I, your faithful reviewer, promising to be sound in 
                  mind and body, reasonably sober etc etc blah blah, do hereby 
                  declare that man this is good! The booklet notes 
                  for this release conclude “No, we are never finished with 
                  Beethoven!”, and this recording proves the point in many 
                  ways. 
                    
                  Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 is both enigmatic and 
                  transparent. We’re always told it is a flawed masterpiece, 
                  but perhaps never really stopped to wonder how or why. In any 
                  case, we love it despite, perhaps even because of its hairy 
                  warts. Love or hate Jan Willem de Vriend’s performance, 
                  one of the things he is not afraid of doing is revealing every 
                  moment of this piece with sharp and spot-lit scrutiny. This 
                  is a long way from the opulent and shimmering aura created around 
                  the work by conductors like Herbert von Karajan. It is by no 
                  means a ‘chamber’ reading, but De Vriend handles 
                  The Netherlands Symphony Orchestra like a string quartet, and 
                  the resulting power is up close and personal: he holds up each 
                  moment like the yet beating heart of an Aztec sacrificial victim, 
                  and the result is that we can gain even more new insights into 
                  this remarkable creation. 
                    
                  It has no doubt been pointed out before, but this performance 
                  lays it out more barely than most, that Beethoven’s Symphony 
                  No. 9 is an alchemic artistic wonder, somehow created from 
                  a long string of musical banalities. This is part of the way 
                  Beethoven works in most of his symphonies of course, developing 
                  themes made up from minimal resources, and then building them 
                  into collectively monumental shapes which follow pretty much 
                  all of Henry Moore’s early rules for sculpture: truth 
                  to your materials, avoidance of slavish reproduction or search 
                  for the merely beautiful, achievement of powerful expression 
                  through the contrasts of surging tension, texture, rhythm and 
                  spatial sense: all of that stuff from which we can learn to 
                  apply in every form of art. 
                    
                  The booklet notes include the results of discussions with Jan 
                  Willem de Vriend, in which we are reminded that a Welsh steam 
                  engine came to use in Vienna at the same time as the first sketches 
                  for the ninth were being made. You can certainly hear the motoric 
                  energy and sense of precipitate speed in the second movement’s 
                  Molto vivace, though I first heard it as more of a kind 
                  of operatic scene out of which it was as likely for a vocal 
                  soloist to emerge as in the finale, this time with myriad members 
                  of the choir milling around behind with purposeful intent. By 
                  no means inflexibly machine-like, this Beethoven certainly does 
                  have the surging drive of never-before seen objects of infernal 
                  modern design and untold effects on the human soul. Compared 
                  with John Eliot Gardiner’s recording with the Orchestre 
                  Revolutionnaire et Romantique on the Archiv label, De Vriend 
                  is less keen on allowing the music its moments to breath, favouring 
                  unstoppable onward impetus and maintaining a tensile line of 
                  force even where the dynamic falls and holes appear in the music 
                  like an Emmentaler cheese. I prefer the Dutch drums as well, 
                  which have a more usefully dark and less upper-harmonic rich 
                  tone to Gardiner’s French revolutionary. Excellent though 
                  this pungent period-instrument performance is I think this NSO 
                  version is even more inspiring. 
                    
                  When was the last time you saw a classical music release advertised 
                  on the side of a bus? I enjoyed the 7th and 8th 
                  symphonies in this complete cycle (see review), 
                  and this fifth volume is a fitting crown to a remarkable cycle, 
                  now available as an attractive box set which I’ve seen 
                  more than once promoted on the side of Dutch trams. Boisterous 
                  and energetic it may be, with more rhythmic punch than a Power 
                  Ranger, but the most tender moments are truly gorgeous, with 
                  the poetry of the Adagio molto e cantabile expressed 
                  unsentimentally but with a proportionate relationship to the 
                  whole - a subsumed sense of eruption rather than of flaccid 
                  repose, but performed with grace and lyrical sensitivity. There 
                  is that question of vibrato in the strings, and if you are looking 
                  for Berlin Philharmonic warmth then this is one place you won’t 
                  find it. I don’t find this in the least disturbing, but 
                  tastes differ. 
                    
                  So, we’re back to going along at fever pitch in the Finale 
                  and it’s wow wow whoop all the way. The only hurdle 
                  to be crossed is where the singing starts, and here is the only 
                  point at which I have to start throwing mild critical barbs. 
                  Baritone Geert Smits, instead of entering into the swift and 
                  high-octane spirit of the whole thing, takes the opening ‘O 
                  Freunde…’ as a Big Solo, ascending a throne as a 
                  veritable king, rather than rising from amongst the orchestral 
                  colleagues as one of the ‘Freunde’. This rather 
                  over-fed recitative continues to sap the energy and drag in 
                  tempo as the Allegro assai takes flight, and one has 
                  the feeling that the onward momentum suffers throughout this 
                  whole section. The parps of the contrabassoon are superb in 
                  the Alla Marcia though, and tenor Marcel Reijans restores 
                  a feeling of collective heroism in the “Froh, froh...” 
                  solo, ably supported by the men of the chorus. 12:35 in and 
                  that famous full choral tune enters with superb drive and energy, 
                  cruising triumphantly over the deliberately sought out syncopations 
                  in the drum. Listen too for the way De Vriend brings out the 
                  orchestra in the gaps between the singing - just one of numerous 
                  little tricks which keep everything dynamic and deliciously 
                  direct and down to earth. The choir is perhaps not quite as 
                  strong as the orchestra it has to be said, with one or two ‘flat’ 
                  moments such as the Andante maestoso at 13:25, where 
                  the unison men could have sounded a bit more involved. They 
                  are also less at home in the highest notes, but this is pretty 
                  extreme choral writing after all. On the whole things are very 
                  good however, and there are no real ‘if only’ places 
                  which will return to haunt you on repeated listening. I’ve 
                  deliberately avoided going through the whole thing with the 
                  score and a fine toothcomb - we’d be here all week: the 
                  overall effect is the most important thing, not pointing out 
                  little details which you probably wouldn’t notice if they 
                  weren’t picked out and shoved under your nose. 
                    
                  This is a tremendous and remarkably revealing performance of 
                  Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9, and with the added 
                  bonus of SACD surround sound it is also a genuinely spectacular 
                  sonic experience. With all the benefits and strengths of modern 
                  instrument sonority allied with period brass and historical 
                  interpretative learning this is pretty much the state of the 
                  art when it comes to this work, and if you thought you knew 
                  it well through the sheen of your 1970s and 1980s favourites 
                  then this is a very good place to allow yourself to be given 
                  a healthy kick into some new thinking. 
                    
                  Dominy Clements 
                    
                  Masterwork Index: Beethoven 
                  9