rec. 4-8 August 2011, L’église de la Madeleine, Paris
    
Readers of MWI will have spotted my enthusiasm for the 
      previous volumes in this series: see reviews of with 
Volume 
      1, 
Volume 
      2 and 
Volume 
      3. This fourth volume shares its recording dates with the third in the 
      series, and the balance between colourful detail and acoustic atmosphere 
      is every bit as good as with all of the other symphonies so far.
       
      If you’ve never heard these pieces before you are in for a real treat. 
      I’ve never heard the opening 
Moderato of the 
Seventh 
      Symphony sound so heroic and sparkling. There is always the risk that 
      this music can end up rather bombastic, but there is so much energetic brightness 
      in the Madeleine church on this occasion that the effects are no short of 
      breathtaking. I clocked Joseph Nolan’s tempo in the opening of the 
      second movement as closer to quarter-note/crotchet = 42 rather than the 
      marked 52, but a broader approach is something I’ve become accustomed 
      to and to appreciate from this performer. Beautiful sound and a marvellous 
      legato fluidity turn this into something I doubt Widor would have argued 
      with, and the contrast this generates with the 
Andante variations 
      further along makes for another masterly reading. Nolan appreciates the 
      need for forward motion in the lyrical dance which opens the third movement, 
      so he is only a touch under the 54 marking, and the gently swinging one-in-a-bar 
      is elegantly Gallic. Only a fairly small detail, but there is a little controversy 
      further along where the sustained trumpet notes are marked 
Piano, 
      but the registration holds sternly onto what might generously be termed 
      a 
Forte – bearing in mind that the opening of the second 
      movement is also marked 
Forte – this rather covers up the 
      notes lower in the instrument and can only be regarded as perhaps something 
      as a miscalculation on the part of the composer or a registration which 
      might have taken to a slight tweak.
       
      I confess myself to being somewhat emotionally attached to the fourth movement 
      of this symphony, and the effect of the slowly moving melody with its swiftly 
      undulating accompaniment – turned into almost whispering figurations 
      in this case – is a sheer joy. After this, the opening of the fifth 
      movement is akin to unlocking the door to Nirvana, Nolan’s tempo again 
      closer to 53 rather than the marked 63 but perfectly in proportion with 
      the rest of his spacious and warmly all-embracing performance of the rest 
      of the work. I’d never made quite the connection to tonality with 
      this piece and its influence on musicians such as Messiaen, but the whiteness 
      of the C major chord within the first minute of the finale is truly striking 
      in this performance. This is the launch-pad for some truly searching tonal 
      twists and turns, but after such a shot of Tequila we’re ready to 
      take on remoteness of any kind, trusting our guides to thrill us and deliver 
      us safely back to, where? – to 
A major? – whoooeeee! 
      Ates Orga’s booklet notes describe this and the ride throughout the 
      entire work as being “at times near-Sibelian in anticipation” 
      and I couldn’t agree more.
       
      Talking of Messiaen, isolate the first two bars of the 
Eighth Symphony 
      and you are there and nowhere else. Contemporary commentator John R. Near 
      raved about this work’s “Mahlerian scope”, considering 
      it “the ultimate achievement in the art of organ composition.” 
      As with the previous symphony, the opening movement lays out a store of 
      remarkable effects, in this case growing out of and at times appearing to 
      retreat into themes of relative naivety. At over ten minutes this is one 
      of the most overtly ‘symphonic’ of these movements, and the 
      capabilities of the instrument and performer are indeed examined to the 
      full. The second movement’s relaxed and disarming lyricism recalls 
      Mendelssohn, the mildly contrasting tonal atmosphere of the central section 
      something from which we are safely delivered by a celestially elongated 
      cadence.
       
      You will no doubt have heard the 
Allegro third movement a fair 
      bit quicker on other recordings as compared to here, and Nolan hovers more 
      around 104 in comparison to a metronome mark of 132. This offers a good 
      deal more detail and reveals complexities hidden in some other more precipitous 
      performances. Nolan finds excitement in the building of tensions as the 
      themes develop and textures expand, but we don’t really reach any 
      kind of fever pitch or 
‘Hexentanz’ as suggested in 
      the booklet. This is the only place in the entire cycle so far where Nolan’s 
      broader tempo has arguably gone too far.
       
      My score has a 
Prélude as a fourth movement which seems 
      to have been ditched in the 1901 revision and is ignored by performers in 
      general. With the truly monumental 
Variations in fourth place the 
      main weight of the second half of the symphony is contrapuntal, the passacaglia 
      a vast movement with “a magnificence and strength to equal the mightiest 
      in Beethoven, Brahms and Bruckner.” The scale and ambition of this 
      movement, superbly paced by Nolan, demands a cooling-off period which arrives 
      in the form of a gentle 
Adagio, further demonstrating the softer 
      registers of the organ and Nolan’s expressive phrasing. The 
Finale 
      is another of Widor’s movements which can appear overbearing and overly 
      grandiose. Joseph Nolan keeps the rhythms tight and gives the notes enough 
      articulation to allow for space and lightness to shine through. There is 
      a funny moment at 2:11 where a B flat is allowed to clash against an A perhaps 
      a little too heavily. With the repetition two bars later it sticks out less, 
      but the B flat is an ornamental grace note and shouldn’t appear on 
      top of the A like a stacked pancake. Leaving this picky comment aside the 
      movement fully lives up to its description by Riemenschneider as a thing 
      of “almost barbaric splendour and exuberance”.
       
      I’ve left out comparisons with other recordings, but comments made 
      in the other reviews apply here. Joseph Nolan’s cycle of Widor’s 
      
Organ Symphonies is a potent force in terms of both performance 
      and recording and to my mind sweeps aside the competition with consummate 
      ease.
       
      
Dominy Clements