Critic’s Notebook: Beethoven Tradition with the Vienna Symphony and the Singakademie

Also published in Die Presse: Flüssig und nie überhitzt: Beethovens Neunte im Konzerthaus

L.v.Beethoven Symphony No.9 Fricsay, BPh (1957) (DG, 2001) US | UK | DE

L.v.Beethoven Symphony No.9 Abbado, BPh (1996 live) (Sony, 1996) US | UK | DE

L.v.Beethoven Symphony No.9 Böhm, VPh (1970) (DG) US | UK | DE

Annual LvB9 from Vienna; Slobodeniouk-Edition

To round off the year, the beloved tradition of Beethoven’s Ninth returned to the Konzerthaus – with the Vienna Symphony Orchestra and the Singakademie

After a year like this one, it is hard not to view the lofty wishes articulated by the Schiller–Beethoven team in the latter’s Ninth Symphony with a measure of skepticism. How much reason is there, really, for fire-drunken exultation? What can the gentle wing of joy – music, whether Beethoven’s symphony or, say, Straussian waltzes – actually accomplish? Not all that much, to be honest. But what makes the text that Beethoven choose and adapted so appealing is that, almost immediately after stating its ambitious ideals, it concedes that not all men must become brothers right away – however desirable if somewhat naïve that aspiration may be. It’s perfectly fine to start small with a New Year’s resolution or glimmer of hope: Being a friend to a friend, for example, would already be reason enough for jubilation. Heck, even grumbling a little less, being a little kinder in moments when it is most difficult, would be a step toward that famous “embrace, ye millions.” Friedrich and Ludwig both knew: all good greatness begins small.

That insight applies, in a way, to music-making as well. No grand sweep, no overwhelming interpretation can succeed if the basic ingredients – the details – are not right. With the Vienna Symphony Orchestra, guided through the Ninth this year by Dima Slobodeniouk, they were. Engaged, fluent, without exaggeration and never overheated, the performance moved through the familiar work from the opening bars onward. The strings were in fine form, repeatedly finding their way back to a genuine pianissimo between the regular outbursts; the winds were lively; and the horns, for the most part, issued a faultless, even burnished sound. The slow movement unfolded in a gentle, calm atmosphere without grinding down to a halt. And in the Allegro assai of the finale, the bassoon's contribution was delightfully brought to the fore – or at least not pushed aside – bySlobodeniouk.

The details also aligned where the soloists were concerned: a well-balanced, evenly matched quartet singing from the organ loft. The young bass Alexander Grassauer opened proceedings with a large, aptly heraldic voice. Tenor Julian Prégardien sang brightly and naturally into the vast space of the Great Hall – especially welcome for the absence of violent attempts to be heard at all costs, everywhere. Much the same can be said of the women, Christiane Karg (pointed) and Beth Taylor (velvety), whose relative inconspicuousness in this work was probably more a virtue than a fault. The final vocal quartet, which had gone completel off the rails the year before, came off well this time. The Singakademie sohwed up in full force and contributed its share – particularly the energetic tenors – to the starry musical canopy this symphony is. Or can be.

With all these fine ingredients, one must be careful not to grow numb to the sheer stature of the work: to remember that a solid, unflashy interpretation – one that does not clamor for attention – can still ignite the Beethoven spark within us, rather than producing refined boredom. Slobodeniouk managed this very respectably, and fittingly, at the close of the year.


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Critic’s Notebook: Víkingur Ólafsson Looks at Opus 109 through his Kaleidoscope

Also published in Die Presse: Beethoven durch den Ólafsson-Filter

W.A.Mozart Mozart & Contemporaries Vikingur Olafsson (DG, 2021) US | UK | DE

L.v.Beethoven Opus 109 et al Vikingur Olafsson (DG, 2025) US | UK | DE

Bach / Glass / Rameau Triad (1736) Vikingur Olafsson (3CDs, DG, 2020) US | UK | DE

Beethoven Through the Ólafsson Filter

Víkingur Ólafsson offers an evening in unwavering E major – and minor – at the Konzerthaus.

Víkingur Ólafsson (whom we predicted to have a great career at ionarts as early as 2005!) has built up an enthusiastic following in the cities he visits. Quite rightly so: with his distinctive mix of playfulness amid great seriousness, he is that rare phenomenon whose impact stems from the sheer quality of his playing rather than from interpretive gimmicks, exaggeration, or provocation. On Tuesday night at the Konzerthaus, he showed a different side.

