Pletnev’s foundation
of the Russian National Orchestra in 1990, the first independent
orchestra in Russia’s history, has thanks to his visionary zeal
and untiring efforts become a great success. I won’t say that
they’ve ‘arrived’ with this set of Beethoven’s complete symphonies,
but with so many versions of Beethoven’s symphonies in the catalogue
these days it was always going to have to be something a bit
special to have DG invest in such a production. It’s also not
surprising that these new recordings have to come with some
kind of unique selling point. Deutsche Grammophon is of course
famous for the sets conducted by Herbert von Karajan with the
Berlin Philharmonic, and it was the 1977 edition, bought via
mail order on cassettes over what seemed like months of endless
toil working as a teenage slave on a milk-round, that I made
my first real acquaintance with Beethoven’s symphonies. This
new set comes into the world with the advantage of a reasonable
value ‘Special Price’ tag, which will go a long way towards
compensating for the lack of overture fillers. I don’t personally
mind the lack of musical extras – at least the mind is concentrated
on the symphonies and nothing else.
Our minds are also
being teased with DG’s own promotional language. It takes some
nerve to set out one’s stall with the line “The present set
of Beethoven symphonies is bound to shake up the established
image of the composer.” Indeed – but what is the established
image? Even in the 1970’s Beethoven was more than most the ‘rock
‘n roll’ bad boy of classical music – I know this because, of
all composers, my mother complained she didn’t like him ‘shouting’
at her. Mauricio Kagel’s Ludwig van, while perhaps an
art film of limited distribution, at the very least shows an
avant-garde composer demonstrating how ubiquitous a figure Beethoven
is, how obsessively iconic the shadow he casts on all music
since his own time – and that was made back in 1969.
Sales puff aside,
one thing Kagel and Pletnev agree upon is the improvisatory
nature of Beethoven’s musical expression. After making them
play the music as if they’ve seen it for the first time and
are having a hard time making head or tail of what the composer
wants, Kagel has his musicians improvise on Beethoven’s notes
plastered like wallpaper on every surface of a room. Pletnev
the keyboard virtuoso knows something of Beethoven’s own performing
style, not only through inhabiting the concertos and sonatas,
but in studying Carl Czerny’s first-hand reports of Beethoven’s
own playing. Pletnev’s interpretations are fed by this sense
of spontaneous invention: “He was after one objective above
all: to surprise… and he was a great improviser; so improvising
with the notated score is an important consideration when you’re
dealing with his music.”
Pletnev’s own words
are clearly printed on the back of the box you may find yourself
holding in the shop: “every phrase, scream, and moment of joy
lived though as intensely as in our real lives. The music must
have an immediate emotional effect.” The whole idea is “the
perpetual revitalisation of earlier scores in a present day
context” but without relying on ideas about historical performance
practice or authentic instruments to achieve these effects.
In the past, Pletnev has sometimes been criticised for being
over-fussy in his conducting, and on occasion ‘perverse’ in
his pianistic interpretations. The DG website holds that he
“strongly believes in interpretative freedom and an artist’s
obligation not to deliver a “mausoleum-like performance” but
rather to make classical music come to life by using it to communicate
his own emotions to the audience. As Pletnev puts it, “It should
go from heart to heart.”
How does this come
through on these recordings? There are some genuinely intriguing
and affecting associations which are thrown up by Pletnev. The
massively sustained Marcia funebre second movement of
the ‘Eroica’ symphony brought the connection to Richard Strauss’s
Metamorphosen back as strongly as I’ve ever heard, which
must be about as far as you can get when talking about emotion
in music. Further on in the symphony, the horn calls are spotlit
to the extent that we have the impression that some kind of
pastoral programme is on the go – with romantic running around
in the woods creating a mini-operatic drama.
Pletnev pushes the
envelope as far as possible whenever he can, revelling in his
excellent orchestra’s ability to make Allegros really, vivace,
molto and con brio, and in being able to manipulate
the tempi in sometimes extravagant but rarely tasteless ways
– taste of course being on the tongue of the beholder. There
is also an intensity about this set which must have something
to do with the fever-pitch pace at which the whole this was
recorded – in 11 days; the return and rewards from which DG
should be very pleased indeed.
Readers will have
noticed that the symphonies in this set are grouped into odd
numbers for the first two discs, even for the second two, and
No.9 as the fifth. It might seem a bit of a leap to be into
the Symphony No. 5 straight after No.3, but who says
you can’t shuffle things around. Some critics have mentioned
that Pletnev’s ‘5th’ in this set lacks some of the
inventive drive of the others, but my feeling is that, working
with what some see as the ‘perfect’ symphony, he is less inclined
to impose upon the music, something which in fact more frequently
crops up than the promotional texts would suggest, and something
which comes back most particularly in the 9th. There
are some moments in the 5th where time seems suspended
– the instrumental solos in the first movement for instance,
and Pletnev does seem inclined to slow things down a little
while emphasising the more chamber-music moments in the symphony.
