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Ludwig van BEETHOVEN
(1770-1827)
CD 1
Symphony No. 1 in C Major, Op.21 (1800) [27.30]
Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op.36 (1801) [34.48]
CD 2
Symphony No. 3 in E Flat, Op. 55, Eroica (1803) [46.50]
Symphony No. 4 in B Flat, Op. 60 (1806) [32.10]
CD 3
Symphony No. 5 in C Minor, Op.67 (1807) [35.13]
Symphony No. 6 in F, Op.68, Pastoral (1808) [40.37]
CD 4
Symphony No. 7 in A, Op.92 (1812) [40.28]
Symphony No. 8 in F, Op.93 (1812) [25.00]
CD 5
Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, Op.125, Choral (1824) [65.46]
Eiddwen Harrhy (soprano); Jean Bailey (contralto); Andrew Murgatroyd
(tenor); Michael George (bass)
Oslo Cathedral Choir/Terje Kvam
The Hanover Band/Roy Goodman, Monica Huggett
rec. 1982-83, St. Giles, Cripplegate, London (Symphonies 1 &
2), and 1983-1988, All Saints, Tooting, London.
NIMBUS NI 5144/8 [5 CDs: 62.28 + 79.06 + 76.00 + 65.38 + 65.46]
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At what point does a recording become ‘historic’? Anyone remembering
some of the very earliest and sometimes highly dodgy period
instrument recordings with young Harnoncourt and others in the
1960s and 1970s might approach this kind of early authentic
instrument project with some trepidation. The 1980s was a boom
period for period performance recordings, and the symphonies
of Beethoven were and still are something of a pinnacle for
any orchestra. The Hanover Band was one of if not the earliest
to record a complete cycle on authentic instruments, alongside
Roger Norrington’s Beethoven cycle with the London Classical
Players originally on EMI Classics Reflexe from 1987-1989 and
now available on Virgin Classics (see review).
Also from the 1980s comes Christopher Hogwood with The Academy
of Ancient Music on Decca’s L’Oiseau Lyre label. In fact, the
experience with these and Roy Goodman’s Hanover Band is by no
means the hair-shirt one you might expect. We’ve come a long
way since 1983, but this pioneering bunch of musicians can still
speak to us even from all those years back in the 20th
century.
Criticism has been levelled at these recordings in the past
for their excess of resonance, and indeed the church acoustic
used is a major feature in each. The Nimbus label used ‘ambisonic’
recording techniques, and these CDs are labelled as being UHJ
encoded. I’ve become something of a fan of SACD of late, but
have seldom heard any of the Nimbus releases actually de-coded
and presumably heard as they were originally intended. The stereo
effect is always good enough, and I must admit to having a soft
spot for the old Nimbus releases with their single ‘soundfield’
microphone technique. These Beethoven symphonies are quite a
rich listening experience, but the first disc with Symphonies
1 and 2 suffers most from acoustic ‘smoke’ around the sound,
and the timpani are also rather boomy compared to the rest of
the recordings, which were made in All Saints Tooting rather
than St. Giles, Cripplegate. What you do notice almost immediately
is the relative softness of the winds against the strings. True,
period winds are softer than modern instruments where string
instruments are still almost exactly the same, metal as opposed
to gut strings aside. The beginning of the Symphony No. 1
does immediately show up this contrast though, the needle sharp
daring of Beethoven’s pizzicato opening in the strings accompanied
by a mellow band of woodwinds and horns who are somewhere ‘way
over there’.
The quirky qualities in the recording are something you can
get used to, and one has to accept that you just won’t hear
absolutely everything. Having tried to get used to John Eliot
Gardiner’s Archiv recording from the 1990s with the Orchestre
Révolutionaire et Romantique I can also report that being able
to hear absolutely everything is not necessarily always the
Holy Grail when it comes to Beethoven symphonies. Gardiner is
pretty much the reference in these works when it comes
to period instrument recordings, but these can also be something
of a rough ride as well – rather uncompromising in some ways,
to the extent that I’ve not played them much, and certainly
haven’t trawled them out when referencing modern instrument
recordings. Goodman’s Hanover Band is a little softer edged,
not so much in the performances but certainly in recordings
which you can listen to for longer periods without feeling you
are constantly having to feel ‘impressed’. I’m afraid the first
two symphonies are a bit too ‘far out’ as recordings to be regarded
as truly successful, Listen to those upward scales in the winds
in the final section of the last movement of the Symphony
No. 1 and you have to strain sometimes to make out what’s
going on. The opening of the Symphony No. 2 also reveals
some strain in intonation in some wind sections, and the strings
can be shown to be a bit scrappy when exposed. There is a great
deal of verve and excitement in the performances and I can find
much to enjoy in them, but in isolation they wouldn’t receive
much of a recommendation.
