Stanislaw Skrowaczewski
and the excellent Saarbrücken Radio
Orchestra deliver good performances
of the Bruckner symphonies throughout
this appealing series of performances,
recorded over a period of ten years.
They include not only the fine ‘Symphony
No. 0’ but also the early ‘Study Symphony’,
sometimes described as ‘No. 00’. Skrowaczewski
makes out a good case for it too, with
lean and athletic phasing and tempi
that draw drama from the score at every
opportunity. And this first disc in
the set also includes a welcome bonus
in the form of another early score,
the Overture in G minor.
The Symphony No. 0,
another piece published only after the
composer's death, is coupled with a
further makeweight item, this time the
Adagio from Bruckner’s String Quintet.
Since Bruckner always wrote so effectively
for strings this makes a most pleasing
additional item. The Saarbrucken Orchestra
may not have the advantage of having
a household name and a great tradition
of performing around the world’s famous
concert halls, but they are undoubtedly
a force to be reckoned with, aided as
they are by these rich-bodied Arte Nova
recordings.
'Die Nullte', as it
has become known, is an altogether more
mature and characteristic piece than
the 'Study Symphony', and as such is
fully deserving of a regular place in
the Bruckner canon. This is by no means
a mere curiosity, as the magnificent
sweep of the opening phase will prove
to any sensitive listener. As usual,
Skrowaczewski judges the tempo to perfection.
With most composers,
the title Symphony No. 1 will suggest
an early work. But ‘early’ is a little
too enthusiastic an adjective for this
piece, since the composer wrote it during
the middle years of the 1860s, when
he had already turned forty. Nor is
it really his First Symphony, since
he had already written the F minor ‘Study
Symphony’ a few years before, while
the symphony we now call ‘No. 0’ comes
chronologically in between the numbered
symphonies 1 and 2.
If all this seems indulgently
pedantic, it’s actually rather interesting,
since it tells us that Bruckner was
slow to emerge as a major symphonist.
Had he died at the same age (36) as
Mozart, for instance, we would never
have heard of him. The numbers ‘0’ and
‘00’ signify works which in the fullness
of time have become valued, even though
they were abandoned by the composer.
The Symphony No. 1
was composed when Bruckner was working
as organist of Linz Cathedral, a little
before he made the move to Vienna, where
he spent the major part of his remaining
thirty years. It was the Linz performance
of this work, directed by the composer
himself, that gave him a significant
reputation in that part of Austria,
and this success did much to encourage
his enduring commitment to the symphonic
cause. In his later years the crisis
of self doubt led him to revise the
Symphony No. 1, but the over-complicated
tendencies of the Vienna revision (1890)
make it less satisfactory than the original
version, which is what Skrowaczewski
records here.
Well might Bruckner
have been encouraged by what he achieved
in this symphony. The opening is immediately
impressive, though the recording is
rather less satisfactory than others
in this series. Here and in the eloquent
slow movement the dynamic range never
quite opens up, and we are denied the
full satisfaction of that glorious orchestral
sonority which is such a hallmark of
Bruckner’s greatness.
The Scherzo was surely
recorded on a different day. (The booklet
gives the period 13-18 June 1995 as
the dates.) For now the music opens
out with the utmost clarity and range,
and achieves what was denied in the
earlier movements. Indeed the driving
rhythms build to achieve a magnificently
exciting climax, making this one of
the most effective such movements the
composer ever created.
While the recording
of the finale is also pleasing, the
symphonic momentum does not have quite
the sweep Bruckner achieved in the first
movement. There are some splendid effects,
to be sure, including a dramatic drum-roll
which turns the agenda most dramatically
in the later stages, but the music does
not quite achieve the stirring peroration
for which it strives. Skrowaczewski
plays it for all it is worth, nor can
the commitment and skill of his orchestra
be doubted.
The Second Symphony
will probably never achieve the fame
and popularity (if that is an appropriate
word to use in relation to Bruckner)
of the later symphonies. However, it
is a substantial work of an hour’s duration,
and in this performance Skrowaczewski
achieves intensity as well as a truly
symphonic sweep of momentum. Yet the
music does not have the sheer epic scale
that Bruckner would create as he grew
older and more experienced. True, he
did return to the score and make revisions
– Skrowaczewski has opted for the 1877
version – but these did not alter the
symphony greatly.