This he and his players do very nicely, but you may feel inclined
to mutter ‘get on with it’ after the umpteenth time this occurs.
As the heroic finale
of ‘The Fifth’ emerges triumphantly from the previous Allegro
it’s time to talk a little about sound quality. The big
scale of the great hall in the Moscow State Conservatory suits
Pletnev’s readings down to the ground. His Beethoven requires
a great deal of elbow room, and I admire the sound engineer’s
balance between exquisite detail, atmosphere and sheer impact.
The weight of the brass and timpani in this movement is a physical
force, and while the vast acoustic is tamed enough to make every
note count, you can feel the music bringing the space to life.
It’s not all brash bluster however, and the moments of softness
have a delicate touch which gives the tuttis all the more power.
Many points one
can make apply to all of the symphonies, but another aspect
of Pletnev’s recordings I admire is the sense of architecture
you find in the music. It’s a well worn cliché perhaps, but
with Pletnev there is both the detail and the grand sweep or
gesture of each movement, which unfolds to become more the sum
of its parts: look after the shape of each phrase of musical
sentence and the rest will follow quite naturally. Like the
detail in a beautiful or striking building you can examine its
design and craftsmanship closely, or stand back and swallow
it as a breathtaking whole – allowing you eye to follow the
flow of space and unwittingly allowing the element of time to
enter the equation. Other conductors have achieved this before
of course, but I love Pletnev’s sense of playfulness or empathy
with the mood of each moment – where Beethoven writes a gallop
it really rollicks along, and if we are being shown a funereal
procession we are shown one which is mournful, but which has
unstoppable purpose – a weighty tread on every odd-numbered
beat. I’m talking of course about the Symphony No.7,
which has always been a big favourite of mine. The third movement
Presto has an initial impression of something more superficial
than one might at first have hoped for, but Pletnev is in fact
being more consistent with the tempo in this movement than some,
refusing the many opportunities for extra depth by maintaining
forward momentum. Only just before the final section of the
rondo form does he wind everything down to silence, before propelling
the movement to the edge and over; where it drops into the maelstrom
of a vastly energetic Allegro con brio with full ‘wow!’
factor.
The third CD in
this set brings us back to the Symphony No.2, and the
now familiar ‘house’ pattern of dramatically quick tempi coupled
with extremes of dynamic and accent which drive the rhythmic
pulse with captivating energy. The strings certainly have admirable
facility around the virtuosic figurations in the Allegro
con brio of the first movement and Allegro molto of
the finale, and maintain clarity through the variety of articulation
required in both. The second movement’s fragrant Larghetto
is taken at a non-sentimental no-nonsense tempo, but Pletnev’s
way with subtle rubati and phrasing mean that the romantic
aspects of this movement are laid bare, rather than covered
in four-square classical traditionalism.
The Symphony
No.4 is in a different league of course, and Pletnev’s opening
is suitably searching, drawing on the ambiguities of Haydn’s
Creation and to a certain extent looking forward to the
sustained mysticism of Bruckner. He revels in the sheer impact
of the Allegro vivace, drawing back with ritenuti
where Beethoven ends musical phrases with changes in instrumentation,
emphasising the little wind choruses and the descending string
figures which seem to want to run straight into the 6th
symphony. This all works surprisingly well in my opinion, and
the flexible development is invigorating at all times – no such
thing as boring old transition here, with a sense that Beethoven
might have come to visit Carl Nielsen in a creative dream, or
had a hand in the invention of minimalism; just by way of a
gift – ‘you can have this for free, while we wait for the next
really good bit…’ Pletnev almost seems to want
to allow his strings some portamento in the opening of
the second Adagio movement, but the winds soon come in
and show how things should be done properly. The string tunes
later on are however still juicy with vibrato, which maintains
a kind of gentle intensity even in the more relaxed passages.
The vibrato even affects the horn in this movement, giving the
solo a gorgeous Czech quality. Pletnev picks up and runs with
the syncopated accents of the third movement, giving it a nicely
swinging groove, or slightly mannered over-emphasis, depending
on how you feel about such things. First prize goes to the bassoon
in the final Allegro… of which Pletnev seems to have
conveniently forgotten the ma non troppo in order to
create another astounding performance.
