Reviews by John
Quinn and Tony Duggan
John Quinn
With this release Sir
Simon Rattle completes his cycle of
the Mahler symphonies for EMI. It’s
been a long journey, one that started
back in 1980 when he made his first
recording of Deryck Cooke’s performing
version of the Tenth Symphony – a score
that, like the Resurrection Symphony,
has always been especially close to
Rattle’s heart. It’s been pointed out
several times how carefully Rattle has
built his career. There’s been a great
deal of calculation on his part ...
and I do not use that term pejoratively.
He stayed in Birmingham for 18 years,
building his career and the orchestra
when it would have been so easy for
him to have taken one of the plum posts
undoubtedly offered to him over the
years.
So, too, it has been
with Mahler. He has been patient in
his preparation of these scores and
has not rushed his fences. For example,
he first performed the Fifth a good
number of years ago, by his own admission
didn’t do it very well and so put it
to one side until he judged he was ready
to have another go.
The Eighth was the
last of the symphonies to be taken into
his repertoire. I was lucky enough to
be present in Symphony Hall on the night
in August 2002 that he performed it
for the very first time. Many of those
performers feature on this recording
too. Only one soloist has changed: Juliane
Banse replaces Rosemary Joshua. But
there has been one very important change.
Back in 2002 the orchestra was the National
Youth Orchestra of Great Britain (who
performed superbly for Rattle) but now
he has his old orchestra, the CBSO,
at his command.
A few days after that
2002 Birmingham concert Rattle and his
forces went to the Royal Albert Hall
in London and took by storm the Henry
Wood Promenade Concerts. I have a recording
of that broadcast, which is by no means
put in the shade by this new CD.
One trait (of many)
that is common to the 2002 and 2004
performances is the sheer animal energy
and exuberance of the performance. Rattle
seems to see this problematic score
in one huge sweep and from the first
downbeat the listener is carried along
on a musical flood tide. However, one
interesting fact emerged during my listening.
My first reaction, especially on hearing
Part I, the Veni Creator Spiritus,
was that Rattle’s is an uncommonly swift
reading. I have several versions of
the symphony in my collection and I
expected to find that this newcomer
would be the fastest of all. Not so.
He takes 23’42" for Part I whereas
the other recordings that I possess
range between Leopold Stokowski’s 1950
traversal with the New York Philharmonic
(available as part of that orchestra’s
boxed Mahler cycle conducted by various
hands), which lasts 22’25", and
Klaus Tennstedt (EMI, 1986) who takes
24’40." So Rattle’s energy gives
an impression of speed that is
not entirely borne out by the facts
... though there are some pretty fast
passages, of which more later. Where
Rattle is quicker overall is in Part
II, which he dispatches in 53’54".
By contrast Tennstedt, and Jascha Horenstein,
in his incandescent 1959 live performance
(BBC Legends), require a few seconds
under 58 minutes. The nearest to Rattle
in my collection is Leonard Bernstein
(CBS/Sony, 1966) at 55’04". These
overall timings don’t by any means tell
us the full story but they are a useful
indicator.
In his fascinating
review
of Rattle’s recording of Mahler’s 5th
my colleague, Tony Duggan referred to
Rattle’s "micro-managed" way
with Mahler. I know just what he means
- and, indeed, that’s a description
that could aptly apply to this conductor’s
style in general - though I would prefer
to speak of "thoughtful attention
to detail." Rattle has always been
intent that every detail of a score
should register. More often than not,
this produces illumination but sometimes
it can get in the way of the bigger
picture. My listening to date of this
current performance leads me to the
conclusion (so far!) that any micro-managing
is, on this occasion beneficial. That’s
not to say that I agree with everything
Rattle does but the overall vision is
convincing.
Quite frankly, there’s
comparatively little time for micro-management
in Part I. Here much of the music confronts
the listener head-on, though there are
several more relaxed passages. One of
the key features of this symphony is
that for all the vastness of the forces
employed, for long stretches they are
sparingly used and there are many sections
of chamber-like delicacy. However, most
of these occur in Part II. Much of Part
I is about grandeur, sweeping vision
and ecstatic praise. Rattle, an acknowledged
master of large forces, is in his element
here and, as I indicated earlier, the
movement appears to be over in a flash.
I’ve deliberately compared
this Rattle reading mainly against the
two in my own collection that I rate
most highly. These are Solti’s 1971
studio recording (Decca) and the aforementioned
Horenstein live performance from 1959
(BBC Legends). It seems to me that Rattle’s
recording demands comparison only with
such exalted peers.