The performance was
very successfully recorded and sounds
well. A feature of this work, in the
first movement especially, is the telling
use of pauses, out of which the music
resumes. Skrowaczewski paces and phrases
the music with exceptional sensitivity
to these factors, bringing out its individuality,
while the relatively resonant acoustic
is helpful too.
The choice of tempo
feels right once again in the first
movement, and there is some magnificent
playing from the orchestra, including
the cellos when they bring in their
gloriously lyrical principal theme.
This is a marvellous reconciliation
of poetry with activity. The slow movement
too has real eloquence, though the thematic
material is not as memorable as we encounter
from Symphony No. 3 onwards.
The scherzo brings
the most direct and powerfully rhythmic
music in the whole symphony. The virtuosity
of the orchestra is therefore put to
the top of the agenda, and they emerge
with flying colours, not least the trumpets
and timpani, who are all on excellent
form. On the other hand, the central
trio is a poetic idyll, where sensitivity
and subtlety are required.
The finale is more
diffuse, and at nearly twenty minutes
it matches the length of the first movement,
though not, I fear, its level of inspiration.
However, this is a fine symphony, and
during the final bars the sheer majesty
of the sound sweeps doubts aside.
In the Symphony No.
3 the first movement sets a rapid pace;
more rapid, perhaps, than Bruckner intended.
But Skrowaczewski makes a strong case
architecturally, and only occasionally
does the drive of the rhythmic momentum,
rather than its vitality, push proceedings
forward unnecessarily. For example,
the big climax at the end of the development
section can sound more exciting than
this, when the conductor allows the
rhythmic activity stemming out of the
basic pulse to challenge the sonority
of the chorale theme. However, this
performance does move the movement through
to a particularly powerful, emphatic
conclusion.
The slow movement is
most effective. The pulse places the
natural lyricism at the head of the
agenda, and the beautiful playing of
the Saarbrücken strings does justice
to Bruckner’s inspired vision. The noble
climax is at once structurally strong
and sonically satisfying.
This is a particularly
subtle scherzo, with complex rhythmic
interplays leading to imposing climaxes,
with the contrast of a lilting ländler
as trio. The choice of tempi and the
qualities of the playing serve the music
well.
The same might be said
of the finale, which starts with one
of Bruckner’s most distinctive examples
of the obsessive common-time rhythm
which was his trademark. The second
theme, is a remarkable fusion of polka
and chorale. Bruckner said: ‘In the
tavern there is music and dancing, while
next door the master lies in his coffin.’
This is perfectly done, the contributing
strands at once balanced and clear in
their articulation. It is not always
so. This finale is a problematic movement,
and Bruckner shortened it considerably
in the version of the score played here.
The music does not necessarily benefit,
and there are sometimes suggestions
that the symphonic logic has been undermined.
But the quality of the invention is
ample compensation, the more so when
the sound is good and the playing better
still. For the players of the Saarbrücken
Radio Symphony Orchestra rise heroically
to the challenge.
Skrowaczewski, like
many eminent Bruckner conductors before
him, chooses the third version of this
score, dating from 1889. In this symphony
the process of revision was in the main
a process of cutting, caused by the
tribulations of its performing history.
This is easy to prove by comparing some
timings: Skrowaczewski (1889 version)
takes 55 minutes, whereas Haitink (1877
version, Philips 422 411-2) takes 62
minutes. Longer still is Georg Tintner,
in the first version (1873 version,
Naxos 8.553454), which lasts a full
78 minutes. Originally Bruckner included
various Wagner quotations, for he dedicated
the music to that master, but in the
revision process these were excised.
Each of the three recordings listed
here will give pleasure, and Tintner
recorded a performance of the symphony
which makes a strong case for first
thoughts being judged as the best. But
in truth each version has something
to commend it, and at the bargain price
this performance is worth having even
if it becomes the second or a third
in a collection.
The spacious first
movement of the Symphony No. 4 opens
very atmospherically in this performance,
the tremolando of the strings barely
audible. The horn call of the movement's
principal theme is the crucial factor,
and is particularly well played. Out
of it the music builds towards a massive,
powerful tutti, before giving way to
dialogues between woodwinds and strings
and flowing lyrical music, the latter
known as the gesängperiod (song-period).