A few years later, a different location, and everything snaps
into crisper focus with the Symphony No. 3. The drums
are played with harder sticks and are much better in proportion,
the winds and brass are still backed up a bit, but cut through
the strings more effectively and have a better definition. This
is the kind of recording which brought the value of period instruments
to the fore, with lither textures, a more chamber-music footprint
on the score when compared to the likes of the Berlin Philharmonic,
and a set of timbres which revealed the music in unexpected
and refreshing ways. Not everything is perfect, but the sense
of expectancy and discovery outweigh occasional weaknesses and
the mild foibles of the recording. There are delights everywhere,
from the weight of the Marcia funebre to the squirty
natural horns in the Scherzo and massive tumult mixed
with big holes of Haydnesque strangeness of the Finale,
you can imagine something of what the crowds must made of it
all the first time it was played. An attack of newness had indeed
broken out, and the Symphony No. 3 is magnificent and
extraordinary in this recording. The Symphony No. 4 is
more neo-classical and optimistic in its outlook, but this performances
scholarly examination of dynamics, tempo and articulation makes
it another bracing listen. The Adagio in particular is
something of a trot with a long-legged steed than a real slow
movement, but I like it, and the musical narrative of all of
these movements is a path to savour. Some slightly sour violin
moments on occasion take a little away from good wind solos,
but again the sum is greater than the parts, and this is a performance
which would hopefully still grab wild applause even today.
The Symphony No. 5 is always going to be a crucial work,
and I’m not entirely convinced by the opening here in this,
another one of the earliest recorded in the set. Sustained notes
in the strings are undecided whether to vibrato or not, and
the lead violin is distractingly up-front. If you can stand
back from this a bit, there are good horn moments and the pace
and drama are all there, but that string mix is troubling throughout.
The extreme contrast between really quite close and fairly distant
instruments also makes ensemble coherence that much more difficult.
There is still plenty of good playing here and some remarkable
moments, such as the hushed and surreal opening to the final
Allegro, but real enjoyment is something of an
uphill struggle in this case. The Symphony No. 6 is a
good deal more entertaining though the generalised sound and
large acoustic fights against the detail and chamber-music aspect
of the playing in the tuttis. This is a strange set of contradictions,
but what I mean is that it sounds more symphonic and grander
than it needs to or perhaps even should be. This is however
not a small-scale performance, and the dynamic shading is as
well observed and constructed as one could hope for, with the
antiphonally placed violins a nice touch which adds to the sense
of openness in the music, if making headphone listening a tad
disorientating at times. The muted strings in the Szene am
Bach are lovely, and those exquisite harmonic changes later
on are very nicely turned. Lyrical expressiveness turns out
to be a strong feature of the Hanover Band as well as their
punchy rhythmic drive as the peasant’s merrymaking moves into
a fearsomely potent Sturm. The joyful song is gorgeous,
though the accompanying figures in the strings are sometimes
a bit over-present. In all, this is a Pastoral which
can be relished.
The last three symphonies are all from 1988, the last phase
of recording, and less prone to the troublesome sense of danger
which inhabits some of the earliest. The lyrical against dramatic
qualities in this symphony work very well in this case, with
the wind sonorities having sufficient impact to steer the harmonic
pace. That funeral-march Allegretto moves forward with
a satisfying momentum, and builds towards some tremendous
sonorities. The swiftly urgent Presto crackles with energy,
and has to be topped by the Allegro con brio and is,
though the greater extremes of volume result in some less usual
acoustic effects, some of the wind notes being heard more through
their reflection than from the original attack. The Symphony
No. 8 is also very good, with plenty of theatricality through
its lighter textures. Roy Goodman manages some nice moments
of ritardando as well, heightening certain expressive
corners to great effect. This is sunny but also seriously weighty
music making, creating an eighth which is imposing as well as
generously warm hearted and boisterous.