Rattle gives Part I
a thrilling, urgent start to which the
marvellous new Symphony Hall organ makes
a telling contribution. Horenstein is
more measured here. His opening also
has life and vigour but the pace is
never such as to threaten a loss of
grandeur or definition. Rattle’s account
of these opening pages has definition
too but perhaps misses a little grandeur.
Solti’s opening, more closely recorded,
is thrilling too, with some ringing
tenors in his chorus. Rattle’s brisk
pace means that he has to slow down
at "imple superna gratia".
By contrast, Horenstein doesn’t need
to do so; in his hands this passage
is as lyrical as Rattle makes it but
one doesn’t feel any loss of impetus.
In the bars leading
up to the first rendition of "Infirma
nostri corporis" (track 3, 0’18"),
Rattle makes a big, rhetorical slowing,
which I find rather jarring. Horenstein
doesn’t resort to such measures because
his tempo allows him greater consistency.
It’s at this point that we realise that
Solti has the best set of soloists (excellent
though the rival teams are) and in this
passage his soloists make particularly
good use of accents to impart definition
to the music.
There’s a grand rhetorical
flourish at "Accende", the
launching point for a tumultuous allegro.
Horenstein’s performance has marvellous
weight and drive here. Despite the limitations
of the rather distant recorded sound
this moment really counts for something
in his reading. Rattle is appreciably
faster. Some may find him too frenetic
here but his performers can live with
the tempo and so the result is tremendously
exciting. Solti is also fast and urgent
though he yields a little to Rattle.
When the opening "Veni Creator
Spiritus" material returns it’s
an immense, theatrical moment for Solti
and he makes it even more overwhelming
than do his two excellent rivals.
In the last few minutes
of Part I the listener is swept along
on a veritable torrent of sound. Rattle
is exuberant and exciting here but towards
the very end (track 8, from 1’48")
I feel he presses the tempo just too
far – an impression I had when I heard
him do the piece in Symphony Hall. For
me, he sacrifices too much power and
grandeur. Horenstein’s account includes
a few fluffed notes but it packs a huge
punch at this point, albeit at (indeed,
because of) a steadier tempo. The performers
give him their all, the solo sopranos
soaring magnificently, and the recording
can scarcely contain the sheer volume
of sound. But Solti, whose totally committed
performance leaps out of the speakers
grabbing the listener by the throat,
trumps even this magnificence. Solti
storms the heavens here, his huge ensemble
crowned by the ardent soprano of Heather
Harper. This is a quite superb culmination
to Part I in the Decca version.
Part II, a setting
of the final scene of Goethe’s Faust
is in many ways a huge contrast to Part
I. It contains some "big moments"
but much of it is on a more restrained
scale and, as Colin Matthews points
out in his liner note, it is a series
of tableaux. The lengthy instrumental
introduction is superbly shaped and
sculpted by Rattle. Here his acute ear
for detail is readily apparent. In the
music that follows the vocal soloists
come to the fore, each having an extended
solo.
David Wilson-Johnson
is splendid as Pater Ecstaticus. John
Relyea, who is commanding in the demanding,
wide-ranging solo for Pater Profundus,
follows him. However, it has to be said
that Relyea doesn’t quite emulate the
magisterial authority of Martti Talvela
(Solti). Talvela, admittedly recorded
under studio conditions, is quite superb,
pitching every note right in the centre.
Horenstein’s soloists are very good
but are recorded more distantly.
Next we hear a Chorus
of Angels. This is a simply marvellous
moment in the Rattle account. When I
first heard it I thought it too rushed.
However, further listening persuades
me that Rattle has judged this passage
splendidly. His singers are infectiously
light-footed. Solti is steadier and
has the Vienna Boys Choir at his disposal.
However, I find his female singers are,
by comparison with Rattle’s, too full-toned
and I love the wide-eyed innocence that
Rattle imparts to these pages. Perhaps
it’s inevitable that in the cavernous
Royal Albert Hall acoustic Horenstein’s
account loses some crispness here.
Jon Villars surmounts
the cruel tessitura of Doctor Marianus’s
first solo well, though I suggest it’s
well nigh impossible for any tenor not
to sound a bit strained here. This solo
is followed by a gorgeous passage for
violins, accompanied by harmonium and
harp. This can all too easily sound
syrupy and sentimental and I’m not sure
that Solti entirely avoids this trap
because he plays the passage slowly
(and his harmonium is too prominent.)
Rattle adopts a more flowing tempo (track
18 0’00" – 1’05") and doesn’t
milk the music but plays it with simple
feeling. I like this very much ... and
Horenstein is similarly successful.
