> SIBELIUS Symphonies 1,5 Davis 74321680172 [CH]: Classical Reviews- January 2002 MusicWeb(UK)






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Jean SIBELIUS (1865-1957)
Symphony no. 1 in E minor, op. 39 (1899)
Symphony no. 5 in E flat, op. 82 (1917)
London Symphony Orchestra/Sir Colin Davis
BMG RCA RED SEAL 7432168017 2 [70.34]

 


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An all-too frequent, but not less dispiriting, experience in the modern world is that of turning up to rehearse something and finding you are expected to use an "electronic keyboard". Fiddling around in the hope of discovering a sound slightly less repulsive than the rest, sooner or later you bump across something laughably called "strings". The enervating feature of these "strings" is that they donít give you a healthy attack when you put the keys down but swell out gradually, reaching maximum volume after about three seconds. The producers of these things call this a "string cushion" and if you mix it in with "piano" or "harpsichord" and improvise sub-Rachmaninov you can indeed accompany yourself with your very own mushy strings half a beat behind, as some conductors are wont to. And, just as some people apparently like mushy peas, so there must be people who like mushy strings and this is a democratic society, for heavenís sake, I wouldnít dream of depriving anybody of something that makes him or her happy. Especially since these people would seem to include, at least in Sibelius, Sir Colin Davis. His strings sink in, swell out, ooze in, according to the dynamic level required, but a straight attack is not on the menu. Similarly, brass chords are allowed time to "speak", which they do comfortably about a second into the chord, timpani rolls start imperceptibly and then swell to a maximum. The excellent recording of the timpani reveals that the player is fractionally behind the beat right through both works. Woodwind, down-to-earth things that they are, tend to start their notes with a "cluck", but at least they manage to "cluck" behind the beat fairly often.

Now I donít doubt that Sir Colin intends all this, as part of a vision of Sibelius in which the music somehow wells out of the orchestra, like something growing of its own accord. Nor do I doubt that many people relate to this, for did not a distinguished critic liken his South Bank Sibelius cycle to the natural authority of Furtwänglerís Beethoven? It has been a long haul from the fiery days of Sir Colinís youth to the majestic non-intervention of this Sibelius and, yes, it is as grand and as authoritative as everybody says it is (the "swan" theme in the finale of no. 5 is a little brisk and at the very end of that work the melodic lines on the brass are lost in a welter of generalised noise, but otherwise itís great stuff). But as I reached the half-way mark and began to cast around for reasons why I wasnít enjoying it as much as I ought to have been, I concluded that it was this mushy attack that was getting me down, a sign somehow of a lack of firm interpretative grip.

I learnt my Sibelius in another way, during my years in Edinburgh at the time of Sir Alexander Gibsonís long reign with the SNO, and as I turned to their CFP recording of no. 5 I realised, in spite of some rough sounds from the orchestra, that my spiritual home is still here. It all unfolds as naturally as with Davis yet with a strong current behind it, events happen when they happen not a split second afterwards, my ear feels guided onwards from point to point. Maybe in the intervening years the greenhouse effect has got at the sharp, frozen landscapes Gibson knew, making them a little soggy underfoot.

But still, donít mind me, Iím the one thatís out of step, remember that a renowned expert in Scandinavian music thundered for twenty years in a leading journal that Gibsonís Sibelius Fives (all three of them!) lacked the last ounce of poetry, though he never said where and I am too much of an ignoramus to work it out for myself (but I do know that in the "swan" theme it is Gibson who, by just slightly broadening out, seems lost in wonder as the great birds wheel above him).

But as I say, donít mind me, itís all very fine really. In England today, as it fights its valiant battle against globalisation and the Euro, much has changed; you can munch peanuts through the Queenís Christmas message, you can remain seated while they play the National Anthem, you might even get away with taking your hat off at Ascot, but you donít criticise Sir Colin in Sibelius. You just donít. So Iíll end by quoting a few lines of Shirley Brooksís critique of the equally untouchable (in its day) Longfellowís "Hiawatha". Ably couched in the same metre as the butt of its caustic humour, it appeared in "Punch" in 1856 and pretty well sums up my feelings here:


Should you ask me, Is it worthless,
Is it bosh, and is it bunkum;
Merely facile, flowing nonsense,
Easy to a practised rhythmist,
Fit to charm a private circle,
But not worth the print and paper
David Brogue hath here expended?
I should answer, I should tell you
Youíre a fool and most presumptuous;
Hath not Henry Wadsworth writ it,
Hath not Punch commanded "buy it?"

Christopher Howell


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