As her
Chumachenco-classmate Julia Fischer moved from Pentatone to Decca, Steinbacher filled the gap and moved from Orfeo to Penatone. The first release on the new label meant
tantalizing Dvořák coupled with Szymanowski ‘One’ (Marek Janowski, RSO Berlin). A straggler on Orfeo with the Brahms Concerto (coupled with a Schumann ‘Four’, all with Luisi piloting the VSO) came out this year but hasn’t made it across my desk yet.
Despite these fine releases with nary a clunker among them, I still never know what to expect from the violinist, whose interpretative range runs the gamut from earthy tenacity to dainty prettiness; from fierce to polite to bland. Perhaps I should have been less surprised at how good this Bartók is, and more at how boring the Brahms, but happy surprise isn’t the reason why this CD makes the list – it’s the combination of the above mentioned qualities applied in just the right measure in the right places.
Bela Bartók’s first, two-movement, concerto is a story of admiration and infatuation gone wrong; Bartók wishfully hoped for a relationship with the Swiss violinist Stefi Geyer who would, alas, have none of it.
Image-googling the lady makes Bartók’s fixation look somewhat reasonable; pictures show a beautiful (but cool, dispassionate) face attached to the fiddling rest. Miss Geyer made sure Bartók didn’t harbor any false hopes, but she still accepted the concerto, kept the score, put it in a drawer, and never played it. It needed Paul Sacher to instigate the world premiere performance in 1958; thirteen years after Bartók’s and two years after Geyer’s death.
The liner notes call the Second Concerto “arguably [the] most important violin concerto of the 20
th century”. That’s a little ambitious, given Berg, Sibelius, and Prokofiev in the wings, especially for a work that somehow manages to just fly beneath the radar, despite being well recorded. (
James Ehnes, Barnabás Kelemen, and
Valeriy Sokolov in 2011 alone.)
In sweetness as well as grit, the soloist, Marek Janowski, and the Orchestre de la Suisse Romande, offer a tremendous reading that seems to get everything right, in
both concertos. Hearing Bartók’s Second like this, ever tasteful but never boring, one is actually tempted to believe the bit about it being the most important violin concerto of the 20
th century… or at least the most fascinating one.
# 8 – Reissue
R. Strauss, An Alpine Symphony, Bernard Haitink, Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, Newton Classics 8802054
Newton Classics is one of the most interesting new re-issue labels. It produces high quality, mid-priced releases (rather than super-bargain budget cheapos without corporate design or liner notes) of venerable classics, emotional favorites, and curiously out-of-print performances both recent and mature. Its founder Theo Lap has worked in licensing ‘from the other side’ for EMI and Universal and knows that aspect of the business inside out. He knows that even recordings that never quite garnered universal praise (or, to be more blunt: recordings I wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole) can find a nice and steady market of ‘appreciateurs’, and that the success of a performance need not depend on whether it is (or isn’t) available in other versions and at different price points. Many of Newton Classics re-releases are from the digital age that saw so many mainstream issuances that many a disc never made the splash a similar such recording might make today: a Brahms Cycle with the Vienna Philharmonic under Giulini, or a Schumann cycle with the same band under Muti, for example.
Most of Newton Classics' sources come from the Universal Music catalog so far – with lots of former Philips products among them; perhaps because Universal itself can’t catch up with re-issuing that rich catalogue on Decca, since they no longer have the rights to the Philips name. Mercury Living Presence (like Byron Janis’ Liszt) is well represented, too. Standouts are Firkusny or the Hagen Quartet in Janáček, Markevitch’s Tchaikovsky-cycle with the LSO, or a 1998 HIP “Trout” around Jos van Immerseel that Sony let slip through their fingers.
Bernard Haitink’s 1985 Alpine Symphony, with its stupendous mix of dainty touches, ferocious dynamism, and lyrical tenderness – all in excellent sound and with the colorfully glittering Royal Concertgebouw – was one of the finest Alpine Symphonies when it came out on Philips in 1986. With Haitink recordings, it’s an odd thing – the worst of them are still good and ‘tolerated’ in the catalogue as inoffensive, solidly played and usually good sounding 'also-rans'. And the best ones don’t inspire particular fervor, either… go underappreciated sometimes, and occasionally are not loved for what they were until after they have been deleted. Something like that happened to this Alpine Symphony… but Newton Classics has revived it now and the man from the Low Countries can show of his mountainous glory again.
