Eight discs for the price of three is the promise given on the 
                back of this bumper Bergen box from Bis, and staggeringly good 
                value it is too. These recordings have of course been released 
                before, and on SACD. Not having heard any of the SACD versions 
                I have no comment to make on any advantages to be had from having 
                this technical aspect, but would suggest that, with the cracking 
                sound quality on offer throughout this set we’re well served by 
                these stereo versions, and I can’t imagine any complaints from 
                anyone. These recordings have already received numerous accolades 
                and awards, and the entire series received the Grieg Award in 
                2007, the year of the hundredth anniversary of the death of the 
                composer, as well as a very special commendation by the UK Grieg 
                Society the same year. This coming to a Norwegian orchestra and 
                conductor might not be surprising, but in repertoire which has 
                been some of the more widely represented in the catalogues for 
                years has to make this something of a milestone. All of the links 
                in this review will take you to the other MusicWeb reviews of 
                these discs as they appeared singly, providing further background 
                and insights. The booklet notes for the box are good, but not 
                nearly as detailed as those for the original releases – some small 
                compensation to those who shelled out at the time. 
              
Disc 
                  1 opens with the concert overture I høst (In Autumn), 
                  orchestrated from a piece originally written for piano duet. 
                  This substantial fantasy has a dramatic, craggy opening, with 
                  plenty of that Nordic spirit which makes one believe in the 
                  power of landscape to influence art and the spirit of countless 
                  mythologies. This is a moving prelude to what has almost become 
                  a concert-hall cliché; the Piano Concerto in A minor. 
                  This has to be one of the pieces no self-respecting collection 
                  would be without, but with so many versions on offer it is hard 
                  to take one’s pick. My own much-played version has been that 
                  of Murray Perahia with the Bavarian RSO and Colin Davis, originally 
                  on CBS but now available on Sony. I have no real allegiance 
                  to this particular recording other than not having felt any 
                  particular need to seek much in the way of other performances. 
                  With Noriko Ogawa and Ole Kristian Ruud I, as have others before 
                  me, felt myself discovering the music anew. Ruud and the Bergen 
                  Phil have, as they already did with I høst, a way of 
                  bringing out the hard, granite grit in the centre of this almost 
                  over-familiar music, such that the familiar flowery romanticism 
                  almost becomes a secondary feature. The combination of that 
                  high-romantic idiom alongside Grieg’s native folk-feel material 
                  is fused into a heady brew in this recording. Ogawa’s cadenza 
                  in the first movement has a truly thunderous opening, and the 
                  storm clouds are still very much present as the orchestra comes 
                  out of retreat. With the Adagio the sense of drama continues, 
                  with any limpid or dewy sentimentality only given a much space 
                  as is indicated in the score, which in fact is not much when 
                  the piece is played properly. The dance-like impact of the final 
                  movement is full of controlled dynamism, superbly articulated 
                  by winds, brass and strings alike. The final cadenza and conclusion 
                  is a sonic marvel, as well as a performing triumph. Full of 
                  emotional charge and wonderful playing, this is a ‘Grieg Piano 
                  Concerto’ for keeps, and bodes very well indeed for the rest 
                  of this box.
                
The final work on 
                  disc 1 is the Symphony in C minor, which was famously 
                  the result of Niels W. Gade’s advice to Grieg to “go home and 
                  write a symphony” instead of prolonging his studies. Grieg himself 
                  withdrew the work, and it was only revived in 1981. Full of 
                  a similar youthful freshness to Nielsen’s first symphony, this 
                  work has plenty of vigour and charm, with sweeping themes and 
                  a generally uplifting feel. The Grieg fingerprints of descending 
                  bass lines, major/minor relationships and a potent sense of 
                  landscape and national character are all there within the conventional 
                  pattern of a romantic four movement symphony form, albeit with 
                  some lengthy transitions of lesser originality. This is certainly 
                  no lightweight filler, and is well deserving of its place in 
                  the repertoire. The Bergen Philharmonic does the piece proud, 
                  imparting a character and sense of involvement that I’d not 
                  yet heard in this music. Grieg’s native town was Bergen, and 
                  this might have something to do with the musicians’ sense of 
                  connection to the music, despite any weaknesses we might find 
                  in it as a whole. Whatever the reason, in my book, this is the 
                  recording which we should all have on our shelves.
                
