Here it is: the final
release in the set of Brahms symphonies from Marin Alsop with
the London Philharmonic. Previous reviews have praised just about
every aspect of this new Naxos cycle, and while I admit to arriving
somewhat late on the scene I have to admit that all expectations
are realised.
So that you know where
I’m coming from, my formative introduction to the symphonies of
Brahms came with the 1983 live cycle on DG with Leonard Bernstein
and the Vienna Philharmonic. The influence of those initial impressions
of intensity and edgy freedom of expression are of course hard
to shake, but there is always more than one way to skin a great
piece of music, and later on I was as likely to be found settling
down with a good book and Herbert von Karajan’s 1989 recordings
with the Berlin Philharmonic. Other versions have passed my way
as well – Günter Wand’s 2001 RCA cycle with the North German Radio
Symphony Orchestra for instance, and those lovely old Bruno Walter
recordings with the Columbia Symphony Orchestra now on Sony, which
still sound surprisingly good given their vintage.
If done properly,
Brahms’s symphonic writing means that you will have read the same
page a multitude of times in that ‘good book’ you have in your
hand while listening. The content and meaning of the words will
remain as obscure as at the first attempt as your ears and attention
are absorbed and enthralled by the lush musical garden that gradually
unfolds through your loudspeakers, or in my case headphones. With
Alsop and the LPO you might as well give up on reading at all,
and give yourself over to a feast of wonderful music-making.
Marin Alsop’s tempi
are measured and sustained in what seems to me an ideal way in
this symphony. The first movement seems at first urbane and restrained,
but the ceiling is set high, and there is plenty of room for bite
and drama in the music – never hurried or unstable, but with a
gloss of perfect preparation which seems to allow the listener
to plunge directly and deeply into Brahms’s inspired vision. The
same is true of the second Andante moderato movement, in
which the winds initially shine with lush resonance. Intonation
is crucial here, and the LSO’s wind and brass are spot on – playing
as one. The timing and anticipation is beautifully measured in
advance of the ‘big tune’ at 8:55, which is turned out here without
histrionics, but as a noble and almost infinite field of sound
– a bounteous source for a composer like Elgar, whose own ‘Enigma’
variations spring immediately to mind.
A lightness of touch
is required of the third movement’s Allegro giocoso, and
Alsop blows away any cobwebs which may have gathered in a sweep
of freshness. There’s a slightly anticipatory rhythm at 4:23 caused
by an edit, but this will hopefully only be noticeable to fully
trained and overly picky reviewers. The final movement brings
back the measured, sustained feel of the first, but with that
extra turbulence, and those quicksilver touches of detail in the
orchestration pointed subtly and superbly by all concerned in
this recording. I was wondering if that slow central section wasn’t
just a little too slow and lingering, but the re-entry
of the full orchestra at around 6:00 is made all the more magical
for being delayed for that extra few ounces of ‘down-time’, and
the final run builds in intensity to create a fully satisfying
close.
The Hungarian Dances
presented here are the ‘leftovers’ from Brahms’s own orchestrations
of nos. 1, 3 and 10, covered in volume 2 of this series. The dances
here have been newly orchestrated by Peter Breiner in an imaginative
commission from Naxos especially for this recording. Breiner’s
versions respect Brahms’s orchestral resonances for the most part,
but inject quite a bit of extra jazzy impact and violinistic Hungarian
idiom, emphasising some of those seriously fun syncopations with
extra percussion and brass. There is a danger of creating a set
of little P.D.Q. Bach monsters here, but with the essence of Brahms’s
ideas held largely intact I admire the way Breiner has stretched
these pieces just enough to make them into genuine orchestral
showpieces, without turning the smiles they bring into disrespectful
guffaws.
I think the way is
clear – I simply must have the rest of this set.
Dominy Clements
London Philharmonic
Orchestra/Marin Alsop
