Sir Charles Mackerras and the RLPO have been putting
together their Beethoven cycle for EMI CfP for over ten years now, and
it is satisfying finally to have the complete set in one box, albeit
a rather unwieldy one (the hinges came apart on my copy the first time
I opened it, and although I managed to reassemble it, it remains somewhat
ramshackle!). It comes complete with a well illustrated booklet, including
interesting notes by Jonathan del Mar on his new editions used here,
and a performance note by Mackerras himself, mainly concentrating on
the thorny issue of tempo in the Choral Symphony. It’s fair to
say that the speeds throughout all of the symphonies tend to be very
much on the fast side, but Mackerras has clearly thought this through
carefully, and most of them work well, being in keeping with the character
of the music.
This is invigorating and no-nonsense Beethoven, which
has undeniable advantages. By the time I had finished listening, however,
I felt that Mackerras’s approach was more successful in some symphonies
than others. Those you could describe as the ‘lighter’ pieces – basically
1, 2, 4 and 8 – work superbly. I’ll come clean and say that these are
also among my personal favourites among the symphonies. The First sounds
here as fresh and compelling as I’ve ever heard it, and many of the
details of articulation, dynamics and phrasing which have been adjusted
in del Mar’s edition help to enhance this impression. The unfettered
brass tone gives a dramatic edge to the sound in tuttis, and Mackerras,
learning from his experience with ‘period’ ensembles, has encouraged
his timpanist to use appropriately hard sticks. The extraordinary Menuetto
(really a prototype Scherzo) benefits particularly well from
this treatment.
The Second Symphony, too, succeeds particularly well,
though the climax of the first movement’s coda doesn’t quite work. There
is a thrilling build up, capped by the chain of suspensions in the trumpets.
Mackerras loses the tension, though, and allows the entry of the trumpets
to be a sudden burst of sound rather than a true culmination – disappointing.
The Larghetto which follows, on the other hand, is wholly delightful,
with expressive and stylish solos from the RLPO’s very fine woodwind
and horns.
Symphony no.4 is similarly entertaining, though Mackerras
chooses to ignore the ma non troppo (i.e. ‘not too much’) qualification
of the final Allegro, and lets it rather run away. Not surprisingly,
the bassoon and clarinet versions of the main theme are just an unhappy
blur – no criticism of the players, this, just of the tempo. You can
argue until you’re blue in the face about exactly when and why Beethoven
added that ‘ma non troppo’ but if your tempo doesn’t allow the
players to articulate clearly, then it’s the wrong tempo.
The Eighth – small in scale but weighty in imagination
– gets a truly brilliant performance, emphasising its quirkiness and
outrageous humour. Now and again, though, there are balance problems;
listen to the beginning (CD 2, track 5), for example, where the tutti
is bright and integrated, and the following wind phrases come over attractively.
But when the violins take up the theme again, they sound thin and under-powered.
I sense that this may be the fault of the recording rather than the
musicians, resulting from the desire to create a bright sound in which
all the detail in the wind can be clearly heard. It’s a tough call,
because this really does have huge advantages. Beethoven was sometimes
inclined to be optimistic about the chances of internal orchestral detail
coming across to the listener (he wasn’t the only one!), and in these
recordings very little is lost, though there is no feeling of artificial
‘spotlighting’. Nevertheless, the violins in particular sometimes lose
out, as they do here.
All of the above performances, then, are sparkling,
and I have, as you can see, very few reservations. But what of the other
symphonies? The Pastoral responds particularly well to the Mackerras
treatment, and By the Brook receives one of the loveliest performances
I have heard. The del Mar edition has the strings muted throughout,
which imparts a whole new tone-colour to the movement, giving it a hazy,
summer afternoon feel to it that is very beautiful to hear. The Storm
gets the full treatment, building up to a really massive outburst, after
which the tranquillity of the Shepherds’ Hymn is that much more
affecting.
The Eroica on the other hand, seemed less satisfactory.
The feeling of ‘hurry, hurry, hurry’ invades the music in the broad
spaces of the first movement, and although it gains in structural tightness,
it loses some of the epic quality that the music surely needs. The Funeral
March, too, seems lacking in space, so that the full drama of its later
outbursts feel underplayed and lacking in their full significance. For
my money, Abbado’s recent BPO recording, for one, captures both the
energy and the breadth of this work more completely. I have similar
feelings about the first two movements of number seven, though the finale
is undeniably thrilling.
But it is the Choral which, annoyingly, is the
least satisfactory performance in the set. The first movement is great
– powerful, full of sensational contrasts, and very dramatic. The Scherzo,
too, is very fine, and I was delighted to hear the famous high Fs from
bass trombone (CD5, track 2, 6:50), which Berlioz loved so much, so
very clearly. The slower tempo for the Trio, which took some getting
used to, works very well, makes great musical sense, allowing awkward
bassoon, horn and oboe solos to be played with grace and style as they
surely should be.
The slow movement and finale, though, are a different
story. The sublime Adagio molto cantabile never achieves the
kind of inwardness it must have if it is to be the spiritual core of
the work – though I fully acknowledge that Mackerras may not conceive
of it as such – and always sounds hurried. The players are clearly having
to consciously resist their urge to phrase more spaciously, with the
result that the music doesn’t breathe in the way that I feel
it should. Similarly with the finale; passing over the sad fact that
the RLPO ‘cellos and basses are not heard at their best in the recitativo
sections at the start of the movement, there is still a feeling that
Mackerras is relentlessly pushing forward, determined never to allow
the music to relax or ‘spread’. This is most painfully evident in the
B major quartet for his otherwise impressive group of soloists (CD5,
track 9 1:19), who sound here deeply uncomfortable (though Terfel is,
as ever, magnificent throughout the movement). The recording is not
kind, either, to the RLP Choir, who struggle at times to project their
tone convincingly through the orchestral textures.
Despite these reservations, this is a superb set. In
fact, I would argue that the chances of any conductor producing
a set of all nine symphonies that any one fully conscious listener will
find totally convincing are about Zero! I loved listening to all of
these performances, and it left me, once again, in awe of the achievement
represented by these stupendous works.
Gwyn Parry-Jones
Joan Rodgers (soprano),
Della Jones (alto), Peter Bronder (tenor), Bryn Terfel (bass), Royal Liverpool
Philharmonic Choir