects from such performances? Why did all that energy poured into the music dissipate so quickly? Was it the relaxed quality – the ease, despite all the engagement – with which the ensemble played? More likely: it was the room. The sheer physical impact of this music doesn’t quite carry across the distance of the Grosser Saal. The dream – as unprofitable as it is unrealistic – would be to hear these very performances in the Mozart Saal. But you can’t have everything. Beethoven’s final symphonies follow this evening.

Follow @ClassicalCritic

Critic’s Notebook: Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 2

Also published in Die Presse: Konzerthaus: Jordi Savall mit Dr. Ludwig und Mr. Beethoven

L.v.Beethoven, Symphonies 1-5 J.Savall, Le Concert des Nations Alia Vox SACDs

L.v.Beethoven, Symphonies 1-5 J.Savall, Le Concert des Nations Alia Vox SACDs

A Tale of Two Orchestras

The Strange Case of Dr. Ludwig and Mr. Beethoven at the Konzerthaus. Here with Symphonies Nos. 6 & 7.

Beethoven before and after the interval — seemingly two different orchestras. And yet, in the end, Jordi Savall and Le Concert des Nations do more to delight with their symphony cycle than they do to disappoint. In the second iteration of the second concert in Jordi Savall’s Beethoven cycle with Le Concert des Nations, it was the Sixth and Seventh Symphonies’ turn. And again: another hard-to-believe first. It was the first time Beethoven’s Seventh had ever been performed at the Konzerthaus on period instruments. The Sixth had made one previous appearance — in that aforementioned concert nearly 30 years ago, where Simon Rattle (!) had als conducted the Eroica with the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment. In many ways, it was déjà vu from the night before: a disappointing first half, a redeeming second.

Awakening of cheerful feelings upon arrival of the winds — woodwinds and brass alike — were in short supply in the Pastorale, even if the wobblier players managed to hide a little more effectively behind the string foliage. Savall’s fundamentally relaxed approach either suits the Pastoral perfectly — at least in the babbling brook. Or, depending on one’s taste, it misses the mark by failing to provide the very edge that this bucolic-leaning symphony sometimes needs.

The Concert des Nations' Beethoven Symphony Cycle reviewed: Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 1: A Squawking First Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 3: Nearly Ideal Beethoven Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 4: Choir Yay, Horn Nay

Yes, the triplets in the first movement were untidy, and the tempo briefly went rogue, but one could have overlooked that charitably. Not the least because the second movement brought hope: delicately shaped notes, like ants scurrying across a picnic blanket. The thunderstorm that followed was more polite heat-lightning than an actual tempest: Even in the front row, no one would have gotten wet — but for the first time that evening, the ensemblework was all together. That, alas, didn’t last. By the fourth movement, it was back to business as usual — meaning back to the sour tuning: as if the winds had been tuned in meantone and the rest of the orchestra in equal temperament.

During intermission, Savall swapped out the horn section and brought in a fresh set of younger players. A bold choice, given the tricky horn parts in the Seventh — but one that paid off. And not just in the horns: everyone seemed a notch better in the second half. Marc Hantaï on flute, the oboes, and yes, the young horn pups (though in their enthusiasm, the second horn briefly outshone the first) all rose to the challenge. The Marcia funebre was deeply moving, not least due to its (presumably unintended) sense of distance. The clarinets suddenly deserved special praise. Presto and Allegro con brio piled on yet more momentum — as if this were an orchestra that simply shouldn’t be allowed to play slowly. Suddenly, there was dynamic range, too. And one was left scratching one's head: why the slow start? Then again, in Spain, things don’t really get going until nine o’clock anyway. In the end all’s well that ends well. Minutes of standing ovations. Apparently, there’s still real thirst for good period performances.
Follow @ClassicalCritic

Critic’s Notebook: Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 1

Also published in Die Presse: Jordi Savall und die Tücken des Originalklangs

L.v.Beethoven, Symphonies 1-5 J.Savall, Le Concert des Nations Alia Vox SACDs

L.v.Beethoven, Symphonies 1-5 J.Savall, Le Concert des Nations Alia Vox SACDs

Squawk, Scratch, and Contrabassoon

Jordi Savall conducts a Beethoven symphony cycle on period instruments at the Konzerthaus. Unbelievably, a first. Here with Symphonies Nos. 3 & 5.

