The exploration of
Scherchen’s classicist credentials continues
apace. No sooner do we have his box
of some Haydn Symphonies on DG Original
Masters (ex-Westminster LPs and recently
re-released) than we have this consolidated
box of his Beethoven Symphonies. True,
some of Scherchen’s Beethoven symphonies
have been doing the rounds for a while
but the Japanese Westminster reissues
were tricky to track down and were in
fact not these monos but the stereo
remakes as indeed were MCA’s earlier
releases which, in any case, were of
the ‘here today, gone tomorrow’ variety.
This current release is the 1951-54
London/Vienna mono cycle and Archipel
are now in on the act. This will give
the conductor’s admirers (and detractors
– but am I alone in finding the critical
tide turning defiantly pro-Scherchen
after many years in the wilderness of
bewilderment?) a great deal to mull
over.
I’ve previously reviewed
a Lugano rehearsal and live Beethoven
Five from Scherchen - a document of
some remarkable status in its revelation
of Scherchen’s attitude towards Beethoven
and in its exploration of the conductor’s
priorities of rhythm and colour, amongst
much else.
http://www.musicweb-international.com/classrev/2003/Jan03/Scherchen_Beethoven.htm
That 1964 Lugano cycle
has been released over the years but
has never achieved wide commercial distribution
– the vicissitudes of a live cycle are
also part of the fabric of the performances
and rather more so than in many others.
Scherchen never insisted on absolute
orchestral discipline (which was fortunate
because even in some of his Vienna-based
recording sessions, as here, he never
got it even when, presumably, he, his
producer and the engineers might have
liked it). So this Beethoven cycle begins
with some caveats; rather desiccated
sound in places, occasional faulty balances,
and shaky ensemble. It was recorded
with two orchestras; the shakier, the
Orchestra of the Vienna State Opera
and the Royal Philharmonic, going by
the contractually necessary moniker
of the Philharmonic Symphony Orchestra
of London (in which capacity they recorded
for Boult inter alia in those Westminster
LPs of the time). I think I should add
a note of caution, and hope that I have
this right. Scherchen certainly did
record some, but not all, of the cycle
on 78s, Nos 2, 3 and 4 in 1950. He also
made stereo re-recordings, as noted
above, in 1958 (Eroica and Pastoral).
The thing that most
people remark on when it comes to Scherchen’s
Beethoven is his speed. Some movements
are, it’s true, fast – though Scherchen
was hardly the first conductor on record
to startle with his approach to the
thorny issue of Beethoven’s metronome;
Weingartner casts a long shadow here
and even a conductor such as Albert
Coates showed how there were some musicians
prepared to take Mozart and Beethoven
by the scruff of their necks, even on
78s in 1926. The most notable example
of this trait (his Haydn showed very
little of the same impulse) comes in
the stereo remakes of the Eroica
and the Pastoral. These
earlier recordings don’t share that
kinetic impulse though they’re driving
and lucid interpretations in their own
right. Scherchen’s attitude to the Eroica
in any case varied. I don’t have access
to his 1950 Vienna recording but this
1953 remake takes 48.22, the famed stereo
Viennese disc (out on Westminster and
MCA over the years) takes 43.35 and
the live Lugano (from the 1965 concert
cycle) is broader still than the 1953,
taking 49.31. Timings tell only part
of the story, of course, but the cantilever
of these representative examples of
a twelve year examination of the symphony
show the fluctuations and fissures Scherchen
found in the music and, importantly,
that his response to them was anything
but static.
Similarly the Pastoral,
which here takes a reasonable 39.00,
was dusted down (in the first two movements
especially) in the stereo remakes and
the vitesse the elderly Scherchen came
to prefer is fully mirrored in concert
survivals – Paris and Lugano from 1964
and ’65 respectively taking 35.28 and
33.56. Not taking things for granted
was of course a Scherchian trait and
one that gave his music making its sometimes
maverick strength, its sense of constant
revaluation.
So in the 1953 Pastoral
we find a tempo that’s not unconscionably
driven at all, with an acutely judged
sense of rhythm, fine explication of
the harmonic implications (never didactic
– listen to the clarity of the horns)
and we find intact the lyrical curve
as well as a necessary sense of stout
abruptness. He gives rein to the clarinets
in the third movement, audible even
in the most rustic of moments and takes
care over phrasing in the finale. It’s
not as warm hearted a reading as, say
– to take
an unusual point of comparison – that
by Karel Ančerl who favours much
more a sense of legato and romanticised
generosity, but Scherchen’s individuality
offers great rewards for the listener.