The Bach Prelude from the Well-Tempered Clavier was still a conventional opening – leisurely, relaxed. Why he chose No. 9 in E major in particular became obvious during the seamless slip into Beethoven’s op.90. When the program noted that “the performance will take place without intermission”, they sure meant it literally: Ólafsson played straight through, leaving no space for applause (or regulated coughing) until after the last movement of the last work. Admirable for its efficiency but slightly taxing after an hour.

Beethoven’s two-movement sonata – a major little gem perhaps underestimated because of its brevity – took on an unusually dreamlike cast under the Icelander’s hands. “mit Empfindung”, indeed. And then, as the tempo tightened in the second movement (“mit Lebhaftigkeit”), he launched into it with such headlong abandon that the notes nearly tripped over their own feet. He let the whole piece unfold with unexpected emphases, freshly minted agogics, artful pauses, and a whispering close. From anyone with a lesser reputation, one would say: wildly distorted.

It was a sign of what was to come. After a progressively introverted reading of Bach’s Partita No. 6 – taken, like everything else, attacca in and out – came early Schubert and his likewise two-movement Sonata D.566, which Ólafsson quite plausibly places in the wake of Beethoven’s op.90. Individual, playful, a touch sugary – and with a stormy dash into the finale: an April-weather Schubert. Onto this, without so much as a breath, the supposed crowning moment was to follow: Beethoven’s antepenultimate sonata, op.109. His hand went to the keys... recoiled several times, visibly annoyed by coughers. But what does the young man expect when, in December no less, he gives no proper coughing-outlet to two thousand throats for nearly ninety minutes?)

There was, to be sure, much to marvel at in this Beethoven: vlafsson's outstanding sensitivity, naturally, and his finely cultivated touch. But there were also exclamation marks underlined twice, while subordinate clauses were stuffed into double parentheses. There were ritardandi that might have left Josef Hofmann blush and would perhaps not even occur to a Lang Lang. Also lots of pedalling, then breathless passages that pushed the Beethoven to the point of sounding like it consisted of clusters. A harried fugato was followed by a sixth variation in super slow-mo. At times it sounded like a departure from the pianist’s usual image – the one built on naturalness and exquisitely differentiated touch. A step from Wilhelm Backhaus toward Khatia Buniatishvili, if you will.

But one man's disappointment is another man's delight - and the four generous encores – Bach, Rameau, and Bartók, who in his Three Hungarian Folk Songs suddenly sounds like Erik Satie – brought the house down.


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Critic’s Notebook: Manfred Honeck Scintillating with the VSO; Kavakos brooding in Korngold

Also published in Die Presse: Dirigent Manfred Honeck ließ im Musikverein die Funken sprühen

E.W.Korngold (& Barber) Violin Concerto(s) Gil Shaham / A.Previn / LSO DG (1994) US | UK | DE

L.v.Beethoven Symphonies 5 & 7 M.Honeck / Pittsburg SO Reference SACD (2015) US | UK | DE

Exuberance and Musical Joy with Manfred Honeck

The Vienna Symphony Orchestra, inspired-sounding, under the West-Austrian maestro from Pittsburgh

There aren’t many conductors who make you think: No matter what, where, or with whom – I need to be there and hear them. Manfred Honeck – who, over the past 17 years, has turned the fine Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra into one of the world’s most interesting ensembles – is one of them. Saturday night’s concert with the Vienna Symphony at the Musikverein offered ample reasons why.

Perhaps not quite yet in the Austrian premiere of Lera Auerbach’s Frozen Dreams, a joint commission by Pittsburgh, the Vienna Symphony, and the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde (alias dictus Musikverein) – where one’s ears were primarily busy just taking in the new music. Soundscapes (a bowed gong, singing glasses, eventually the string sections) gently crept forward, pushing against the rustling restlessness of the hall. A wry smile, recalling Alfred Schnittke, underlies the piece when Auerbach lets familiar-sounding tunes dart through the abstract tectonics of her musical landscape – or when she just brusquely wipes away those friendly gestures with a broad orchestral swipe.

Perhaps also still not quite in Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s Violin Concerto: Not here, simply because the soloist, Leonidas Kavakos, was squarely at the center of it all. It’s pretty safe to say that this concerto has arrived in the repertoire: this was already the fourth time it’s been heard in Vienna this season, and thrice with major performers. In February with the Tonkünstler and Simone Lamsma and in May with the VSO (!) and Renaud Capuçon.

