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

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.
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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: XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Jordi Savall’s Beethoven Cycle at the Konzerthaus, Part 4: XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

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.
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