The only snag: Haitink has since delivered another blistering account with the LSO (LSO Live, Best of 2010) that plumbs the depths a little deeper, and shines brighter atop, which would make up for the minimally smaller amount of color and surprise (present here). If one had to chose only one. Which one doesn’t, anymore.
# 9 - New Release
L. v. Beethoven, The Symphonies & Overtures, Riccardo Chailly, Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchester, Decca 478 2721
Somehow Riccardo Chailly has managed never to record any Beethoven* (except for the Mass in C) in his long conducting career. Not, that is, until he performed and recorded Beethoven with his Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchester over the last couple of years. (Interview with Chailly about Beethoven here: “The Band that Beethoven Knew”) Decca issued the recordings—which includes all the Overtures—on a beautiful, luxurious box, and for the most part the interpretations fulfill the promise of Chailly’s statements:
“If we don’t surprise with the works we play, at least I hope we will surprise with the interpretations. Our Beethoven has come a long way and has shook up things a little, here in Leizpig. It was new for the orchestra, but after the initial surprise, the players saw the musical reasons behind it and followed with great believe and courage. That doesn’t mean changing the sound of the orchestra, though. You can’t ‘improve’ that. And it would be criminal to do so.”
The readings are also in line with my impression of Chailly aging into an ever more interesting, more daring, darker musician, instead of letting a mellow, routine dangle creep into his conducting. The First and Second Symphonies are bold works of romantic brawn and classical speed. The Third is very tightly argued and at 42 minutes (with repeats) one of the quickest on record. The Fourth, strangely, falls flat – at least to my ears, spoiled by the dancing Fourth from Vänskä & Minnesota, it’s a near-total dud. It remains the only unsatisfactory work… the next, the Fifth, is downright threatening with grim drama; well suited to frightening children and pets. The first time I listened to it, I underwent a strange sense of fascinating discomfort, not unlike a touch of vertigo… An experience ultimately much more fascinating than discomfiting.
The Overtures are irritable and gruff, dissonances are emphasized and while the lyrical lacunae are always serene, they are usually short. The “Name Day Overture” which kneels before Chailly a humble, forgotten work, rises a grand, superbly entertaining piece. Coupling it (plus the King Stephen Overture) with the wild but breezy Ninth Symphony further highlights Beethoven’s use of earlier works to sketch out the famous themes of his last symphony.
Part of the robust darkness of the set stems from the famously ‘dark’, varnished Gewandhaus sound, already impressive in the previous Leipzig Beethoven cycles under Franz Konwitschny (Berlin Classics) and Masur (1970s, Philips/Pentatone and again in the 90s, Philips). Masur’s first cycle has its followers, but except for the LGO-sound (not yet performed in the new hall, and sonically not ideal), it’s a drowsy affair. With superb sound taken from the new Gewandhaus hall, a contemporary interpretive edge, and brimming with personality, Chailly’s Beethoven—combining in it the new and old—isn’t just the Leipzig-cycle of choice, it is one of the most interesting and finest modern cycles, and utterly unique. Not my first-choice for a Beethoven cycle (Järvi, RCA or Vänskä, BIS currently), but one of the top complementary cycles.
* As a few readers have rightly pointed out, Chailly did record some more Beethoven; in the 80s he and Alicia DeLarrocha put down the five Piano Concertos on Decca. Long since deleted, it made a brief re-appearance on Decca Eclipse, but those recordings are also OOP.