Skrowaczewski’s tempo feels slower than
some, but there is no doubting the massive
power he brings, while there are compensating
contrasts of more flowing lyrical music.
As the development ranges across these
contrasted imageries, and the coda builds
to majestic sonority, the thrilling
writing for the horns duly makes its
memorable impact.
The Andante
has an eloquent cello cantilena, and
the whispering violin postlude is the
perfect foil. This is a particularly
effective rendition of this movement,
with a restrained, meditative chorale
and a beautiful melody for the violas.
The climax is duly magnificent and epic.
While this does not achieve the searching
profundities of Bruckner's later Adagio
movements, it remains wonderfully satisfying.
The Symphony No. 4
was composed in 1874, but in 1878 and
1880 Bruckner revised it, replacing
the original scherzo and completely
reworking the finale. The work thus
created received a successful premiere
under Hans Richter in Vienna, on 20th
February 1881. The chief reason for
its initial success was the new scherzo
movement, one of the most directly appealing
examples of Bruckner's art. The atmospheric
orchestration and stirring horn fanfares,
with their hunting allusions, are balanced
by a lyrical trio possessed of a magical
calm. For this is a particularly impressive
display of sophisticated orchestral
sound in combination with instrumental
virtuosity.
The finale returns
the symphony to a questing, powerful
agenda. From the quiet opening a huge,
massive climax is generated, and again
there is lyrical music to provide the
balance of contrast. Skrowaczewski opts
for the Nowak edition and, like Herbert
von Karajan in his 1970s EMI recording,
adds a contentious cymbal clash at the
peak of the climax of the first group.
It is an effective enough gesture, but
whether it emanates from Bruckner or
from his disciple Franz Schalk is another
matter. This finale is ambitious and
full of searching music and powerfully
forged contrasts, so that when the ending
is made with the due return of the first
movement’s principal theme, the effect
is hugely impressive.
The performance of
the epic Fifth Symphony has a long-term
structural command, but there is abundant
textural detail along the way. In other
words, this is a performance to reckoned
with. It also does much credit to the
recording team that it sounds better
than ever in this reincarnation, and
at the price it represents a quite extraordinary
bargain, either as part of this set
or in its single disc format.
It is the two inner
movements that impress most in Skrowaczewski's
reading. As ever, he shows a keen appreciation
of dynamic shadings, and in this regard
as well as in the ambient sonorities,
the recording serves him well. The scherzo
is taken quickly, which is valid enough,
but this does result in a few details
of counterpoint being glossed over.
For this is Bruckner's most overtly
contrapuntal work, glorifying in the
results his studies with his teacher
Simon Sechter.
The slow movement is
as eloquent as one could wish for, with
a flowing pulse but equally a real sense
of gravitas as the climaxes build. The
outer movements too impress in their
pacing, with the strongly characterised
themes returning to make an impact at
once expressive and structural. The
Saarbrücken Orchestra may not have
the pedigree of the Berlin Philharmonic
(whose recording with Karajan on DG
remains a benchmark), but play the two
'side by side' and you will be hard
put to tell the ensembles apart.
The culminating passages
of the symphony are hugely impressive,
as a true peroration and summation.
The results have much to commend them,
though on the debit side the tension
is perhaps allowed to sag just a little
too much in the passage before the emphatic
final bars. On the other hand, rarely
has the balance between the brass instruments
been so impressively communicated. There
is no question that this is a noble
and hugely rewarding performance of
one of the greatest of all symphonies.
The first complete
performance of the Symphony No. 6 took
place three years after the composer's
death, when Gustav Mahler conducted
a heavily cut version in Vienna. The
music made little headway in its early
years, with the result that it does
not suffer from the complications of
different performing editions which
dog so many of Bruckner's works.
The recorded music
catalogue boasts more good performances
of the Symphony now than used to be
the case a few years ago, and the arrival
of this excellent performance under
Skrowaczewski strengthens the position
still further. Indeed, anyone looking
to add the work to their collection
could really do no better than to invest
in this budget price version in its
single issue or as part of this set.