A "Beethoven symphony cycle". Well, that doesn’t exactly send shivers down one’s spine anymore. We’re practically tripping over the things. Every other week, it seems, someone’s cycling through the Nine, left and right of Vienna's Ringstraße and far beyond. And Beethoven on period instruments? That's welcome, sure, but a bit of an old hat by now. Or so you’d think.

And yet, Jordi Savall and his wonderful Le Concert des Nations have just brought a series of four concerts under way, in which they perform all nine symphonies at the Vienna Konzerthaus. This, the first of these, on Friday, the 22nd of February. Naturally all historically informed and played on original instruments. At a press conference prior to the concert, Savall spoke about his Beethoven project, which he’s been pursuing since 2018 and which has yielded some excellent recordings on his Alia Vox label — as if such a thing had never been attempted before.

Cue the instinctive eye-roll... promptly interrupted by a quick dive into the Konzerthaus archives. And lo: Not only has the Konzerthaus never hosted a Beethoven cycle like this, but Friday’s two offerings — the ever-popular Eroica and the Fifth — had essentially not been heard there at all in the HIP-setup. The Fifth: never, unbelievably. The Third: once, nearly 30 years ago, with the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment under Simon Rattle [sic!] — long before the knighthood and the Berlin tenure... and kind-of nixing the HIP-credits of the performance.

The Concert des Nations' Beethoven Symphony Cycle reviewed: Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 2: A Tale of two Halfs Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 3: Nearly Ideal Beethoven Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 4: Choir Yay, Horn Nay

So: high time, and ears wide open, for what Savall & Co. might offer in terms of articulation, tempo, transparency, precision, and color.

What followed in the Eroica was, alas, a bit of a lemon. Yes, the tempos were taut and the opening chords — those twin gateposts of Romanticism — came whipping, right out of the gate. But that’s nothing unusual these days, even from modern orchestras with HIP leanings. And those old instruments? They wasted no time showing their quirks: notes that cracked, slipped, squeaked, and wilted. The overall sound had a tangy roughness, occasionally warm, often clangy — the warmth likely intentional, the rest, not so much.

Savall is not one of those period bandleaders who push for “faster, louder, edgier.” He’s more Brüggen than Norrington, always steering toward a kind of cultivated nobility within historical bounds. But if one claims refinement and elegance as one’s aesthetic, then things have to be — well — clean. And they weren’t. One couldn’t help wondering whether the whole thing might not have worked better in the Mozartsaal — acoustically, at least. (Commercially? Unlikely. The Großer Saal was already bursting at the seams.) In the smaller space, the symphony would have come across as more intimate, yes, but also more immediate, raw, radical — a paradoxical gain in impact through reduction in scale.

As it was, the performance remained colorful, spontaneous even, but ultimately harmless. And yes, playing natural horns is hard. A squeak or two comes with the territory and no one minds. But on good days, even those tricky beasts behave better than this. When the woodwinds play in tune — and they mostly didn’t — their advantages shine through: flutes in particular, characterful and mellow, with a rounded depth that modern counterparts rarely achieve. This is what makes period performance thrilling when it works: like a vintage car rally — infinitely more gripping than the modern F1, even if a wheel occasionally flies off. But this many wheels?

Speaking of which: one poor violinist had to make an unscheduled pit stop in the third movement — snapped a gut string, presumably — and only returned for the Fifth Symphony. And it was not just him, but suddenly, the whole orchestra sounded transformed! Savall kicked off the Fifth with a clarity of intent and momentum that had been entirely absent in the first half. The music surged ahead, energized and driven. A telling moment came in the fourth movement, just before the fanfare: a careful buildup, the tension palpable, and then — a snappy release. And anchoring it all: Katalin Sebella’s gloriously snarling, grittily resonant contrabassoon — and thus: promise.
Follow @ClassicalCritic