# 9 – Reissue
D. Shostakovich, The String Quartets, Mandelring Quartet, Audite 5 SACDs 21.411
I have written about the Mandelring’s Shostakovich recordings before (2008, “Shostakovich with the Mandelring Quartet”, “First Impressions and Shostakovich” 2010, (“Notes from the 2011 Salzburg Festival ( 18 )” 2011) – and always with calm enthusiasm… not unlike the playing of the German quartet in these interpretations. It goes something like this:
“The sheer beauty of all of Shostakovich’s brilliantly harrowing ugliness that these discs offer […] is something to behold… The Mandelring Quartett offers more beauty and less gore in Shostakovich than one would expect if the only reference were the performances of the (all-Russian) “Borodin”, “Beethoven”, or “Shostakovich” Quartets. They accentuate surfaces more than spikes and corners; their rhythmic beat is propulsive but rarely maniacal. They are DSCH-seducers, not DSCH-enforcers… which is not to say that they can’t work up an awesome storm. One must merely first get out of ‘Borodin-mode’ to listen to the Mandelring Quartett and gain the maximum reward from their sessions with Dmitry.”
In short: there's much awesomeness to be had here, and in state-of-the-art sound at that.
# 10 - New Release
D. Shostakovich, Piano Concertos & Piano Quintet, Martin Helmchen, Vladimir Jurowski, LPO, LPO 0053
During a musical tour of London in 2009, the orchestral highlight was a night with the London Philharmonic Orchestra under their Principal Conductor Vladimir Jurowski. A cracking, tight Mahler First was still topped when Martin Helmchen married Mozartean lightness to Chopin-romanticism in a world-class performance of Shostakovich’s Second Piano Concerto. The LPO’s own label recorded that performance, added it to a performance of the First Concerto (with similar qualities) from exactly one year before that, and waited another year to generously add the Piano Quintet in G Minor, performed by Helmchen with the LPO’s principal string players at Henry Wood Hall.
Helmchen, admittedly, wouldn’t have been the first pianist to come to my mind thinking of ‘great Shostakovich’. I know him as a master of moderation, terribly serious, at home with the ‘Viennese Classics’, 19th century repertoire, and of a disposition that favors subtlety over attack; refinement over edges, depth over flash. His performances usually kick in on the third listen, rarely on the first.
But then Shostakovich’s Piano Concertos—certainly not the Second and not the First, either—are hardly the gruff-and-rough works that his symphonies would suggest or as tensely focused and acerbic as his string quartets. They’re among the lightest, even fluffiest among Shostakovich’s ‘repertoire works’… closest in spirit to his Ninth Symphony, and sometimes closer still to works like Tahiti Trot or The Golden Age. Nor does Helmchen hold back when holding back would be a hindrance; the cadenzas and the furious closing gallop before the gleefully celebratory finale of the First Concerto are all played up with abandon and humor… the Andante of the Second with such superlatively touching, restrained and pliable lyricism that it must be heard to be believed.
# 10 – Reissue
A. Boito, Mefistofele, soloists, Julius Rudel, LSO, EMI 0879562
Arrigo Boito’s Mefistofele is one of my favorite operas; certainly one of my favorite Italian operas. Like many non-German treatments of the subject, Boito has no compunctions about going straight to Goethe for his self-written libretto. With Germanic sincerity (lacking, as Boito found, in Gounod’s Faust) and great admiration for Wagner, he tackled the daunting subject in a style that was well ahead of his time. If you wonder how important Boito and his advice were to Verdi’s last few operas, just check out Mefistofele!
For years, there have only been two realistic choices among recordings: Julius Rudel’s EMI account (1973, Treigle, Domingo, Caballé), and Oliviero de Fabritiis’ on Decca (1985, Ghiaurov, Pavarotti, Freni). Riccardo Muti’s recording from La Scala (RCA, 1995, Ramey, La Scola, Crider) was in and out of print so fast it never quite registered; ditto Giuseppe Patané’s Budapest recording (Sony, 1988, Ramey, Domingo, Marton). Everything else is either old, pirated, or negligible. Only this year did Naxos add an account from Palermo to this (also available on DVD from Dynamic).
I grabbed the excellent Decca account when it was re-issued a few years back, but the EMI recording still reigns supreme. Not only is the swift and bold conducting of Rudel so much more entertaining than the languorously celebratory style of Fabritiis, the EMI cast also seems more dramatically involved and homogenous, rather than just concerned with sounding good. That goes particularly for Norman Treigle who simply does not sound as gorgeous as Ghiaurov in his prime, but whose embodiment of the role—especially when he starts whistling with gusto—just gels. How good to have it re-released as part of EMI’s “The Home of Opera” series.