The female soloists
now take centre-stage. There are fine
contributions from Christine Brewer,
Birgit Remmert and Jane Henschel, both
individually and as a trio (track 19)
though Solti has a stellar trio comprising
Heather Harper, Yvonne Minton and Helen
Watts, who all sing splendidly for him.
As Gretchen, I think Lucia Popp has
a slight edge over the excellent Soile
Isokoski (track 20) but in the same
section I find that the singing of Rattle’s
children’s chorus is much preferable
to the "fatter" sound of the
Vienna Boys Choir (Solti).
The short solo for
Mater Gloriosa (track 22) is a key moment.
In his 2002 Symphony Hall performance
Rattle pulled off a tremendous visual
and musical coup de theatre.
His soloist (Rosemary Joshua on that
occasion) sang from a vertiginous, isolated
perch high in the side screens of Symphony
Hall to the right of the organ casing.
She must have been fully fifty feet
above the stage. I suspect Juliane Banse
was similarly positioned this time round
and the effect of distancing is quite
spectacular. The lovely Arleen Auger
(Solti) is too present by comparison.
Horenstein’s soloist, Beryl Hatt, sounds
to have been similarly distant (up by
the Royal Albert Hall organ, perhaps?)
but the moment isn’t quite as daring
as Rattle makes it and is marred by
some bronchial coughing by members of
the audience.
Horenstein’s tenor
(Kenneth Neate) is splendidly heroic
and lyrical at "Blicket auf"
but Jon Villars does equally well for
Rattle. A solo clarinet ushers in the
soft entry of the Chorus Mysticus and
Horenstein is unsurpassed in these few
bars. He achieves a rapt stillness and
thereby prepares the choral entry unforgettably.
The hushed entry of his choir, paced
very slowly, is quite spine-tingling
and not even audience noise can dispel
the magic of these pages. Rattle also
prepares the chorus entry very well
but even he doesn’t match Horenstein
for atmosphere and sheer daring, nor
can his choir sing as quietly as Horenstein’s
or Solti’s. The fortissimo outburst
at "Alles vergängliche"
is like a blaze of sunlight in the Rattle
reading but it’s an equally impressive
moment in the other two recordings.
The very end of the Horenstein performance
is tumultuous (if somewhat dominated
by the drums) and Solti’s recording,
with the full power of the Chicago Symphony
Orchestra unleashed, is formidable.
For me, Rattle rather spoils the final
peroration, as he did in the first movement,
by pressing the tempo too much for a
few crucial moments (track 25 0’45"
– 1’12") though grandeur is achieved
with the final entry of the tam-tam
and organ.
If I’ve expressed some
reservations about points of detail
in this Rattle recording let me remind
readers that I’ve been comparing it
with two other exceptional performances.
Any quibbles on points of detail should
not detract from the overall impressiveness
of Rattle’s achievement here. Solti’s
remains a classic reading, stunningly
recorded (under studio conditions in
Vienna’s Sofiensaal) and with a superb
array of soloists. Horenstein offers
a special experience. There are sonic
limitations but these are as nothing
when set beside the magnificence and
sweep of his reading. Rattle, it seems
to me, offers a "middle way".
With him you get the thrill, the risk
taking of a live performance. However,
with excellent recorded sound and scrupulous
attention to detail in the preparation
and execution of the performance you
also get many of the benefits of a studio
reading.
With a work as complex
and unique as Mahler’s Eighth it’s impossible
to suggest a "best buy," I
think. Indeed, it could almost be an
impertinence. We are lucky indeed that
three such fine recordings, albeit very
different ones, are available. Mahler
enthusiasts will want to hear all three
for each sheds fresh light on this amazing
score.
Though one may not
agree with every detail, this new recording
is a formidable achievement and a fitting
culmination to Sir Simon Rattle’s recorded
survey of the Mahler symphonies. Like
Solti’s version was for three decades
(and in many ways still remains) this
new recording will, I suspect, become
a benchmark. It’s not the last word
on Mahler’s Eighth (there never can
be a "last word" on this piece,
nor on any work of performing art) but
it’s a recording by one of the most
thought-provoking Mahlerians of our
day and one that demands to be heard.
Superbly performed
by all concerned and expertly recorded
by EMI’s engineers, I recommend this
CD with great enthusiasm.
John Quinn
and Tony Duggan
....
There was a time when
the ambition of any young conductor
was to first get a recording contract
and then be allowed to record a complete
Beethoven cycle. Today just getting
the contract is the major achievement
but, contract signed, it seems to be
the Mahler cycle that comes before the
Beethoven.