The recording was originally
made for Saarbrücken Radio in 1997,
and it sounds splendid, with fully sonorous
climaxes and great clarity and depth
too. These things are particularly important
in this piece, since Bruckner shows
so many deft orchestral touches, not
least in the nocturnal scherzo, which
is full of subtleties of rhythm and
texture. Skrowaczewski paces this music
to perfection.
The basic rhythm of
the opening movement is notoriously
difficult to articulate, but here it
is clear in outline and beautifully
judged in terms of pace. The description
in the score is Majestoso, and Skrowaczewski
certainly achieves a notable sense of
majesty as the first subject unfolds
from fragments to the first full climax.
The flowing gesängperiod moves
naturally and fluently out of this.
The closing phase is expertly delivered
too, the dynamics carefully observed
in order to make maximum effect.
This symphony has one
of the great slow movements. The excellent
string playing is captured with abundant
richness of tone by the recording engineers,
and again the dynamic shadings play
a full part. For example, the third
theme, a hushed funeral march, makes
a particularly telling impression.
With its various changes
of gear, the finale is not without its
problems for interpreters; but Skrowaczewski
shapes it admirably. When the main theme
of the work returns as if to close the
book on the whole conception, the effect
is compelling, as sonic satisfaction
is combined with the deep inner logic
of large-scale symphonic argument.
There are few criticisms
that can be levelled at this performance.
Perhaps the rhythmic outlines might
be more strongly drawn in the first
movement, perhaps the playing might
show more personality when solo lines
emerge from the ensemble. But in truth
such things hardly matter, since the
effect of the whole is so satisfying.
For this performance offers the listener
a wonderful experience, and at bargain
price too. It is a real highlight of
this impressive collection.
The recording of the
Seventh Symphony is more than ten years
old, dating from September 1991 and
first released several years ago. It
assumes a worthy position in the canon
of these performances. For once again
Skrowaczewski confirms his calibre as
a Bruckner conductor, and once again
the members of the Saarbrücken
orchestra match his demands with first
class playing.
There is only one issue
concerning the editions with this piece,
of course. That is the question of whether
or not there should be a cymbal clash
at the peak of the climax in the great
slow movement. This performance opts
for the Nowak edition, which means the
cymbal clash is included (in the Haas
edition it is not). In fact it turns
out that it makes little impact, both
musically and sonically, and in that
sense it is the most disappointing aspect
of the performance. Now it may seem
strange to write of a single cymbal
clash being so important, since in many
works - Tchaikovsky's Fourth Symphony,
for example - such things are 'two a
penny’. But in Bruckner the serious
tone of the musical journey is such
that a single moment of arrival means
everything. Here that moment doesn't
really come off, though thankfully there
are other strengths in abundance, most
notably the magnificent sonority of
the orchestral playing in the fully
scored passages.
The tempi have that
subtlety of tension and relaxation with
marks out all the best Bruckner interpretations.
For example, the first movement opens
gloriously, with one of the composer's
most inspired themes played with wonderful
sonority, and with phrasing that allows
the music to breath and grow. Then the
more rhythmic contours of the secondary
material make for an ideal balance as
the large structure evolves across its
twenty-minute span.
The slow movement is
deeply serious, at once majestic and
noble. Skrowaczewski boldly plays it
as a genuine Adagio, releasing the inspired
themes stage by stage and with a long-term
vision. The results are compelling,
which is why the relative under-achievement
(sonically speaking) of the biggest
climax of all, replete with the dubious
cymbal-clash, remains but a minor problem.
At the end of the movement, the 'funeral
music for the master', as Bruckner called
his tribute to Wagner, is glowing and
deeply felt.
The Scherzo has abundant
energy, and the principal trumpet plays
at the top of his form in leading the
way. The finale links back to the first
movement material, the faster pulse
broadening at the close with the return
of the principal theme. For this is
a glowing, beautifully judged performance.
If the recorded sound is not quite as
good as Arte Nova provide in other performances
in the series, it is still perfectly
acceptable.
There are grounds for
considering either the Eighth or the
Ninth Symphony to be Bruckner’s masterpiece.