Critic’s Notebook: Yannick Nézet-Séguin and the Orchestre Métropolitain visit Vienna

C.Saint-Saëns, Piano Concertos 1 & 2 Alexandre Kantorow, J.J.Kantorow, Tapiola Sinfonietta BIS SACD

C.Saint-Saëns, Piano Concertos 3-5 Alexandre Kantorow, J.J.Kantorow, Tapiola Sinfonietta BIS SACD

Montreal’s Orchestre Métropolitain on European Tour, showing off its symbiosis with Yannick Nézet-Séguin

As the second orchestra in Montreal, the Orchestre Métropolitain hasn’t got it easy. Few North American cities have two prominent orchestras; fewer still have two fine concert orchestras. But the music director who started his grand career with this band has remained loyal to his first love – and now they get to punch above their weight and fill (with a little help from the presenters) large halls on their European tour, hitting Brussels, Paris, Vienna, Hamburg, and Baden-Baden. To put this into European terms: It’s as if Christian Thielemann had always also remained at the helm of the Nuremberg State Philharmonic and now took them on a grand pan-Asian Richard Strauss Tour.

It’s heartening, really, and it makes you want to root for that 25-year collaboration that resulted, some six years ago, in a lifetime contract for Yannick Nézet-Séguin. And with that quantum of kindness in your heart, you might find that the buttery phrasing and the lavish touch in Maurice Ravel’s La valse do have a certain appeal, making the music (including much of the rest) sound a bit like those orchestras you seem to remember from old black and white movies. Nothing is overly subtle with Nézet-Séguin – even, paradoxically, the many finer points he has the orchestra perform aren’t. And therein lies much of what makes performances with the compact, energetic little man – 70% torso and 90% charisma – so consistently compelling in concert. So if you can live with music-as-entertainment, heart-on-sleeve emoting, and signaling emotional turns like a semaphore on amphetamines, what’s not to love?!

Of course, you could always revert to sneering quietly: “That’s not how it’s supposed to go.” And even though it might be tough to coherently argue what “supposed to” means, in this context, you wouldn’t be entirely wrong. Certainly not when it comes to the Tchaikovsky Pathétique, which was programmed for the second half. Firstly, there’s something old-school brazen and populist to that sort of programming. Perhaps that makes it cool again; in any case, it’s certainly effective. A Charles Ives Symphony might have looked smarter on paper – but it wouldn’t have gotten as many asses into the seats of the Wiener Konzerthaus on Wednesday night, nor out of them, again, when it came to jubilation. Taking the symphony by its nickname, YNS conducted it as his red-soled, Swarovski-encrusted buckled loafers might have suggested he would: To the hilt. Slow was very slow, fast was very fast. Empathic and emphatic, the opening was Tristanesque to the hesitant max and the opening of the third movement filled with a nice, nervous energy (if a bit unclean). Along with the rest, it was a perfect cliché of the composer, for better or worse – much depending on how the listener responds to Tchaikovsky in the first place. The critic-colleague for Die Presse on duty that night had his grimmest face on, as he read along in the score, but he was betrayed by vigorously tapping his feet along to the rambunctious music. Incidentally, his review pulled most punches, focusing on the highlight.

That had occurred in the first half. It wasn’t, unsurprisingly, Barbara Assiginaak’s 2021 orchestral work, a percussion-heavy, endearing-sounding, whispering, hissing, howling work of nature-sounds in the broadest sense, filled with tonal connective tissue and prominent woodwinds. It comes with all the charming, ecologically correct and naïve messaging that you would expect from a piece titled Eko-Bmijwang – As Long in Time As the River Flows… and it amounts to something of a land acknowledgment manifest in music: A pleasant gesture and harmless.

