This is the third and final volume in Tahra’s celebratory
series that takes Jochum’s 1902 year of birth as a welcome pretext for
twelve CDs packaged with distinction in black and white/sepia tinted
boxes. The Three Ages of Jochum in fact, for each box sports a photograph
of the conductor, left facing for reasons of conformity, another thoughtful
Tahra touch – the curled and wiry haired, quietly smiling and bespectacled
youth of Volume One leads on to the silver haired, quiet gaze of the
middle aged man and the august and benign strength of the elderly Jochum,
his dramatic Roman nose obscured by the omnipresent glasses.
What is the least likely repertoire one can think of
when it comes to Jochum? Coleridge-Taylor maybe or Mascagni? For all
his benign appearance one doesn’t much associate him with frivolity
or lollipops. And so, no Coleridge-Taylor and no Mascagni of course
but leafing through the repertoire listing which is included in volume
three – the first volume includes a biography and the second a discography
– is a most intriguing experience. So at random here are some surprises
– at least to me – amongst his repertoire;
Fricker’s First Symphony, Glazunov’s Violin Concerto, Honegger’s Fourth
Symphony (though he was an avid performer of the Fifth), Janáček’s
Glagolitic Mass, Kletzki’s Violin Concerto, Krenek’s Johnny spielt auf,
Lassus, Malipiero’s Cello Concerto,
a lot of Frank Martin, Martinů’s Concerto for two pianos and Concerto
grosso, Roussel’s Fourth Symphony, Sibelius’ Seventh and Violin Concerto,
Tippett’s Ritual Dances, Vaughan William’s Tallis Fantasia; and too
many Dutch works to mention, not at all surprising given his
close association with the Concertgebouw. The final volume however is
both a consolidation of expected verities and a welcome exploration
of the Franco-Belgian repertoire that again is not much part of Jochum’s
discographic inheritance; Debussy, Berlioz and Franck.
There’s plenty of clarity and purpose in his Debussy
and if the 1963 sound is a little cramped it doesn’t do too much damage.
I liked Sirènes for its boldness and for the singing of the women
of the Toonkunstkoor choir that, although rather recessed and indistinct,
still manages to register strongly. Benvenuto receives an affectionate
and occasionally quite brash reading – Jochum first began conducting
it in 1935 and along with Romeo and Juliet was the only Berlioz in his
repertoire. With Wagner we are on known territory. The Good Friday Music
(Concertgebouw, 1972, live – as are all these performances in this last
volume with the exception of the Berlin Schubert) is splendidly eloquent
and nuanced whilst the overture to the Mastersingers is resilient, strong
and firmly handled. Elly Ameling joins the Concertgebouw for Bach’s
Wedding Cantata, taped in 1973. With her are Hermann Krebbers and oboist
Cees van der Kraan as well as an unnamed harpsichordist. Ameling had
an almost perfect voice for Bach, pure yet vibrant, well supported at
the bottom and yet capable of secure extension at the top. Here she
steals in with exquisitely controlled breathing almost before one has
noticed her. The coffee house intimacy of the Cantata is reinforced
by the refinement and appositeness of the accompanying instrumentalists
– a small band – and by the soloists, principally Kraan (excellent)
and Krebbers (delightful). Ameling’s affectionate phrasing and winning
way with words and mood register even more strongly as the cantata develops
– this is a well paced and durable performance. When it comes to César
Franck one finds Jochum relishing the Wagnerian moments as well as some
beautifully veiled string tone. The rise and fall of his phrasing is
charted with determination though his overall conception is certainly
not over fast. It’s a strong, good but not outstanding performance.
Brahms’ Fourth Symphony opens with a slow but intensely
elastic sense of sculpted movement; wind detail is very much to the
fore in the opening Allegro as well as some splendidly subjective phrasing.
I don’t suppose anyone has vested the Andante with as much unstoppable
and emotion laden hysteria as Knappertsbusch in concert in Cologne in
1957. Jochum is of course far more decorous, seeing to sectional discipline
even within a chastely emotive patina, bringing sophisticated technique
and purposeful individuality. And how well he encourages some diaphanously
draped flutes in the Allegretto – truly delightful – and negotiates
some powerful ritardandos in the finale where strong weight of tone
reinforces the sense of the strain that Jochum seeks to convey. His
first violin entries are clearly audible here and not covered by the
brass as they sometimes can be and he balances sections with great acuity,
as one would expect. Something has gone wrong with the timing and tracking
here though; the Allegretto lasts six minutes not twelve and the tracking
of the finale doesn’t start until half way through the movement. The
Grieg Concerto teams Emil Gilels with Jochum and his "second"
orchestra once more, the Concertgebouw. This is a strongly characterised
reading and very communicative, Jochum shaping feminine woodwind responses
to Gilels’s masculine passagework. The pianist takes care though to
shape his phrases with requisite finesse and both men seem in one accord
in the Adagio, which is full of poetic spirit, and in the bracing and
increasingly driven finale. The final and most recent performance is
of the Schubert, the Great, in a May 1986 performance with the
RIAS Orchestra of Berlin. Strong and songful in the first movement Jochum
is occasionally gaunt and resolute in the Adagio. He is also very slow
here but despite this it is no valedictory reading, no autumnal leave
taking. On the contrary it’s a frequently candid, considered, well-paced
and thoughtful traversal, flecked with moments of disruptive splendour.
There is much distinguished music making in this and
in the two other Jochum sets that form this centenary tribute. As I
wrote in my introduction to Volume I this now must stand as a cornerstone
edition for those interested in the broad sweep of Jochum’s discography.
Presentation is impressive, documentation thorough and intriguing in
equal measure and the whole edition a conspicuously fine example of
thoughtful intelligence applied to a most worthy object of homage.
Jonathan Woolf
Volume 1 Volume2
Emil Gilels (piano)
in the Grieg Concerto