With this recording
Simon Rattle completes his Mahler cycle
for EMI. I am sure that when he recorded
the Deryck Cooke version of the Tenth
with the Bournemouth Symphony in 1980
the young pretender had no idea that
he would, twenty-five years later, have
racked up the whole canon, including
a second recording of the Tenth with
the Berlin Philharmonic of whom he would,
by then, be Chief Conductor. So this
was not a "conscious" cycle, rather
it was one to be made up as it went
along.
While EMI's publicity
makes much of the "three cities" represented
by it, the recordings have followed
as individual projects and, more interestingly,
projects that have represented the rise
and rise of Simon Rattle: blue-eyed
boy of British music, future Knight
of the Realm and all-round glittering
hope that is certainly showing fulfilment.
Now with this Mahlerian finale back
in Birmingham where it all properly
got into its stride it seems a good
idea briefly to take stock of these
steps in the irresistible rise of Rattle.
The first thing that
needs to be said is that it is surprising
just how inconsistent the cycle now
really seems; a work still in progress.
This is over and above the fact that
no conductor has ever conducted all
the symphonies with equal consistency
and irrespective of my personal predilections
for Mahler interpretation. Neither do
I think it has anything to do with the
fact that some of the recordings come
from early in Rattle's career and so
might repay re-recording now. His interpretation
of the Tenth, for example, the only
one he has re-recorded, is largely unchanged
between his first recording in Bournemouth
and its remake in Berlin. Indeed there
are some grounds to believe that the
first version is superior even though
the second is still mightily impressive.
I think the fault, if fault it really
is, lies with Rattle himself and his
own particular approach to Mahler. When
it all works it works superbly. When
it doesn't the results are mildly disappointing
though never without merit. A case of
comparing the very good with the outstanding.
The cycle as a whole
is far from being a central one, therefore.
No shame in that and certainly no reason
to pass it by. Mahler is nothing if
not a conductor's composer par excellence.
So this is a cycle to be picked and
chosen but certainly one that deserves
attention because Rattle's love and
knowledge and insight into Mahler's
music shines through, even though there
are times when he is his own, and Mahler's,
bane. Must-haves, for me, would be the
Second, Sixth and Tenth in either version.
These three should be on every Mahlerites
already creaking shelf. Fascinating
but flawed are the Seventh in a slightly
cramped "live" recording made at Aldeburgh
and the Fifth which, for me, exposed
Rattle's propensity to "micro-manage"
the music into submission in a symphony
I have never felt he was entirely at
ease with. To be avoided are the Fourth
which is too mannered where it should
flow, and the Ninth which suffers from
too wide a dynamic range in the recording
and not enough experience of conductor
and orchestra together. Rattle certainly
needs to re-record the Ninth. The First
and the Third are well recorded and
well played, good choices, but they
are not in the "killer" class of the
competitors, old or new. The "Das Lied
von der Erde" still impresses greatly
with its focus and its crystal clarity,
but there are more involved versions
to be had and in that work involvement
is crucial.
Which brings me, at
last, to the new Eighth and let me say
straight away that I would not include
this in the "must-haves" rather in the
"fascinating but flawed" group. Even
though, as is so often with Rattle,
the flaws are not without interest in
themselves, as we shall see. You will
certainly hear as good a set of soloists
since Solti's matchless constellation
on Decca. The choruses are superbly
prepared and capable of anything Rattle
asks of them - and in faster passages
he asks a lot - and they have depth
and resonance when needed. The orchestra
plays well also, especially in the solos
and the chamber-like, pared-down, passages.
But I think they could do with more
critical mass in the closing peroration
and at the climax to Part I particularly.
The recorded balance is almost ideal
between chorus and orchestra although
the general sound picture is closer-in
than I think benefits this work. Your
seat is somewhere at the front of the
first circle. There were times when
I longed for the balance of the Royal
Albert Hall from Rattle's 2002 Proms
performance with the National Youth
Orchestra. However, this does mean that
the particular character of Rattle's
approach to the work is heard to good
effect and so I think it suits this
performance very well.
In both Parts, but
most especially in Part I, Rattle seems
more aware than most conductors of the
symphonic aspect of this work which
might, for some people, be rather constricting
and lead to an impression of slight
stiffness in music that needs to burgeon.
He presses forward from the very start
with just enough weight to give power
where needed, but this is certainly
a great start with real propulsion.