My reference for 
                  Sigurd 
                  Jorsalfar has long been that with Neeme Järvi and the 
                  Götheborgs Symfoniker on DG, the one which acts as a filler 
                  to his ‘complete’ Peer Gynt, of which more later. Rich 
                  orchestral sound aside, this was always a piece I felt had just 
                  a bit too much nationalist fervour in Järvi’s recording, and 
                  as a result it would more often as not be turned off whenever 
                  Peer Gynt had finished. Ole Kristian Ruud’s percussion 
                  somehow sounds less martial than Järvi’s, and the recurring 
                  chorale-like theme more like a lyrical hymn or anthem than a 
                  statement of national identity being rammed down one’s throat. 
                  This is something of an extreme comparison I admit, but the 
                  Bis recording is the one to which I know I can return. Baritone 
                  Håken Hakegård is heroic as soloist, and the men of the Bergen 
                  Philharmonic Choir are throatily lusty, like a real crowd of 
                  soldiers. By contrast, Kjell Magnus Sandve is rather lightweight 
                  for Järvi, the lower range of the music going just too far down 
                  for his tenor voice.
                
The rest of disc 
                  2 is taken up with works which were less familiar to me. Landkjenning 
                  or ‘Land Sighting’. This work for baritone, male choir and 
                  orchestra was part of a projected but never to be completed 
                  operatic collaboration between Grieg and the Norwegian poet 
                  Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson. Ancient hero King Olav Tryggvason is 
                  taken strongly by Håken Hakegård, and there is plenty of Nordic 
                  testosterone flying around. The melodrama Bergliot depicts 
                  the destiny of a woman, powerfully, sometimes frighteningly 
                  played by Gørild Mauseth. Those Norwegian women certainly know 
                  how to shout, and the language seems to lend itself well to 
                  passionate outbursts. We can be grateful that all texts are 
                  provided in translation at the back of the booklet, but to be 
                  honest I’ve rarely found the need: such humanist sentiments 
                  speak in some direct way to the soul, and are surely hard to 
                  misinterpret. Besides, I greatly enjoy the strength and rhythmic 
                  potency in the Norwegian language without picking through reams 
                  of translated text to find out the exact meanings of each sentence. 
                  The Funeral March in Memory of Rikard Nordraak was written 
                  for a composer friend of Grieg, and appears here in the version 
                  for symphony orchestra by Johan Halvorsen which was played at 
                  Grieg’s own funeral. If you are looking for demonstration sound 
                  quality, the bass drum from about 1:10 and onwards will give 
                  your woofers a workout, and the winds and brass are given chilling 
                  definition as well. The Mountain Thrall was entirely 
                  new to me, but has some gorgeous melodic shapes. The text is 
                  a traditional Norwegian poem about someone being led astray 
                  in the woods by a maiden troll, but is more of an allegory; 
                  telling mankind to stop messing around and get itself sorted 
                  out in the same way as the herring and the squirrels, none of 
                  whom have problems finding a mate.
                
The grim-sounding 
                  Bjørnson saga of King Olav 
                  Tryggvason has its remaining fragments on disc 
                  3, with beautiful, clean singing by soloists and choir. 
                  This dark drama is rich in nationalistic feeling, but still 
                  has much good music to offer, and shows the way for some of 
                  the characteristics found in Peer Gynt. Another piece 
                  intended for use with Bjørnson’s work is At the Cloister 
                  Gate, intended as an interlude for another play around the 
                  subject of ancient history, that of the Swedish hero Arnjot 
                  Gelline who fell at the battle of Stiklestad in 1030. It 
                  is much to Grieg’s credit that all of these bits and pieces 
                  still make for excellent concert music, but with the opening 
                  Solveig’s Song of the collection Six Songs with Orchestra 
                  it is clear that the composer had no problems about removing 
                  ‘the best bits’ from other works and using them as set pieces. 
                  This Solveig’s Song is a tad slower than I’ve been used 
                  to hearing it, but this takes nothing away from the beauty of 
                  Marita Solberg’s singing. With the diversity of sources this 
                  is somewhat less than a cycle of songs, but each has its own 
                  atmosphere and beauty, greatly enhanced by the sensitivity of 
                  the orchestral playing. The gorgeous Last Spring is one 
                  you could play on a loop. As has been noted elsewhere, the performances 
                  of this and the other songs avoid slushy sentimentality; jerking 
                  the tears with relatively straight but finely wrought performances. 
                  The addition of At Rondane is thanks to another arrangement 
                  by Johan Halvorsen, providing a fine conclusion to this most 
                  attractive of vocal programmes.
                