Kavakos, by nature not a grandstanding, overwrought kind of soloist, is perfectly suited to this music that straddles the concert hall and Hollywood. Full-bodied and penetrating, charged with inner tension, and – despite a surprisingly broad and heavy vibrato – never soupy, he set the tone for the performance. That even an intonation-animal like him brushes up against the limits of ambiguity in the tricky Andante shows that Korngold offers his performers beauty, but not ease. (Capuçon and Lamsma were cleaner, more distict here, though neither brought anything like his expressiveness to the work.) The finale buzzed and hummed with energy. After that, his encore – the Bach "Loure" from Partita No.3 in E major, abstract and played right at the edge – felt like a glass of ice water.

Finally, in the Beethoven, Honeck’s influence came into focus. There was so much to discover and enjoy in this Seventh Symphony, for all its familiarity. It started with the fundamentals: articulation, phrasing. The crescendos were organic. Even at breakneck speed, there was never haste; never panic over bungled notes. Never lost in minutiae, he kept the momentum flowing just right. Sparks flew with intensity.

P.S.: This merits a little rant: The VSO is bloody lucky to have Honeck return to them regularly (he will be back in October with Anne-Sofie Mutter!); the Vienna Phil insane for not trying to tie him to the orchestra of which he was a violist-member for ten years. Is it, because his brother Rainer is their concert-master? Something is decidedly amiss when the Vienna Phil evidently avoids a conductor who, on paper, would be a perfect fit, one who is among the best regarded, most exciting maestros of our time, and who has such ample feeling for the 'Viennese style'. He should have been conducting the bloody New Year's concert oodles of times by now, instead the orchestras he has conducted at the Musikverein include the Pittsburgh and Munich Philharmonics, the Vienna Symphony, the Webern SO, a bloody student orchestra, the Jeunesse Youth Orchestra, the Swedish RSO, the MDRSO, and the ORF-RSO... but not the Vienna Phil. Anyone suggesting that anything but politicking and shady Viennese machinations are the reson for this, does not know this snake-put of a town well enough, methinks.
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Critic’s Notebook: The VSO, Petr Popelka, Renaud Capuçon in LvB, Strauss/Strauß & Korngold

Also published in Die Presse: Konzerthaus: Die Symphoniker wissen, wie Schlagobers klingen muss

E.W.Korngold (& LvB) Violin Concerto(s) R. Capuçon / Y.Nézet-Séguin / Rotterdam PO Virgin/Erato (2009) US | UK | DE

L.v.Beethoven Rosenkavalier-Suite et al. H.Blomstedt / J.Y.Thibaudet / Gewandhaus Decca (2005) US | UK | DE

Viennese Double Cream, Manifest in Music

The Vienna Symphony Orchestra, under their chief conductor, show their spirited side again.

Hearing Beethoven’s Consecration of the House Overture live is a rare pleasure: late, brisk, and genial Beethoven, in a nutshell — sparkling and, especially under chief conductor Petr Popelka, played with the requisite vitality by the Vienna Symphony Orchestra on Saturday evening. What a difference a conductor makes, compared to the previous outing of flat-out-boredom!

That refined opening was followed by Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s Violin Concerto — a work that, after a few decades of raised eyebrows, has now rightly claimed its spot in the standard repertoire. Its mix of luscious sweep and taut structure places it not far behind the most beloved examples of the genre. But both soloist and orchestra are called upon to respect those boundaries in either direction — lest the piece lose form, focus, or character.

Renaud Capuçon, a fundamentally solid and sound violinist, seemed unsure of which interpretive path to take and wrestled with the first two movements more than expected. The orchestra, by contrast, was in fine form — clear, nuanced, with that seasoned self-possession one hopes for. By the time the more assured third movement came around, Capuçon had managed to pull things together. His encore, Massenet’s Méditation (with harpist Volker Kempf), was a direct hit in the crowd-pleaser department, sappy, served on a bed of cold calcuation.

The kinship between Josef Strauss’s Dynamiden Waltz and Richard Strauss’s Rosenkavalier Waltzes may be obvious on paper, but by the time the latter shows up — so much other music has gone by, you’ve nearly forgotten the Josef. Overflowing, teetering on Salome-esque wildness, Popelka led it like a freshly stretched rubber band. Go figure: it can be done!

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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
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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.

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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.
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