If I appear to skim a little over these last symphonies it is
only because they are less problematic in terms of performance
and recording quality than some of the others. Not without their
usual minor momentary problems, I’m still happy to endorse them
without going into minute detail. The monster Symphony No.
9 does however demand greater attention. Ambitious music
demands scale and stature, and the recording here does rise
to the challenge, providing decent enough balance and filling
the acoustic better than in some cases. There does appear to
be some spot miking now, so for instance the horns pop up in
your left ear more closely than previous experience would lead
you to expect. The bass section is less powerful in the balance
which is a shame, as a firm bottom is something you really need
to carry this work properly. The first movement is good enough,
though its vast canvas sometimes lacks clear direction – perhaps
as much an artefact of Beethoven’s deafness as Goodman’s leadership.
The Molto vivace second movement extends a vaguely unsettling
feeling that we’re hearing a product of encroaching madness
as well as genius. The music is driven on with a consistency
of pace and within fairly narrow expressive parameters, giving
the mind little chance to hook itself onto moments which are
normally pointed out with greater expressive contrast. I remember
one of my lecturers at the RAM pointing out what a ‘bad’ piece
of music the 9th Symphony was, and I think hearing
this version makes me realise what he meant for the first time.
It’s truly eccentric and not less than crazy, but all done so
gloriously and with such daring panache that we’re all left
agape with a kind of awe of disbelief – we can’t really ‘get’
it, so it must be wonderful.
Well, there are wonderful things about Beethoven’s Symphony
No. 9, but this is one of those recordings which challenges
preconceptions and forces a re-evaluation. The final Presto-Allegro
assai throws down the gauntlet one last time, making the
low strings ‘sing’ that recitatief before the vocal entry, and
this is done with great declamatory style here. With a relatively
hectic pace established, the first quiet entry of that famous
tune takes us more by surprise. It pops out like a sketchy doodle.
We all know what it’s going to grow into, but in this case it
has a good deal of work needed before achieving adulthood –
an effect I admire. As for the singers, Michael George is a
bit jowly in tone colour in the solo but is a fine bass, and
the members of the quartet blend well enough together. The choir
is very fine, but perhaps a little recessed in the sound. More
recent research has the Allegro assai vivace a good deal
swifter than we get it here, and it sounds bizarre now to go
back to that now discredited tempo of one beat per half bar
rather than one beat per bar – twice as fast in effect. Being
used to John Eliot Gardiner’s generally faster tempi makes the
first choral Freude, schöner, Götterfunken sound a bit
clunky by comparison, and the rhythmic emphases enhance the
vertical rather than the horizontal, although there are some
remarkable moments. The brass in general tends to sound a bit
isolated, and doesn’t mould too well into the general orchestral
picture, but this is still a performance which leaves an exhaustingly
intense and powerful impression.
This is indeed a ‘historical’ recording, in the sense of its
being a milestone – or at the very least part of a significant
moment in recording history, when the period instrument movement
came of age and proved itself capable of challenging the old
order of symphonic orchestras. There is much to be enjoyed in
this cycle, and much which frustrates. I don’t think by any
standard it can make a claim to be anyone’s first choice for
a set of Beethoven’s symphonies, but that’s no longer the point
with this recording and probably never was. This is a version
which can live next to your box sets by Karajan or anyone else,
and be brought out when you feel the need for a change of sonority
and a different angle on familiar music. To be frank, I hadn’t
expected it to have stood the test of time as well as it has.
We have indeed moved on, and performance techniques, instruments
and aspects of interpretation have all been refined and adjusted
as the years have progressed. Just as with modern instrument
recordings, there is no one option with period instrument versions
of these symphonies. Roy Goodman/Monica Huggett and The Hanover
Band can however still make a splash.
Dominy Clements
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