Discs 4 and 5 are 
                  dedicated to Peer 
                  Gynt. My associations with this piece are that of playing 
                  Neeme Järvi and the Götheborgs Symfoniker’s DG version at high 
                  volume first thing on Sunday mornings while on holiday in a 
                  small cottage in Friesland, so my ‘complete Peer Gynt’ pre-programming 
                  leads me to make a direct comparison. As so often with two such 
                  high quality recordings this is a case of swings and roundabouts. 
                  Both have swathes of Norwegian text which will go over the heads 
                  of us poor non-speakers and the Bis recording is more complete 
                  in this regard, but with Järvi the sense of high drama is potent 
                  throughout, and his 1987 DG recording has Barbara Bonney in 
                  the all-important role of Solveig. Ole Kristian Ruud is punchier 
                  and crisper in his approach to the more dramatic moments in 
                  the orchestral music, and with a marginally less plush though 
                  certainly no less dynamic sound I feel more of a sense of contrast 
                  in the colours he has from the instrumentalists. The all important 
                  hardanger fiddle is more distant, at times too distant to my 
                  mind with Bis, and only semi-audible in the opening of the Halling 
                  scene in the first act. Bis’s production has however far 
                  more of a theatre atmosphere, with Ibsen’s texts appearing more 
                  often over the music, so the sense of perspective does have 
                  logic. Järvi’s is more of a concert-hall performance. With Ruud 
                  you can close your eyes and let your imagination take you through 
                  the play – Grieg’s music functioning more as it would do in 
                  the theatre or opera house. Carrying on a series of A/B comparisons 
                  between these two versions I find myself more drawn to the Bis 
                  recording on just about every level. Much as I hold an affection 
                  for the older DG recording, I think it safe to say this Bis 
                  version would be my desert island performance – with only the 
                  increased level of Norwegian text as a possible caveat for those 
                  who prefer to have more of the uninterrupted music, but then, 
                  that’s surely what the suites are for.
                
Grieg published 
                  his Peer Gynt Suite a few years after completing the 
                  original score. The suite’s popularity lead to it being renamed 
                  Peer Gynt Suite No.1 when the second suite was published 
                  in 1892. The music from these suites became so popular that 
                  they became public property, appearing in so many arrangements 
                  and versions that the composer hardly recognised his own work 
                  when encountering it at a concert in Monte Carlo in 1893. A 
                  side effect of this was however to open doors to performances 
                  of Ibsen’s play, which has received numerous performances where 
                  it otherwise might have been neglected. As a member of numerous 
                  youth orchestras I too remember several performances at which 
                  Grieg might have had a hard time recognising his own work, but 
                  the playing from the Bergen Philharmonic is second to none. 
                  The all-important string sound is a lush, verdant field, from 
                  which Grieg’s elegiac melodies grow with ineffable poetic beauty. 
                  In the Hall of the Mountain King receives a suitably 
                  creepy build-up, and the brass snarls early on are tremendously 
                  evocative.
                
