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Ludwig van
BEETHOVEN (1770-1827)
Symphony No. 1 [25:31]
Symphony No. 2 [32:08]
Symphony No. 3 [49:46]
Symphony No. 4 [33:52]
Symphony No. 5 [31:57]
Symphony No. 5 [31:46] *
Symphony No. 6 [44:41]
Symphony No. 7 [39:59]
Symphony No. 8 [25:56]
Symphony No. 9 [69:57]
Piano Concerto No. 1 (cadenzas by Beethoven) [37:14]
Piano Concerto No. 1 (cadenzas by Glenn Gould) [34:45]
Piano Concerto No. 2 [28:48]
Fidelio (1814) [110:00]
Lars Vogt (piano)
Barbara Bonney (soprano), Birgit Remmert (alto), Kurt Streit (tenor),
Thomas Hampson (baritone)
Leonore (mezzo) – Angela Denoke; Florestan (tenor) – Jon Villars;
Don Pizarro (baritone) – Alan Held; Rocco (bass) – Laszlo Polgar;
Marzelline (soprano) – Juliane Banse; Jaquino (tenor) – Rainer Trost;
Don Fernando (bass-baritone) – Thomas Quasthoff;
Arnold Schoenberg Choir; Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra (Fidelio)
Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra (symphonies)
City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra (concertos)/ Sir Simon Rattle
City of Birmingham Symphony Chorus/Simon Halsey
rec. live, Musikverein, Vienna, December 2000, *Musikverein, Vienna,
April-May 2002, Butterworth Hall, University of Warwick, October
1995 (concertos) Philharmonie, Berlin, April 2003 (Fidelio)
EMI CLASSICS 4575732 [9 CDs: 10:00:00]
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This is the latest and, they tell us, the last of EMI’s Simon
Rattle Edition, gathering together the conductor’s complete
forays into certain composers and repertoire. As with any such
project the sets hitherto released have contained both treasures
and duds. Even though not everything here is perfect, this set
sends the series out on a high with his complete Vienna recording
of the Beethoven symphonies.
Not everyone has been convinced by Rattle’s 2002 Beethoven set,
but I admit that I was sold on it from the start. Repackaged
here at bargain price, even if the documentation is minimal,
it makes an outstanding bargain and a fantastic purchase. The
keynote of the set is energy: pulsating, crackling, electrifying
energy. Rattle’s white-hot vision injects these scores with
a level of vigour that I have seldom heard elsewhere on disc.
In particular he relishes the punch and excitement of Beethoven’s
rhythms. Unsurprisingly this approach works best in the Seventh
where the relentlessness of the beat bounds off the page. The
Scherzo, in particular, is unstoppable, while the first movement
is expansive and majestic in its control. Ineluctable, unarguable
logic characterises the unfolding of the Allegretto, secure
in pacing and awesome in its scale, though next to all this
the opening of the finale comes across as surprisingly slow.
This approach also works brilliantly in the early works, particularly
the Second which here comes across as a work of fully
mature genius. The first movement positively crackles, recreating
for me the infectious excitement of discovering these works
– of hearing them for the first time. Similarly, the finale
positively leaps out of the speakers, while the Larghetto
is beautifully judged and gorgeously played. The First
too is full of bustling energy and the Andante is taken
at a fair lick, though this isn’t something Rattle does in all
slow movements. In fact his attitude to period practice on the
whole is fairly à la carte. The VPO’s playing is often
brisk and transparent in the manner of smaller period bands,
but there is no hint of the hair shirts that some period practitioners
bring to this music: Rattle is happy to broaden out and revel
in the beauty of the sound at key moments. On the other hand
the playing is not just homogenous post-Romantic soup; there
are plenty of moments that make you sit up and take notice as
a particular element is highlighted by a touch such as vibrato-less
strings, braying brass or occasional sforzandi. It is
the selectiveness of these touches that makes them effective,
meaning that for most middle-of-the-road listeners they will
find this something to enjoy rather than to distract. As for
the quality of the instrumental playing, with an orchestra of
this stature it is outstanding. I could pick out occasional
moments that stand out for their extra-special quality – the
solo winds in the slow movement of the Fourth, for example
– but there would be too many to make this a useful exercise.
Discovering them for yourself is one of the great joys of this
set.
What about those craggy masterpieces in the middle of the cycle?
Be satisfied that in Rattle’s hands they are not merely safe;
they are towering. He gives us an Eroica of stature and
power. The playing carries tremendous weight and scale: this
is clearly a symphony orchestra we are listening to.