It was, however, the Saint-Saëns Piano Concerto No.2, performed by the rising star pianist Alexandre Kantorow (most recently heard at the Konzerthaus in Chopin’s F minor concerto). The big, bold cadenza works its way from Bach to Mozart (when the Orchestra enters) to full-blown French romanticism. Saint-Saëns runs in Kantorow’s family (his father Jean-Jacques has recorded pretty much all Saint-Saëns there is for orchestra, as a conductor and as a violinist, plus chamber music, and later re-recorded the piano concertos with his son) and he knows how to navigate the part with panache, staying clear of the pitfalls that would have the work sound frivolous and frilly. You’ll still have forgotten everything about it a day later, but while it lasts, it’s a marvelous piece and great fun and the pleasantly unfussy way of Alexandre Kantorow’s with it, romantic but never emoting, had a lot to do with that. That the orchestra was in support-mode didn’t hurt, either.

Follow @ClassicalCritic

In Memoriam: Listening to Alfred Brendel

Most people listening to classical music today have, to a greater or lesser degree, been musically socialized with the performances of Alfred Brendel. He was a fixed star on the international scene when it came to Beethoven, Mozart, Schubert and a few other of his favorite composers. His dry wit, usually gentle, rarely acerbic, poignancy, his unapologetic classicism made him an unlikely, charming icon. He has passed away on Tuesday, June 17^th, 2025 at his home in London.

I was on the steps outside the Musikverein when I read the news that Alfred Brendel had passed away in London, at the age of 94. This was the place he had given his final recital of his truly final farewell tour and this was the town where he lived when his career got under way in 1950 after first successes in Graz and before he permanently settled in the UK in 1971.

His success was a stellar one; born in the 1930s, Brendel was of a time that came a generation-plus after the keyboard titans à la Arthur Schnabel (1882), Wilhelm Backhaus (1884), Edwin Fischer (1886), Arthur Rubinstein (1887), Wilhelm Kempff (1895), Vladimir Horowitz, Rudolf Serkin and Claudio Arrau (all 1903). He was thus a “modern” artist, to anyone born before 1980, and, crucially, born into the stereo age. This is relevant, because as the exclusive go-to pianist of one of the major labels – Philips (now Decca) – for the heydays of the late analog and digital age, Brendel became a superstar of – and to some extent also because of – the recorded age. In the 100-volume, 200-CD “Great Pianists Of The 20th Century” project of Tom Deacon’s – to which Brendel was an advisor – Brendel is one of only seven pianists (Arrau, Gilels, Horowitz, Kempff, Richter & Rubinstein being the others) with three volumes dedicated to his art. If it had to be the classical repertoire – Mozart, Schubert, Beethoven – Brendel was there for you. Within that realm – and a little beyond – he recorded most of what there was to be recorded and much of that twice, some, like the Beethoven Sonatas, even thrice or more: In the 60s for Vox, in the 70s for Philips, analog, and for Philips again in the 90s, digitally. And of select works Brendel, who exerted quite a bit of control over what would get released and what would not, opted to have live accounts published, which he professedly preferred over his studio accounts. With the different releases of each of these versions (and most of them on Philips or Decca, still), it can get a bit messy trying to figure out which the analog second recording of D.960 or the digital remake of the Moonlight Sonata is or isn't. (But I am here to help.)

Alfred Brendel on Ionarts: In Performance His Soft Touch, Powerfully Moving, 02/09/2006 (jfl) Closing the Lid: Alfred Brendel, 19/03/2008 (Charles) A Conversation with Alfred Brendel, 20/03/2008 (Michael Lodico) Alfred Brendel Speaks, 11/18/2000 (Charles) On Record: Best Recordings of 2004 (#8), 12/16/2004 (jfl) From Goerne to His Distant Beloved, 07/18/2005 (jfl) Brendel and Mozart, 02/06/2006 (Charles) Brendel’s Choice, 02/06/2006 (jfl) Best Recordings of 2009 (#3), 12/14/2009 (jfl)

In Austria, his success shadowed that of fellow pianists Paul Badura-Skoda (1927), who, to some degree, escaped into the historical performance niche, Jörg Demus (1928), who found his main fame in Lied accompaniment, Ingrid Haebler (1929), who recorded much the same repertoire but whose star waned earlier, and Friedrich Gulda (1930), who became the eccentric: Considered by people in the know as a superior pianist but with a far smaller reach, ultimately. Internationally – specifically in America – there were contemporaries Byron Janis (1928), Glenn Gould (1932), Van Cliburn (1934), Leon Fleisher (1928), Richard Goode (1943), most of whom had their careers cut prematurely short; elsewhere, pianists like Ivan Moravec (1930) were stuck behind the iron curtain. As a result, the name “Alfred Brendel” and the maroon bar of the Philips label’s recordings became as indicative of a musically interested household as Wilhelm Kempff on the Yellow Label had been, a few decades earlier. Brendel’s association with the “Complete Mozart Edition” only furthered this omnipresence.