Referring back to 
                  disc 2, and we have here the wind band version of the Funeral 
                  March in Memory of Rikard Nordraak, which was Grieg’s own 
                  arrangement from the piano original. The more acidic sound of 
                  the wind orchestra if anything give this piece an even more 
                  chillingly tragic feel than the opulence of the orchestral version, 
                  and I am very glad it has been included in this set. Grieg’s 
                  only substantial work for two pianos, the Old Norwegian Melody 
                  with Variations is another work which was less familiar 
                  to me. A quick look at other versions show it has made fewer 
                  inroads into commercial success, and listening to the piece 
                  one can hear why. The music is very good, and characteristically 
                  ‘Grieg’, but lacks the immediate appeal of his songlike themes 
                  or programmatic imagery. In fact, all of these features are 
                  there, but you have to search harder to find them – an indication 
                  of some changes in direction in the now older Grieg. The work’s 
                  origins meant that it wasn’t an instant hit, with few homes 
                  boasting two pianos. Grieg spent five years working on the orchestral 
                  arrangement, and was evidently convinced of its strengths and 
                  potential. The overall impression is one of a suite of connected 
                  character pieces rather than an academic set of variations on 
                  a theme, and while it might take you a while, I can imagine 
                  many listeners finding in this a new work to extend an appreciation 
                  of Grieg’s character as a composer. Klokkeklang or ‘Bell 
                  Ringing’ is another such piece. From the Lyric Pieces Op.54, 
                  it was originally intended as the opening movement, but Grieg 
                  was concerned that audiences might be put off by its radical 
                  nature. As a result, it is often heard on its own, and its fine 
                  orchestral colour and sonorities may indeed give you a surprise 
                  – not as a ‘difficult’ piece, but certainly one which presents 
                  Grieg as a composer capable of bringing off some quite modern 
                  sounding, impressionistic effects. 
                
Disc 7 opens with 
                  the Holberg 
                  Suite. This was another piano work arrangement from 
                  an original ‘old French style’ piano suite, but the string orchestra 
                  soon became a staple of the repertoire and it is easy to hear 
                  why this should be so. The quality in the Bergen strings has 
                  already been noted, and as a homogeneous ensemble they sound 
                  as convincing as the winds do in the Funeral March for Rikard 
                  Nordraak. The sheer effulgent joy in the soloists in the 
                  final Rigaudon is tremendous. The Two Elegiac Melodies 
                  come from two of Grieg’s Op.33 Vinje songs, and these were 
                  extended with another song from the same set in the Two Melodies, 
                  along with one from his Op.21. The other pieces, Two Nordic 
                  Melodies and Two Lyric Pieces were originally written 
                  for piano. There is a general air of melancholy in the bulk 
                  of this programme which might make it less suitable for cheering 
                  one up on a rainy afternoon, but there is no denying the beauty 
                  of the playing or the music. Less is more, and the elegant, 
                  elusive simplicity of some of Grieg’s best tunes is a lasting 
                  resource.
                
The final disc, 
                  number 8, brings us to the highly popular Norwegian 
                  Dances. These were orchestrated from the original piano 
                  duets by Grieg’s friend Hans Sitt, who gave them plenty of extra 
                  punch and pizzazz, with percussion and brass extras helping 
                  out with colour and impact. Another piano duet, the Symphonic 
                  Dances, was arranged by Grieg himself with equal verve, 
                  and the Bergen Philharmonic plays out of their collective skins 
                  in repertoire which they must have performed hundreds of times. 
                  The Lyric Suite is from Grieg’s highly successful fifth 
                  volume of lyric pieces, Op.54. He made his own orchestration, 
                  improving on a version by Anton Seidl from the USA which he 
                  felt lacked the lightness of touch suitable to the music. The 
                  contrasts which emerge have a surprising potency and passion, 
                  particularly in the wonderful Andante espressivo of the 
                  unexpectedly sophisticated ‘Shepherd Boy’. The evergreen March 
                  of the Dwarfs, with its fleeting winds and pizzicati 
                  is a suitably rousing finale to finish off this magnificent 
                  set.
                
              
As far as Grieg boxes 
                go, this has to be top recommendation both for price, and sheer 
                excellence of the performances and recordings. Neeme 
                Järvi’s Gothenberg set of six discs from DG is in fact less 
                than complete, missing out the Peer Gynt suites 
                1 & 2 and quite a few other choice moments you 
                will find in this bargain Bis set, such as the wind band version 
                of the Funeral March for Rikard Nordraak. Presentation 
                is good as ever, with adequate booklet notes written especially 
                for this set, including song texts and translations into English. 
                I am also delighted to see that the paper envelopes for the discs 
                in this chunky ‘slimline’ box no longer have those tedious glued 
                fold-overs. Never mind ‘Bargain of the Month’, this has to be 
                one of the bargains of the year, so my advice is to snap up a 
                copy post haste.  
              
Dominy Clements