Clearly somebody in the A&R department of Deutsche Grammophon
sees Daniel Harding as ‘the next big thing’. If memory serves
this is his second ‘big’ disc for this label and he is the centre
of promotional attention. A rather moody Daniel Harding alone
graces the cover of the booklet; pensively a Daniel Harding
alone gazes from the rear cover of the booklet; an ecstatic
Daniel Harding – surrounded by rather glum members of the Bavarian
RSO – receives the applause on the back of the jewel-case. A
sombre Daniel Harding stares out from page 10 of the liner –
just in case we’d forgotten what he looked like somewhere between
the cover and that point. Add a sticker on the front and a review
quoted on the back – this is a live performance – stressing
the insights available within and no analysis of the work instead
a ‘conversation’ with – you guessed it – Daniel Harding and
I think you’ll take my point. All of which rather makes one
expect the extra-ordinary. I add the hyphen deliberately – such
hyping serves little purpose and helps no-one; least of all
the conductor who I would like to think is just a little uncomfortable
with this degree of hagiography - although there’s not a great
deal of Saintly behaviour to be had in Carmina Burana!
As to the performance of the work itself; well it’s perfectly
good, very good at points but actually rather anonymous as a
whole. The main plus points are the superb Bavarian Radio Symphony
Orchestra and well drilled chorus and a rich and detailed recording.
Much of the tintinnabulous percussion-writing in particular
is caught with thrilling clarity. The sticker on the cover tells
us: “Gerhaher masterly...”. He is very good – his voice has
a lighter lyrical lieder quality than many singers in this role.
To my ear this has advantages and disadvantages. In the lyrical
passages; Omnia Sol temperat [track 4] and the Cours
d’Amours sequence [track 18 etc] there is stunningly beautiful
singing. Conversely the earthier power required for Ecco
sum abbas [track 15] finds him under-voiced which might
explain why the DG website quotes critic Geoffrey Norris writing
in the Daily Telegraph as follows; “the tenor Hans-Werner Bunz
merrily bibulous in Ego sum abbas”[!?]. Light-voiced though
Gerhaher may be he’s no tenor! Referring back to the sticker
“Petitbon is wonderful…” Er, not to my ears she’s not. In fact
if there was a deal breaker for me with this disc it is the
unevenness of her singing. Some phrases are sung with light
and simple elegance. But then a sudden dynamic bulge or flare
of vibrato disrupts the line perversely. OK this is a live performance
and percentages have to be played but her attack on the famous
rapturous Dulcissime moment [track 25] is wrong musically
and downright ugly; each syllable is scooped back up to and
the final ascent to the high D is laboured. Rightly, it could
be argued that this is the single dramatic moment to which the
whole works points. What is Carmina Burana if not a celebration
of all things primal and the soprano’s D represents the gaining
of the ultimate bastion. Returning to the sticker for more helpful
guidance; “Harding discovers the medieval immutable quality
of Carmina Burana”. I have no idea what that means. Since
the work was written in 1937 how can it be unchanged from something
medieval since it did not exist then? Whilst I am in pedant
mode let me return to the liner’s “conversation” titled “Magisterially
Meretricious”. My dictionary defines ‘meretricious’ as either
‘having the nature of prostitution’ or ‘based on pretence, deception
or insincerity’. Apparently this phrase has been used by baritone
Christian Gerhaher to describe the work but Harding defends
it saying it is simply ‘undeniably manipulative’. Not descriptions
that fill one with confidence that this is these artists’ favourite
work. Elsewhere Harding states the music of the ‘dying swan’
“has something incredibly visual about it”. Not one of the most
profound or enlightening statements on Art of recent times but
it rather did conjure up images of Pavlova in her tutu at a
medieval banquet rather than the roasted swan of this
work. Am I alone in finding these kind of sweeping statements
allied to textual inaccuracy annoying?
Carmina Burana tends to be one of those works cursed
by its own popularity. Many classical music collectors will
dismiss it precisely because it is so popular. This is a mistake,
I am sure. Whatever one might think of Orff’s limitations musically
and expressively this is a work in a style he made uniquely
his own. Perhaps what is most curious is how fully formed at
the first attempt this style was. Orff wrote to his publisher
Schott after the first performances were so well received that;
"Everything I have written to date, and which you have,
unfortunately, printed, can be destroyed. With Carmina Burana,
my collected works begin." Central to the work’s success
is the bubbling vigour and lust for life it exhibits. I would
happily sacrifice great rafts of subtly shaded vocal colouration
for simple energy and attack. No-one doubts for a second Harding’s
skill as a conductor but all too often the chorus, for all the
beauty of their sound and precision, do not sing as though their
lives depended on it and the blame for that must lie with Harding.
Likewise the Tölzer Knabenchor are accurate and articulate not
the little devils the text would imply. Comparing timings and
performing style with other versions in my collection this would
not displace any of my preferred versions. Try Ormandy on Sony/CBS
with the choir of Rutgers University for a group of young people
palpably enjoying themselves. Or Barbara Hendricks on RCA with
Eduardo Mata and the LSO for an ecstatically virginal Dulcissime.
On the same recording the bass resonance of baritone Håken Hagegård
gives extra authority as the Abbot. I even have rather a soft
spot for the old Supraphon/Vaclav Smetácek which is available
as part of the complete Trionfi trilogy. The Czech Philharmonic
chorus is superb and the orchestra play with real character.
For sure the recording is not a patch on the current version
under consideration and soprano Milada Šubrtová verges on the
ugly at Dulcissime but at least she has a totally different
interestingly coquettish approach to this passage. But for a
complete thrill-seeking roller-coaster ride on the wheel of
fortune I still rate the EMI recording with Riccardo Muti and
the Philharmonia above all others. It is indicative of an earlier
happier time in the world of classical music recordings that
the 1980 EMI catalogue already boasted two other market-leaders
from Previn
and the LSO and Frühbeck de Burgos and The New Philharmonia.
The latter solved the ‘problem’ of the range of the baritone’s
music by using two. However, Muti unleashes the earthy primal
side of this work like no other. The Southend boys choir sings
with a disconcerting degree of lustiness as do the Philharmonia
choir. There is a brazen quality to the orchestral sound that
I adore. Then, add a brilliantly pained swan from Jonathan
Summers (Hans-Werner Bunz on this DG performance is unimpressive
and unsteady at best), authority in abundance from baritone
John van Kesteren and the ideal lyric soprano in Arleen Augér
and this new recording is revealed for what it is – adequate
and no more. Comparative timings show Muti two minutes or so
quicker overall rather undermining the “lean, modern” claims
of Harding’s version. There are a couple of movements that Harding
pushes on – one being the Song of the Roasted Swan but this
is not a matter of timings, rather the spirit and feel that
drive the tempi. I see that EMI re-mastered this version in
the late 1990s and I have read some reviews finding the dynamic
range unacceptably artificial. My CD is of the original full
price release on CDC7471002 and it sounds magnificent in all
its late analogue glory. It can be found online for little more
than £2.50 plus postage.
DG should focus their energies on promoting Harding in repertoire
in which he is more at home and has more to offer. I have written
elsewhere that the great is the enemy of the merely good. On
this showing this recording has many enemies.
Nick Barnard
Patricia Petibon (soprano); Hans-Werner Bunz (tenor); Christian
Gerhaher (baritone); Symphonieorchester und Chor des Bayerischen
Rundfunks/Daniel Harding 