This kind of prominence brought about the invariable backlash in the form of criticism – the thrust of which, generally, was that Brendel was boring. This accusation might have had its understandable roots in Brendel’s style, which relied on subtlety and wit, level-headedness and sincerity, articulation, intelligence, and purpose, but never flash. The grand romantic gesture, even if it had been within his reach, was not temperamentally his. Even Liszt (where he did show the kind of chops that some critics might occasionally have forgotten he had) was not showy with Brendel.

It also showed in the repertoire he chose to play and even more so the repertoire he chose not to play. He left out composers most pianists couldn’t envisage making a career without: Chopin was (largely) missing; hardly, if any, Debussy or Ravel; no Rachmaninoff was ever in his sights, nor Tchaikovsky. Instead, he dropped morsels of

Read more »

Critic’s Notebook: Perfection in Mozart Lies not in the Fingers, but the Heart. Alfred Brendel’s Final Concert in Munich

While preparing ionarts' appreciation of Alfred Brendel (and newly indexing the computer), I found a review of Alfred Brendel's last concert in Munich on my hard drive. He performed with the Munich Philharmonic und Christian Thielemann at the Gasteig's Philharmonic Hall, on November 6^th, 2008

W.A.Mozart Piano Concertos 20 & 24 C.Mackerras, Scottish CO Decca (2007) US | UK | DE

W.A.Mozart Piano Concertos 20 & 24 N.Marriner, ASMF Philips (199?) US | UK | DE

Mozart: Piano Concerto in c, K491, Beethoven: Coriolan Overture op.62, Symphony No.6 “Pastorale” op.68

Twelve more towns will hear the pianism of Alfred Brendel before the near-octogenarian retires after 60 years of concertizing around the world. Munich was thirteenth to last, and he stopped by with Mozart’s C minor Piano Concerto, supported by Christian Thielemann and the Munich Philharmonic. But before Brendel went on the stage to play his farewell, the orchestra nearly stole the show with a magnificent, indeed brilliant Beethoven Coriolan Overture.

With an opening more explosive than clean (but so much of the former that the privation of the latter did not distract), this was gripping stuff with intense, soft, hushed passages and merciless, jolting, violent bursts; nicely driven and propulsive in everything between. Thielemann, conducting from memory as he does with all his core repertoire, commanded a beautiful sound from his players – making Beethoven, as ever, an occasion worth looking forward to even for the most jaded or experienced concert-goer.

Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony, the Pastorale, broad and flexible, had many of these qualities, but not as obviously so. Slightly understated and légère in the first movement, very flexible with its quickening and slowing tempos, and featuring a horrifying storm worthy of a “Flying Dutchman” performance, it was an attractive-enough proposition, but the true strengths of this conductor/orchestra combination did not emerge as obviously here as in the overture or other repertoire.

The principle of Thielemann conducting Mozart is, as of yet, better than the actual result – but I suspect he might find his unique, grand way with it before long. In any case, the orchestra was relegated to the background in the C minor Concerto, where Alfred Brendel was the focus of everybody’s attention. His opening notes were halting, as if acknowledging that these would be some of his last sounds emitted from the piano in Germany. But even if this was good-bye, ‘C minor’ was not sad with the level-headed, unsentimental Brendel – it was serious and collected.

The separation of notes in the cadenza made the ears perk, and his skilled simplicity, his serious ease and dry wit (well hidden) made the ears smile. Perfection in Mozart lies not in the fingers, but the heart; few pianists have more of the latter for Mozart than Brendel. Because of who he is, how he plays, and what we know him to be, his whole persona makes up the impression in concert, not just the naked notes. Perhaps that’s one reason why this listener finds – found – him a good deal more appealing live than on record. How good to have had one more opportunity to take him in at his best, then.


