Pietari Inkinen’s Sibelius cycle continues to frustrate.
His is the third set of Jean Sibelius’ symphonies to be
released by Naxos, third in chronology and, so far, in quality
as well. The first volume featured an impressive if undistinguished
Third Symphony and a flabby, energy-less First. The present
volume is just as inconsistent, for its Fourth is at times gripping
but others curiously slack, and the Fifth is a gangly, awkward
interpretation which feels askew and commits an unpardonable
sin.
The Fourth Symphony is probably the toughest to crack in the
Sibelius canon, or perhaps I say that because I’ve only
warmed to it in the past twelve months. Too long I’d been
put off by the nihilism, the lack of a foothold to use while
ascending its bleak face. Two comparatively swift accounts,
by Berglund with the Helsinki Philharmonic and Ashkenazy with
the Philharmonia, provided an easier introduction to this symphony’s
sound-world.
Inkinen’s account is a curious one. The opening bars are
all bassoons, no cellos or basses; the cello solo afterward,
though, is absolutely fantastic. One thing that has been consistently
outstanding in this series has been the solo work of members
of the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra. The remainder of the
first movement actually goes extremely well; it’s the
best performance on the disc, a dramatic arc of fierce intensity
and moments of great beauty.
Then comes trouble. The scherzo brings a total lack of bite
or attack in the string section, as if they are playing a Tchaikovsky
ballet, and things start to fall apart from that point. For
entries of the winds and brass Inkinen brings the tempo to a
standstill, not that the scherzo was particularly “molto
vivace” to start with. Clearly Inkinen intended the
darkness of the second half to come as a surprise, but this
is a miscalculation: it sounds tacked on! The only thing that
works is the startling fade-out at the end.
The slow movement is clinical, the phrases disjointed in a way
which would have really put me off when I didn’t appreciate
this symphony. In some conductors’ hands this largo
sounds like one massive tragic arc; in others it sounds like
a series of unrelated thoughts jotted on a pad. Inkinen is closer
to the latter than the former. The finale slipped in quietly
with what I thought was intelligent, discreet subtlety, until
it turned out that nearly the entire movement would be played
with that same quiet sensitivity, which works well in some episodes
and badly in others. The sad, lilting second subject around
2:45 is heartbreaking, but the engineers have, through microphone
misplacement, made other portions sound like a glockenspiel
concerto.
The Fifth, as I said, is awkward. It feels like a teenage boy
who is a full head taller than his classmates and not yet sure
how to use his bulk. What do I mean? The first movement moves
strangely, clumsily, across its landscape; some moments are
fast when they should be slow (2:38, 3:50), or slow when they
should be fast (12:48-13:13); heroic when they should be cowed
(7:30-8:05), or tender when they should be heroic (the chord
at 4:51, the strings after 10:10). Where are the timpani and
brass at the big transition point? Why is the coda so unexciting?
Actually, I can answer that: timid horns at 13:12, lack of presence
for the timpani, and the fact that the build-up beginning around
12:00 is unusually dull. The slow movement, at 9:39, feels almost
like a nocturne, still and solemn: Inkinen is actually slower
than Celibidache (9:21) here, let alone Davis/LSO (8:08) or
Vänskä (8:47). The nocturnal feel really works, though
it forces the oboist into a solo (after 8:00) that sounds forced.
In the finale, something quite shocking happens: while delivering
the glorious “swan hymn”, the French horns sound
ugly. I didn’t think it possible! But they have a
nasty bite, a muted harshness, which boggles the mind. Intonation
is suspect and the phrasing, with certain notes “pointed”
and the graceful flow of the notes made clunky and fitful, is
grating to the ears. Then the trumpets cut in too quickly at
6:30 and the final orchestral build-up fails to bring euphoria
or a sense of entry into the heavens. Add to this the ponderous
first movement, the poorly-timed final chords (too, too fast!),
and slightly charmless recorded sound. Besides the timpani and
glockenspiel complaints, it lacks the depth or vividness of
Naxos recordings from Warsaw, Scotland, Seattle, and Liverpool.
Even in the Naxos catalogue there are superior alternatives.
Adrian Leaper and the Slovak Philharmonic have turned in a surprisingly
good Sibelius Fifth; the first movement is rather fast for my
taste, but in the finale the Slovak horns overcome their traditional
shyness and make some beautiful sounds. Better still is Petri
Sakari’s recording with the Iceland Symphony, which, once
you turn the volume up, is outstanding. It’s one of my
top five choices for the Fifth, in fact, alongside names as
illustrious as Celibidache, Berglund (EMI), and Vänskä
- though behind the titanic, euphoric performance by Leonard
Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic. The only blemish on
Sakari’s account is a strange clicking sound in the finale
which might be a chair squeaking but is terribly distracting
and strikes at exactly the wrong moments.
Casting the net more broadly, there are far too many great recordings
of these symphonies to patronize these. In the Fourth I have
a special affection for Ashkenazy, but Berglund is also excellent,
and Bernstein’s (NY/Sony) brings a very special touch
of pathos to the final bars - though Lenny did add church bells
to the finale for good measure. The Fifth Symphony is an incredibly
difficult work to conduct well, but Vänskä’s
reading is near-perfect technically, Bernstein’s the most
satisfying emotionally, and Sakari a satisfying option at Naxos
price.
All that remains to be asked is: how did Pietari Inkinen bring
about such lively performances of Sibelius’ incidental
theatre music (King Christian II, Scenes historiques,
Kuolema) and follow them up with such overcooked recordings
of the symphonies? Klaus Heymann has remarked that he only approved
recording a new symphony cycle because the earlier discs were
so good. The first problem was that Inkinen had previously recorded
no top-drawer Sibelius, unless you count the Valse triste
and Night Ride and Sunrise. The second problem was that
much of this incidental music is in an old-fashioned romantic
idiom, even Tchaikovskian at times, which is well-suited to
a lush, low-energy approach. Anyone who conducts Valse triste
with the same craggy, heroic sense of struggle they bring to
Symphony No. 5 has a problem. Unfortunately, Pietari Inkinen
conducts the Symphony No. 5 with the same laid-back, clarity-first
prettiness he brings to Valse triste.
Brian Reinhart
New Zealand Symphony Orchestra/Pietari Inkinen 