It also feels very live with its minor fluctuations of tempi
and the sense of a conductor straining at the tiller to keep
the great ship on course. There is an almighty sense of build
to the funeral march while the scherzo romps along with titanic
energy. The finale unfolds with logic and argument and the tempo
broadens out majestically (and surprisingly) for a coda which
marks a fitting culmination of not just the movement but of
the entire work. The Fifth is vibrant and dramatic, the
first movement incisive and visceral, while the finale blazes
with a white-hot sheen. As a bonus we are also given Rattle’s
earlier (2000) account of this symphony with the same orchestra.
It’s interesting to compare the two, but the 2002 account is
easily finer: it’s more dramatic, more live and has a better
recording to help it on its way. Only in the transition to the
finale and the emergence into sunlight at the start of the last
movement does it start to rival the later set.
Only in the Pastoral does Rattle’s preference for the
dramatic develop into a problem, the first two movements sounding
taut and even a little strained in places. Things improve after
this: the peasant wedding fairly frolics along and, after a
terrifying storm, the shepherds’ hymn is broad and expansive.
The Eighth, too, is relatively light on its feet with
a satisfyingly big sound to its first and third movements and
plenty of tongue-in-cheek humour to the second and fourth.
Rattle’s Ninth is evidently the climax of his cycle,
not just chronologically but emotionally. Everything here seems
calculated to produce an impact of shattering grandeur, from
the first, stunning emergence of the opening movement’s main
theme through to the headlong dash for the finishing line of
the finale. Not everyone will love it: some will find his selective
pauses irritating and others will quibble with his tempi and
use of stresses, but I was fully convinced. The Scherzo bounds
along with titanic power and, after this, the expansive tempo
of the Adagio sounds daring and inventive. The finale
comes with its own sense of scale, but Rattle’s pacing and control
of the transitions allows it all to unfurl in a way that sounds,
to me, unarguable. He is helped by a top-notch team of singers.
His old friends from the CBSO Chorus guest star, demonstrating
that they have lost none of the power that so distinguished
his Mahler recordings, and his soloists are as starry a team
as one could imagine. Thomas Hampson sings with poetry and refinement,
not just gusto, and both ladies bring lyricism and breadth to
their music. Kurt Streit, too, sounds convincingly perky in
his “Turkish” episode.
So where does Rattle’s Beethoven set sit in the overall scheme
of things? To my mind he carries the best of the old and the
best of the new. He has a sense of structure and scale that
harks back to Furtwängler and Karajan, while his lithe sense
of movement contains the best of the period movement heard in,
say, Norrington and Gardiner. It’s probably still true that
the conductor who best encompasses both of these worlds is Harnoncourt
in his set with the Chamber Orchestra or Europe, but Rattle’s
sound is bigger and somewhat more Romantic. I recommend his
set to anyone who hasn’t planted his flag squarely in the camp
of either extreme. I certainly wasn’t disappointed.
The symphonies are undoubtedly the main reason for acquiring
this set, but the other items are of value too. The CBSO plays
with some fitting period (vibrato-less) twang for much of the
two concertos, and Lars Vogt scales back his often big-boned
playing to accompany in a style that is utterly sympathetic.
Again, though, there is no hair-shirted asceticism in either
orchestra or piano and this is still a performance of red-blooded
vigour. Vogt plays like the master we know he is, and the cadenzas
tickle the listener’s ear suggestively. As another bonus we
are given two versions of the First Concerto: it’s the same
recording but in one version we get Beethoven’s cadenzas and
in the other those of Glenn Gould. Gould’s cadenza for the first
movement is witty and almost Bachian and it works tremendously
well, but his version is too frenetic in the finale, which Rattle
already paces with frantic busyness. Still, it’s an interesting
comparison. I wonder if this was the beginning of a complete
set that never emerged? A pity, but then Rattle’s later achievement
with Brendel takes some beating.
I have already written about Rattle’s Fidelio
elsewhere in these pages. There’s really nothing to add to that,
save to say that after a gap of a couple of years Rattle’s conducting
seems less wilful and Denoke’s Leonore a little more amenable,
but this performance still can’t hold a candle to the likes
of Bernstein or Klemperer.
So if this is the last instalment in EMI’s Rattle edition then
they have gone out on a high. Rattle flowered later in Beethoven
than he did in, say, Mahler or Britten, but for me the results
are every bit as satisfying and deserve comparison with the
best. Throw in the super budget price and the decision makes
itself.
Simon Thompson
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