Ludwig van BEETHOVEN (1770 - 1827)
Coriolan overture, op. 62 (1807) [9:29]
Symphony No. 5 in C minor,
op. 67 (1807-8) [32:53]
London Philharmonic Orchestra/Klaus Tennstedt
rec. live, Royal Albert Hall, London, 30 August 1990 (Symphony), Royal Festival
Hall, London, 23 February 1992 (Overture)
LPO LPO-0087 [42:22]
A live performance of Klaus Tennstedt’s Beethoven
Symphony 5, from the 1990 Proms, is particularly welcome
as he never recorded this work commercially. This recording was previously
released on BBC Legends BBCL4158-2 (review),
a CD which seems to be no longer available, but now comes at about half the
price with a different, much shorter coupling. In recent years Beethoven performances,
influenced by historically informed practice, have become increasingly lighter
in articulation and tone whilst retaining rhythmic vitality. Tennstedt takes
us back to something more grandiose. His approach is passionate, dramatic
and heavyweight. He is aided, too, by outstanding horn playing throughout.
The high G the first violins hold at the end of the first tutti is
a piercing cry. The second theme (tr. 2, 0:47), despite its calmer initial
flow when taken up by the violins, moves relentlessly forward and the strings’
running quavers soon seem eager to tumble over themselves. By the development
the famous opening motto has become an unmistakably dire summons, the only
relief from which is the brief Adagio oboe solo, an individual soul’s
elaboration of the early violins’ high G. This sudden contrast of reflection
is movingly presented with simple eloquence before the intensity reaches its
thunderous climax in the coda. I compared a 1994 live performance by Günter
Wand with the Deutsches Symphonieorchester Berlin (Hänssler Profil PH 14026).
Wand’s emphasis is on structure more than drama. There is cumulative
power but it’s achieved in a transparently orderly manner. Tennstedt
pulls you onto the precipice.
Tennstedt’s Andante con moto, not really a slow movement, is
taken rather too steadily at 10:48. Wand takes 10:25 but the 2014 recording
by the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra/Manfred Honeck (Reference Recordings
FR-718) takes 9:06. Tennstedt is also impeded in the opening theme and first
variation by a too full body of strings which produces a rather treacly effect
in the Royal Albert Hall acoustic. That very acoustic also gives a luminous
glow to the woodwind and it’s their passages which are the most idyllic,
notably their expatiation in the third interlude (tr. 3, from 5:36), in a
world of its own to be brought back to reality by the horns. The movement
is a theme with 3 variations preceded by 3 interludes. The feature of the
interludes is that they incorporate a triumphant fortissimo statement
in C major, thus foreshadowing the close of the symphony. Tennstedt always
makes these statements incandescent, but I began to feel that this results
in overkill which weakens the impact of variation 4, in which the main theme
appears fortissimo. Also, no less important are the searching, even
mystical pianissimo passages in the interludes which precede and
follow the ff statements. Tennstedt is less successful than Wand
in getting these truly pp to magical effect. Wand’s triumphant
elements are still firm and gleaming but don’t hijack the movement like
Tennstedt’s. Wand’s atmosphere otherwise is gentler, encouraging
the listener to be more receptive. Nevertheless, Tennstedt can also be delicate
at times, as in the fine interplay in variation 2 (4:11) between the violas
and cellos’ demisemiquavers and the high sustained notes on flute, oboe
and bassoon. This can also be heard later between the first violins’
demisemiquavers and a 2 semiquaver motif continually passed between bassoon
and clarinet. The cheery warmth of the oboe punctuation of the theme on flute,
clarinet and bassoon in variation 3 (7:03) is also memorable.
The strings’ opening of the Scherzo should be creepy, temporarily calmed
by the addition of clarinets and later flutes and poco ritardandi.
Tennstedt is too flowing and impassive because the tone is too rich for pp
and the poco ritardandi (tr. 4, 0:06, 0:16) too skimpy. Wand gets
all these effects just right. Tennstedt becomes arresting when it comes to
the horns’ entry with the return of the relentless rhythm of the first
movement. Thereafter the progression is tense. Tennstedt is more emphatic
and exciting here than Wand. The Trio (tr. 4, 1:53), that famous passage begun
by cellos and double basses and eventually involving all the strings, is displayed
by Tennstedt with gusto and at a great lick. Thereafter the progression becomes
more impulsive and, when it ends championed by the flute, joyous. Wand’s
Trio in comparison seems initially rather rickety, but his flute is also effective.
Tennstedt brings great clarity to the change of scoring at the return of the
Scherzo: pizzicato strings, jocular bassoon commentary and there’s more
sense of garish display than Wand’s playfulness here. The new spectral
presence and insistence of the drum beat from Wand, always pp, is
more authentic than the funereal boom of Tennstedt’s drum, again a problem
of attaining pp probably owing to the RAH acoustic. Nevertheless,
in sustaining a 6 second crescendo into the C major blaze of the
finale Tennstedt is able to create as much tension as Klemperer did in his
exemplary 1955 recording (EMI 4042752). Though only one second shorter, Wand
thereby seems slightly precipitate.
For sheer weight, grandeur, edge and momentum, Tennstedt performs the finale
as exultantly as anyone from its opening great blaze of affirmation. In comparison
Wand is bright and festive but light. He does, however, offer two advantages
over Tennstedt. Firstly, he repeats the exposition, so you are quickly recharged
with the opening exhilaration. Secondly, he makes the return of the Scherzo
a true pp, so you experience a shiver of fear. In all other respects
Tennstedt outclasses Wand. Early on, from tr. 5, 1:10, the simultaneous falling
tune in the first violins and rising motif in the cellos, followed by the
loud kicking of a rising flourish in the lower strings is very clear, though
the fp effects where cellos, clarinet and bassoons are echoed by
second violins, could be more marked. Antal Doráti does these particularly
well in his 1953 recording with the Minneapolis Symphony (Doráti Edition ADE004).
Tennstedt brings you thrilling multi-layered sound, such as from tr. 5, 3:17
when from the first violins are screaming in tremolo, the second
violins, violas and cellos scampering in running quavers, the wind boldly
delivering their rising motif and the drum adding great thwacks. It’s
a pity that from 7:33 the sequence of exuberant piccolo ascents capping the
orchestral chords is rather submerged in the overall acoustic, something an
engineer could easily adjust under studio conditions. However, the coda (8:15)
taken at a true Presto, has the total engagement and last charge
of adrenalin of a sprinter spotting the finishing line.
Like Symphony 5, the Coriolan Overture is marked Allegro
con brio and begins in C minor but, unlike it, also ends in C minor as
the first theme’s discipline breaks in pieces. The cause of this is
the second theme (tr. 1, 1:30), the potential melting influence of Coriolan’s
mother, wife and children, which returns as a contrast of warmth in C major
at 5:06 and in soft entreaty in the coda (6:53). Tennstedt maintains the first
theme’s unflinching character so well that you are surprised and moved
at Coriolan’s sudden compassion which Beethoven shows reduces him to
nothing. Wand’s faster approach, timing at 8:23 in comparison with Tennstedt’s
9:29, makes the loud flourishes of the first theme more heroic but its softer
restlessness less tortured and the final disintegration less graphic. Both
the Tennstedt live performances on this CD are characterized by discipline,
passion and intensity.
Michael Greenhalgh
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