Follow @ClassicalCritic

Critic’s Notebook: Spring Funeral – from Zemlinsky, for Alfred Brendel

Also published in Die Presse: Brendel-Gedenken im Musikverein: Bruckner-Messe unter Lorenzo Viotti

A.Zemlinsky, Spring Funeral et al. Edith Mathis, Roland Hermann Antony Beaumont, NDRSO Capriccio

J.Haydn, Symphonies No.103/104 Sally Mattews, K.Cargill, I.Arcayürek, S.Trofimov M.Jansons / BRSO & Chor BR Klassik

With Zemlinsky’s funeral ode and Bruckner’s F minor Mass, his concert by the Wiener Singverein — aided and abetted by the Vienna Symphony under Lorenzo Viotti — became something of a a secular requiem for the late pianist.

Outside, summer had already announced itself in Vienna. Inside the Musikverein, Tuesday night’s audience was greeted with “The Funeral of Spring.” That would have been apt on seasonal grounds alone. As it happened, the programming of this rarely performed work by Alexander Zemlinsky — written by the 26-year-old Bruckner student in memory of the recently deceased Brahms — turned out to be sadly more appropriate still: just before the concert began, news trickled in of Alfred Brendel’s death.

The Musikverein's intendant Stephan Pauly said a few words of remembrance and the concert was dedicated to the iconic pianist. Imagine if Julius Fučík’s Entry of the Gladiators had been scheduled to open the evening. (Although, with Brendel’s dry, mischievous wit, that might have suited him perfectly. One can vividly picture the twinkle in his eye.)

The fact alone that the "Frühlingsbegräbnis" was performed at all deserves praise — before a single note sounded. This work, initially reminiscent of both Mendelssohn and Brahms, painted in bold strokes on a giant canvas, with oversized chorus, full orchestra, and soloists, is quite the experience: romantic, skirting the edge of kitsch, deeply moving — Dante Gabriel Rossetti manifest in music. Baritone Derek Welton delivered his part with relaxed, sonorous authority; soprano Christina Gansch’s voice carried beautifully, too. But the star of the work is the chorus — in this case, the Singverein — who seemed to have declared general mobilization and showed up, visibly and audibly, with every throat on deck.

The second half continued in this grand manner and the same line-up — joined now by mezzo Rachael Wilson and tenor Andrew Staples — for Bruckner’s Mass in F minor. Secular, spectacular, borderline overheated: Bruckner’s Mass has rarely sounded so much like Verdi’s Requiem. Glorious: the hushed, dark opening of the Kyrie, all restrained power. In general, it was the openings and isolated moments — usuually the soft, gentle ones — that stood out: Delicate entries, almost ostentatiously held-back (not always clean, but goosebump-worthy nonetheless), as on the “Crucifixus” in the Credo or in the luxuriant Benedictus.

And then, just as quickly, came the deluge — chorus and orchestra locked in battle for decibel-dominance, akin to King-Kong v. Godzilla, in the reverently trembling Golden Hall. In the first ten rows, ears fluttered in the Brucknerian blast wave. Lorenzo Viotti, striking his 'Cristo Redentor'-pose — arms spread, theatrical, relishing the sound — was clearly in his element. The orchestra supported him in this with vivid, committed playing.

Wilson’s voice was a rich, dark-toned exclamation mark — one could easily imagine her as Erda a few blocks away. Staples sang with an uncommonly natural and clear tone — especially for this role — a welcome contrast to the underlying tension of much of the rest of the performance.

For the curious: the concert airs again on July 29 at 7:30 PM on Ö1. And a little fashion advice: If you like the waistcoat of your three piece suit to go all the way to your neck, so it looks like you are wearing a V-neck sweater (partially necessitated by the narrow cut of the jacket which would otherwise cover the waistcoat altogether: Fine. Personal choice. But the straight/pointed collar with the black bow tie is never going to be a good look, no matter how instagrammable a hunk you might be.


Follow @ClassicalCritic