At
first sight this might look like one of those dubious bargain
basement issues where standard repertoire is flung at the public
under a conductor with an obviously manufactured but very conductorly-sounding
name. Notes and information obviously kept to a minimum. But no,
there are notes on the music here stretching to over four pages
of fine print in three languages (though I’m not sure they actually
say very much) and a page dedicated to the conductor, so
here goes!
Romanian
born Edouard Lindenburg (1908-1973) studied conducting with Herman
Scherchen and Franz Schalk and became conductor of the Bucharest
Philharmonic till he left for Paris in 1947. He was the first
foreign conductor to perform Pelléas et Mélisande
at the Paris Opera House and later became a naturalised (or,
as the otherwise acceptably translated notes quaintly put it,
"nationalised") Frenchman. As well as conducting the
main French orchestras he conducted in Spain, Switzerland, Ireland,
Israel, Germany (with the Berlin Philharmonic, among others),
Czechoslovakia, Austria and Japan. He was also a teacher whose
pupils include Marius Constant, Sergiu Commisiona, Seiji Ozawa
and Jean-François Paillard, the author of several books
on musicology and twice winner of the Grand Prix du Disque. The
notes conclude that he left "a heritage of exceptional works
and recordings, all of which have been highly acclaimed by critics
and loved by audiences everywhere". It is not the first time
I find myself reading of an artist who has apparently set the
world on fire without the rest of the world, so to speak, even
noticing it. In this case Anglo-American provincialism may come
into play since two of the countries signally missing from the
above list are Great Britain and the United States, so perhaps
Edouard Lindenberg really is a name to conjure with in much of
Europe. In any case, I have never been a member of the "if-I’ve-never-heard-of-him-he-can’t-be
any-good" brigade, so what has he to offer in this much recorded
repertory?
Firstly,
I was struck by the very clear articulation of the strings and
a general avoidance of thick textures. Thus the first movement
of no. 5, while not all that much faster than Klemperer (in 1955)
or Keilberth (Lindenburg: 7:55, Klemperer: 8:05, Keilberth: 8:43)
is more bracing and forward moving, but without the driven quality
of Erich Kleiber’s famous reading (7:18). It has to be said that,
while the conductor has obviously worked thoroughly with the orchestra
over articulation and phrasing, the performances sound more "live"
than "studio" (far more live than the Harnoncourt performances
which really are live) with several slips left in, but
with a feeling of spontaneity and enjoyment.
The
Andante con moto is taken rather broadly (10:46 against
Klemperer’s 10:07 and Keilberth’s 10:12) but with some attractive
woodwind playing and again, no heaviness. Indeed, the fortissimo
outburst at b.185 is rather underwhelming – weight of string tone
does not seem to be this orchestra’s strongest point, but I have
the idea Lindenburg does not want to lay it on too thickly.
A little touch I liked was bar 45 where the conductor has noted
that the wind semi-quavers have suddenly stopped being marked
staccato and he has them played really legato. The
Scherzo is good with a trio which avoids elephantine attack from
the double basses and starts relatively lightly and crisply. Best
of all is the finale, rather broad (the half-bar is slower than
a bar of the Scherzo, as Beethoven requested) but lively and free
of pomp (9:30 compared with Keilberth’s 8:51; Klemperer’s timing
is meaningless as he gives the repeat which the other two don’t,
but he is slower than Keilberth in this movement). The spontaneous
nature of the performance perhaps gets out of hand in the coda
where the trumpet is allowed to blast out his theme in a way that
might be thought a little vulgar (and it doesn’t help that his
instrument has gone sharp).
I
liked the 7th better still. After a notably even-paced
introduction the first movement proper is pretty swift. In some
hands this can result in a fudging of the dotted rhythms but not
here. Lindenburg’s ability to produce spontaneous results in the
studio means that things get very upfront at times, the whole
orchestra collectively taking off. Things don’t get out of control
but they sound to be within a whisker of doing so.
The
second movement is grave rather than tense, and particularly attractive
in its more pastoral episodes, which are well related to the basic
tempo. The Scherzo is buoyant with a trio that does not drag.
After the ghastly hash Harnoncourt made of the finale’s main theme
(completely obscuring it with the wind and brass accents) it’s
nice to hear it ideally presented here and yes, the sforzatos
on the wind and brass are observed, it’s just that they
don’t dominate all else. This is also, incredibly, the only
performance I’ve heard where the tempo is not suddenly whipped
up at bar 20 and similar passages. So general is this habit that
I had begun to wonder if my rhythmic sense was not at fault
and I was imagining a speed change which had not taken place.
So be warned; if, after the swift opening, several passages sound
slower than usual, this is what Beethoven wrote.
In
one sense these are performances of their time; they are pretty
short on repeats (the only big repeat done is in the first movement
of no. 5) and accept the traditional changes to the instrumentation
(horns not bassoons heralding the recapitulation of the second
subject in this same movement). Perhaps I have been over-praising
them. They are not exactly Great with a Capital Letter, but I
think they’ll come off my shelf fairly often. The orchestra actually
seems to be enjoying itself, so when I want to enjoy Beethoven
rather than be brow-beaten by him I’ll listen to this. Why is
it that the sheer idea of "enjoyment" in the Great Classics
arouses a guilt-complex in us? Rather as if I were recommending
Beethoven performances for people who prefer reading Agatha Christie
to "War and Peace". Heaven help us! Get out your Klemperers,
folks, and take your medicine like strong men!
Christopher
Howell
Nordwestdeutsche Philharmonie/Edouard
Lindenberg