Listening to these concert performances straight through, in chronological
order, produces a depressing "diminuendo effect". To make sure
this wasn't just aural fatigue, or perhaps Mahler fatigue, on my
part, I listened to the set in reverse order: it didn't change my
impressions of the respective performances.
Maazel has actually brought the Fourth Symphony into the studio twice
before, with mixed success. His Berlin Radio account (last seen on FNAC) was
disjointed, while his more cohesive and spacious Vienna Philharmonic remake
(Sony) was temperamentally cool. The new one improves on those predecessors
in its perceptive details. The first movement, launched at a crisp,
no-nonsense pace, offers numerous instances of warm, tender phrasing; clean
textural contrasts and balances; and delicate, evocative solos — the horn at
16:37 seems to emerge from the distance. It also takes in some underpowered
accents and moments of iffy or insecure ensemble, though Maazel at least
avoids the now-customary "train wreck" between the clarinets and
the first violins in the third measure. There are also some overdone
tenutos of a kind which will bedevil all three performances
here.
The eerie scherzo maintains a dance-like lilt, while the trios sing
cheerfully — the move to D major in the second, at 6:41, brings a particular
outpouring of warmth. On the other hand, Maazel sabotages the
Adagio almost before it starts by his regular, unmarked
tenutos in the opening paragraph. The movement improves as it
proceeds, and the last five minutes are the best. The terraced accelerations
into the climax, beginning at 14:40, are nicely gauged; when, after an
expectant hush, the heavens open at 19:20, you can actually hear the
strings' undulating rhythm; and the high violins in the coda are
ethereal. The finale goes with an easy swing and more unmarked ritards and
tenutos, which Maazel at least handles gracefully. Sarah Fox sings
vibrantly, though an invasive flutter occasionally flattens her pitch, and
the low end mostly disappears.
The best part of Maazel's Fifth is the buoyant
Scherzo.
The first subject is trim and lilting, even when the resonant basses take it
up; the second group, at 2:28, is poised and relaxed. I appreciated the
conductor's firm yet flexible grip on the episode at 5:24 —
it's less a matter of fits and starts than usual
—
and the way the more conflicted
tuttis pick up tonal weight without
losing momentum. The intricate play of instrumental strands and colours is
clear, though woodwinds sometimes register above the marked dynamics. In the
coda, however, Maazel starts the snare drum at 17:30 much slower than the
indicated
Tempo I subito, and then picks up markedly for the
pił mosso outburst a few bars later — a cheap effect in an
otherwise perceptive reading.
The surrounding movements come off variably. The opening Funeral March
impresses with clear, brilliant
tuttis and some nice individual
touches: the "moment of stillness" preceding the second subject is
effective; a slight, unmarked speedup at 11:05 underlines the
passage's mournful quality. In the main theme, however, the regular,
unmarked
tenutos on the pickups quickly become tiresome. Maazel
moves into the second movement without pause, the better to relate it to the
first, and the performance is both dramatic and cohesive. The controlled
turbulence at the start is balanced by the flowing, not dragged,
Bedeutend langsamer at 1:28. The relaxation into 10:37, while
unnecessary (
Nicht eilen - "Don't rush") is
actually graceful.
The
Adagietto is light and clear — and, at 11:16, not unduly slow
— but the sonority lacks body in the middle voices. The last part of the
recapitulation is wistful, and, for once, the bass suspension in the final
cadence registers properly. The
Finale is crisp, vigorous, and
enthusiastic, with real grace in the
Grazioso flashbacks. Its
moments of confident insight — the anticipatory hush at the
pianopianissimo at 5:19, to name one — are offset by others that
feel becalmed or insecure, and bits of inflated rhetoric.
Whatever the respective merits of the performances, these two symphonies
have, at least, been vividly and colourfully recorded, with a nice sense of
depth around the brass chords. Unfortunately, in the Sixth, the engineering
goes drastically wrong. String- and woodwind- dominated textures sound
comparatively muffled and devoid of overtones. A volume boost provides some
of the missing presence, but the sonority remains unduly contained and
"hemmed-in", in a way that flattens dynamic contrasts and deprives
the
fortes of their power. Only the entries of the heavy brass
bring brightness and impact to the proceedings. It seems unlikely that the
engineers for these sessions would have forgotten where to place the
microphones, but the alternative — that the orchestra's sound somehow
changed for the worse at these particular concerts — seems even less
likely.
Still, better sound wouldn't have improved the performance. In the
first movement, some passages are astutely organized, others merely willful.
The transition to the "Alma" theme, for example, is carefully
balanced, with the woodwind chorale nicely shaped; then Maazel lengthens the
three pickups to the actual theme, flagrantly violating the
composer's instruction (
A tempo subito). Here and at several
points in the development, such doings briefly produce uncertain
ensemble.
The simpler middle movements, with the
Scherzo played second,
fare better, although the conductor beats deadpan through most of the
Andante's magical harmonic shifts. The
Finale is
swings and roundabouts. Some of the handoffs between instruments are
seamless, while others don't work. Here and there, unexpected details
enrich the texture; elsewhere, other, familiar ones are obscured. Even the
coda misfires: Maazel sets it up well with an optimistic breadth at 28:41
and a sense of peaceful resolution at 29:11, but the final trombone chorale,
lacking continuity in the actual tone, starts to feel endless.
Although I'd greatly respected Maazel as a stick technician, I
didn't always take to his actual performances and recordings. This
installment of his newer cycle does nothing to change that opinion.
Stephen Francis Vasta
Stephen Francis Vasta is a New York-based conductor, coach, and
journalist
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