Written over, by
my standards, an extended period, I’ve been coming back to this
set every evening for what seems like weeks already, and it’s
become a ritual which I’ve come to look forward to, and will
miss when the task is completed. If that’s not a recommendation
then I don’t know what is. The Symphony No.6 is always
one which creates a sense of anticipation, and with Pletnev’s
almost wilful opening I was a little concerned that things might
finally have got out of hand. The heartstrings soon began to
soar however, and the resonance with which the orchestra throws
out some of those pastoral passages makes up for anything suspect
in the massaging of the tempo. The ideas end up tumbling over
each other in such a way that they loose any of the static sense
of repetition which I hear in some versions, but serve the double
function of always introducing the next idea rather than having
to survive in a kind of precious isolation. The smiling fantastique
image of Berlioz pops out here quite distinctly, but you
might have guessed that already. Any vulnerability in the strings
comes out with the exposed opening and figurations of the Szene
am Bach, and the first violins just about get away with
it, even though their presence has a chamber-music like feel
here and at several places throughout this set – the individuals
not always quite gelling into sectional unity. The second violins
are placed antiphonally on the right by the way, which makes
for a glorious spread of string sound. The Lustiges Zusammensein
der Landleute is if anything a more noble and sober affair
than I might have expected, if rousing enough when the central
dance gets going. Donner: Sturm has genuine menace, and
those timpani really engineer some chaos and trembling. The
poor piccolo player makes the most of the only notes they have
in the entire symphony – yes, I have been that soldier – and
the sense of wild storm is contrasted by the calm and rousing/awakening
feel engendered by the opening of the thanksgiving. Pletnev
rightly doesn’t mess with Beethoven’s ‘big tune’, but gives
it full expression through all its variations, and propels us
towards an anti-heroic finale which is the equal of any in its
disarming simplicity.
The Symphony
No.8 opens in more of a stately fashion than some of the
more rousing and overtly sunny versions we’ve come to know and
love. Pletnev maintains this sense of sustained elegance, and
uses the extra space to give shape and emphasis to Beethoven’s
vertical accents and lines of counterpoint. The wider spaces
also inject a feeling of suspense and anticipation I don’t remember
hearing much in other versions, and in any case he somehow avoids
making the first movement lumber and linger – swinging along
with sturdy refinement. The Allegretto scherzando has
few surprises in store, but is presented with superb poise and
wit. Restraint and elegance are also features of the waltzing
Tempo di Menuetto, which has a Mozartean lightness of
touch under Pletnev’s baton – the tympani for once adding orchestral
colour rather than thundery thwacks. The orchestra is finally
let rip on the Allegro vivace of the finale, which restores
the balance of tightly spectacular playing with the transparency
of beautifully well controlled balance and dynamics.
Dramatic and exciting
as it is, there are also few real departures from tradition
when it comes to the Symphony No.9. It’s all very well
executed and exciting as you’d expect, but the realisation is
probably more one of Beethoven’s fait a compli when it
comes to a work like this. You could sail far from the
score as written, but anything beyond slight shifts in emphasis
or tempi end up sounding wilful and artificially imposed, and
Pletnev is intelligent enough to know this. The only big difference
you might notice in this version is in the sound of the choir,
which has occasionally has something more in common with the
more impassioned symphonic cries of Shostakovich than the more
reserved tones of most west European choirs. Good, strong vibrato
is the order of the day here, with the men sounding particularly
effective. There is one funny moment at 13.11 where an apparent
late arrival in the sopranos takes an upward glissando of at
least a major second to find their note, but otherwise the choral
discipline is very good indeed. The soloists are generally good
as well, the only wobbly moment being the Angela Denoke’s line
over the quartet from 13.41 which is a bit wild and uncontrolled.
She redeems herself however at the crucially sensitive moment
at 15.18, where her high note is spot on.
What I love about
Pletnev’s readings is that, in the final reckoning, he really
does pretty much what DG says he does on the tin. I’ve lived
with and enjoyed David Zinman’s bargain set on Arte Nova, John
Eliot Gardiner’s excellent period performances on Archiv, and
the glossy perfection of both analogue and digital Karajan,
but the sheer wealth of associations Pletnev conjures from these
pieces makes this new set something of an extra delight. My
sense is that, unlike most PC conductors, he’s not afraid to
shine Beethoven’s light through the ears of composers who have
come after him. Little fragments that sound a little
like Tchaikovsky, Saint-Saëns, Smetana, any or all of the Strausses
just to name a few; raunchy or subtle tweaks in the balance
which momentarily bring out notes which might be considered
the staples of composers like Charles Ives or Leonard Bernstein
do enough to make this Beethoven more of a stimulating companion
than a gruff and challenging enigma. Listeners may disagree,
it might just be chance or I may just be imagining things, but
to my mind this is a valid approach. Accepting and subtly incorporating
more recent developments which have extended and paid respect
to the Beethovenian tradition may or may not have nothing to
do with Pletnev’s intentions, but if this is a way of re-invigorating
the old dead master then let’s have more – as long as interpreters
are true to the spirit of the composer and respectful to the
spirit of his scores then why ever not. Before we get any e-mails
in angry green ink I am not advocating performances of
Bach in the style of Brahms, and I most certainly do not mean
that Pletnev’s Beethoven sounds anything other than like Beethoven.
Nor am I in any way critical of those seeking to find authentic
period sound, an approach which has its own sense of discovery
and excitement. However, I’ve learned more about Beethoven’s
symphonies through these recordings just by listening than with
any other complete sets I can think of, Harnoncourt and Abbado
included. Love it or hate it, with Pletnev’s imaginative approach
our imaginations are set to work as well, and with that
effect these recordings are more likely to live on in your mind
and draw you back than many others than I can think of.
Dominy Clements