Similarly the Eroica opens
in driving fashion but always with clarity
of articulation uppermost. Certainly
ensemble is not watertight but there
is great power in this reading and a
reserved dignity to the Funeral March
(in keeping with his generally dry-eyed
approach) and a splendidly controlled
fugato. It’s certainly not as combative
a reading as the later stereo remake.
The Fifth is quick,
insistent and truly symphonic in his
hands. He takes a Toscanini-like tempo
in the second movement and not a Weingartner
one (Weingartner was considerably more
pressing than Toscanini here). The Scherzo
is relatively relaxed but he serves
up the greatest muscle in the finale
– which really does take off, though
Scherchen always manages to integrate
those crucial moments of relaxation
and mould them in a cohesive way – even
if the relative crudity of the recording
highlights a constant feature of these
recordings, the raw timpani. The playing
tends to be dutiful rather than expressive.
In the Second Symphony one finds the
Haydnesque affiliations are putty in
Scherchen’s hands – this is an affirmatory,
life enhancing reading, close to the
celebrated Beecham in terms of tempo
relationships, and showing many of the
virtues of Erich Kleiber’s much earlier
reading. Where he differs from both
men is in the athleticism of his finale,
which does tend to advance speed over
charm, in the same way that his slow
movement had moved closer to an Allegretto.
But in the Scherzo and indeed throughout
there is a delightful sense of buoyancy
and liveliness. His finales did tend
to drive, as the finale of the Fourth
shows quite graphically. Earlier this
persuasive reading sails closer to the
Pfitzner-led disc of the Berlin complete
symphonic cycle but in the finale Scherchen
disappears into the stratosphere. It’s,
notwithstanding issues of speed and
tempo relation, a marvellously sinuous
and convincing reading, strong on the
power of projection. Not for Scherchen
the even numbered lyricism of this Fourth;
it’s confrontational at moments, with
subtleties of shading and accelerandos
(try the slow movement) that are full
of Scherchian insight and provocative
wisdom. The orchestral playing is also
several notches above the Vienna sessions
– the London Philharmonic on very fine
form. The Eighth is one of the very
best readings in the cycle. He seems
always to have taken it fast and in
fact the Lugano performance is even
quicker by a full minute. Right from
the first bars we feel the anticipation,
the rhythmic control that prepares one
for the controlled drama Scherchen unleashes.
And yet the Allegretto scherzando is
chock full of wit and warmth and a sense
of relaxation and in the Minuet he relishes
the pomposo aspect, and the wind chording.
It’s a rare conductor who can explore
and unfold, at a relatively swift tempo,
those oases of calm and relaxation at
the heart of this movement. The finale
is suitably galvanic, driven to the
nth degree and as with the rest of the
performance very close to the metronome
markings.
The Seventh underwent
re-evaluation during Scherchen’s career.
Whereas in Vienna in June 1951 he took
over 36 minutes, in his live Lugano
performance he had tightened considerably,
knocking a full four and a half minutes
off that timing. Through flexibility
and lightening of string chording he
sculpts the Seventh’s Allegretto with
acumen. Even here though he vests the
music with vitality, as he’d moulded
the symphony’s opening - quite measured.
It’s an attractive reading though rather
done down by the recording and the underpowered
strings; this is particularly so in
the finale where there are patches of
glassy tone – though lithe enough. His
First Symphony, to go back to the beginning
of the cycle, opens with a pretty measured
Adagio molto and in fact this opening
symphony reveals Scherchen in relatively
expansive mood all round though he was
seemingly consistent in his attitude
here, his Lugano reading being only
fractionally slower. The big surprise
I suppose is his sedate attitude to
the finale, an unusual occurrence for
him. From the First to the Ninth. This
is an authoritative, brisk and demystifying
reading; some parts are almost impatiently
harried though Scherchen’s characteristically
decisive tempi are part and parcel of
his linear approach to these works.
He favours clarity of voicings in the
opening paragraphs to Furtwänglerian
evolutionary power and whilst the second
movement is not objectively fast it
is sharply contoured and etched. The
vocal quartet are serviceable, the choir
a little blunt around the edges, the
conception striving for an objectifying
truthfulness that occasionally comes
close to italicisation and occasionally
stentorian projection.
Always provocative,
invariably affirmatory, Scherchen always
has things to say about the core repertory
even as he strove to present contemporary
works with such assiduous and intelligent
dedication. He is at his most exciting
and revealing in the Second, Fourth
and Eighth Symphonies but admirers will
find almost everything worthy of interest.
Jonathan Woolf
Magda Laszlo (soprano) * 