He holds back imperceptibly in the passages
for the soloists but there is always
that undertow drawing us on. In the
crucial double fugue at "Accende Lumen
Sensibus" the choruses perform miracles
of ensemble with every line clear; a
tribute to the engineers as well as
the singers. The climax at the recapitulation
of "Veni Creator Spiritus" sees Rattle
applying the brakes for dramatic effect
and this too comes off well. However
I mentioned earlier the lack of real
critical mass by the orchestra at climaxes
and here this aspect did disappoint
me. Horenstein on BBC Legends (BBCL
4001-7) has maintained a slightly slower
overall tempo for the whole movement
and doesn't need to slow down so much
when he reaches this moment. That aspect,
the acoustic of the Royal Albert Hall,
more choristers, and an orchestra that
has that very critical mass missing
from the CBSO delivers a climax here
that could remove the cladding from
a nuclear reactor, so shattering is
the Part I climax in that great recording,
something beyond the scope of Rattle's
performance. At the end of Part I Rattle
maintains his fleet tempo to the end
where Wyn Morris in his old Symphonica
recording broadens very slightly to
shattering effect and where Horenstein
with his modular tempo simply holds
on to what he has all through maintained
and leaves us gasping and his audience
applauding. No audience applause for
Rattle and his performers, by the way,
but more of that later.
In a recent interview
Simon Rattle talked of what had brought
him at last to the Eighth Symphony mentioning
in particular "really going back to
Bach and learning once again to fall
in love with counterpoint". This aspect
is certainly in evidence in Part I and
does make a positive contribution in
terms of clarifying the lines, as I
think I have indicated. However I think
in Part II, where the Bachian impression
seems in even greater evidence, it starts
to become a disadvantage. Did Mahler
really want Part II to have so much
of a Bach cantata about it as I think
it does? Listen in the orchestral prelude
to the woodwinds' contributions and
to the pizzicati and then think of Bach
and you will surely hear what I mean.
Certainly I think that the fleeter tempo
approach that is carried on from Part
I does rather "dry up" this late romantic
setting of Faust even though it knits
it together structurally to a greater
degree than usual. Call me old fashioned,
but I think both Goethe and Mahler need
a lot more elbow room than Rattle gives
them in Part II. I'm all too well aware
of each compartmentalised episode coming
and going and not leaving very much
of an impression which cannot be right.
The symphonic imperative is in evidence
again but here I think it just inappropriate,
at least to this degree. There are virtues,
of course. I love the passages for the
children, and the three women have a
chaste and limpid quality. But contrast
these with passages when the music demands
more heft, more romantic weight and
old world passion. There is insufficient
weight in the orchestral prelude when
it demands it, for example, and the
two great interventions by the tenor
as Doctor Marianus are too contained
where they should storm the very heavens.
So there is little rapture in "Blicket
auf" and the sheer effrontery of "Hochste
Herrscherin der Weit" is only approximated.
But what I miss most of all in Part
II is a sense of occasion from this
most public of Mahler's works. A feeling
that I am participating in a piece of
theatre, a communal experience. Listening
to recordings by Horenstein, Stokowski
and Scherchen I think I get a whiff
of what it must have been like to sit
in the exhibition hall in Munich in
1910 when Mahler himself gave the performance
of his life and that's what I really
want.
The new Rattle recording
is flagged as a "live" recording but
you would never know from listening
to it and the three dates indicate a
patching together of three different
performances. No applause at the end
of each part, no sense of an audience
present, not even a sense of performers
living through the drama of delivering
this most complex of works in front
of paying customers. For me "live" should
always mean "live" with all the positive
elements that brings to those truly
"live" recordings I have already mentioned.
Rattle's recording should therefore
be considered a studio recording but
since I've heard even studio recordings
which give a greater sense of a "live"
experience - Morris, Solti, Bernstein,
Tennstedt - it is even harder to know
how to advise as to whether you need
to buy this recording in particular
over any other, but I must try. However,
I would point you to my survey of Mahler
recordings where my preferences for
recordings of the Eighth are dealt with
in detail.
What we are presented
with here is, I am sure, the conception
of Mahler's Eighth Simon Rattle meant
us to hear. By that I mean any shortcomings
that I may find in it are certainly
not as the result of any shortcomings
on Rattle's part. This is what he meant.
It is a lean and direct Eighth, one
that fits easily on to a single disc.
Not one without expressive points but
one which seems intent on a Bach-like
clarity and sense of direction and structure
as an imperative. This accounts for
its apparent lack of some grandeur and
that all-important sense of occasion
when compared with more familiar versions.
Especially those which genuinely capture
the "live" experience in which this
work surely needs to be heard best.
I was not especially moved or inspired.
Rather I was absorbed by a different,
very refreshing approach. In the end
that makes it recommendable as an alternative,
if not cherishable as a must-have.
Tony Duggan
City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra/Sir Simon
Rattle 
