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