The point is well worth considering,
but surely the best definition in such
matters is Hans Keller’s: that whenever
we encounter great music it must necessarily
sound as if it is ‘the greatest’. Skrowaczewski,
quite rightly, plays the revised 1890
version of the Eighth, in which the
first movement gains from that extraordinary
hushed coda that Bruckner described
as a ‘totenuhr’ (death-watch). One of
the tragedies of the recent history
of Bruckner recordings was that Georg
Tintner died before he was able to add
the revised version of the Eighth to
his otherwise complete collection on
Naxos.
The two versions of
the Eighth give the lie to the easy
generalisation that in Bruckner first
thoughts are necessarily the best. For
in this work there is no question that
the converse is the case, a point of
view that Skrowaczewski’s performance
does everything to support.
It is undoubtedly a
performance to be reckoned with. The
Saarbrücken Orchestra plays magnificently
once again, and the blending of horns
with Wagner tubas, a special feature
of the work, comes through particularly
well. Nowhere is this more important
than during the magnificent concluding
phase of the finale, when the recording
gives due prominence to the orchestral
sections contributing their crucial
aspects of the display of complex contrapuntal
mastery. The interpretation is compelling
and inexorably controlled.
Lest only the epic
qualities of this great symphony lay
claim upon our attention, let it also
be said that the work’s many subtleties
emerge naturally also. For example,
Bruckner's harps make a special contribution,
adding an extra dimension to the profound
music of the Adagio. As for the revised
coda of the first movement, the atmosphere
is suitably sombre and deeply felt in
its concentration. For this is an interpretation
of the Eighth Symphony that is worthy
of comparison with the famous recordings
by its many devoted performers, such
as Karajan, Horenstein, Haitink, Wand,
Szell, Dohnanyi and Jochum.
This interpretation
of the Ninth Symphony is admirably paced,
unfolding its splendours and its dark
intensity at an inexorably correct pulse,
although the element of mystery is somewhat
downplayed (it is present in Bruckner’s
title for the first movement: ‘solemn
and mysterious’). That apart, symphonically
speaking everything feels entirely natural.
This sense of inexorable growth is really
important in Bruckner, of course, since
his style is expository rather than
dynamic (uniquely among 19th century
composers?). In the first movement the
opening phase, so clearly modelled on
Beethoven's Ninth in its sense of growth,
builds to a massive climax, before the
contrast of the more noble music which
follows. Skrowaczewski’s phrasing of
this is less mobile than some other
interpreters, such as Günter Wand
and Georg Tintner, but at the height
of the development section, the moment
of greatest tension in the movement,
the effect is suitably imposing, while
the coda builds to a noble final statement.
The middle movement
scherzo is pounding and dark, the central
trio no less intense. In fact this performance
seems to grow in stature and intensity
as it proceeds. For the finale is broad
in pace, yet full of sharply defined
contrasts. There is an extraordinary
world of visionary intensity at work
here, and this makes the closing bars,
with their resolution amid a mood of
calm assurance and acceptance of fate,
the more moving. There may be a handful
of performances, including those of
Günter Wand (RCA) and Herbert von
Karajan (DG), which sound more subtle
and sophisticated, but Skrowaczewski’s
interpretation still makes a worthy
and wholly satisfying conclusion to
his richly rewarding cycle of the complete
Bruckner symphonies.
A particularly impressive
aspect of this set is the consistently
high standards of playing from the Saarbrücken
Radio Symphony Orchestra, and the high
quality of the recorded sound too. For
getting the right sound is crucial with
this composer, and this may actually
have been a significant factor behind
the difficulties that he experienced
with the early performances of his music.
These twelve CDs come
in a well produced and attractive hinged
box, and while the booklet notes by
Barbara Dobretsberger are relatively
brief they are full of interest. They
also contain much of the necessary information
about the editions Skrowaczewski has
chosen to perform. It is a pity that
this information was not displayed more
prominently in the context of a listing
of the symphonies, including all the
movement details. For the latter are
entirely missing from the booklet, and
this must surely have been an editorial
error rather than a deliberate decision.
However, it would be
wrong to view this as anything other
than a small frustration in the context
of giving a hearty recommendation to
this truly excellent collection of the
complete symphonic output of this wonderful
composer. Even the collector who already
possesses this repertoire in alternative
performances will find this set well
worth exploring.
Terry Barfoot
Saarbrücken Radio Symphony Orchestra/Stanislaw
Skrowaczewski 