It is the duty of
every music scribe to contribute to the common good by writing
at least one review of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, lest we
reviewers should vanish as a breed. I imagine us crushed under
a creaking mountain of jewel cases to the sound of ‘that’ opening
theme from Spring mixed in with the manic laughter of
a million marketing departments.
Scenes from a potential
new screenplay by Terry Gilliam aside, there has to be a reason
there are so many recordings of these concerti on the market,
and the main explanation is that they’re so damn good.
Aside from their ease of categorisation and association, and
their neat completeness as a set, there are relatively few concerti
from this period which can boast quite the range of invention,
pioneering pictorial programme and instrumental synergy as these
works. Yes, of course there are plenty of individual concertos
and sonatas by a variety of composers which have these qualities,
but as a hot package, the Four Seasons is hard to beat.
I receive all of
my review discs at my work address at the Royal Conservatoire
in The Hague, and, attempting to give my colleagues in the office
a quick burst of Vivaldi over my computer’s rather nice active
speakers and a ‘guess the violinist’ game to start the day,
I was instead shown a pop-up window asking me if I wanted to
subscribe to the EMI/Virgin classics club. There’s a small ‘Opendisc’
logo on the back of this release which tells you about this,
and it turns out to be quite good fun, with easily accessed
samplers of recent releases, previews of new releases, photos
and the like. I found it interesting to be able to hear a few
tracks of EMI CDs I’ve read about on MusicWeb International
and elsewhere, and at least to be able to get some idea on what
all the fuss is about. This may not be much of a selling point,
but it’s worth a mention, especially since there are even ways
to ‘connect’ with favourite musicians through a sort of ‘ask
the artist’ option.
Out of the versions
of this piece which have succumbed to house moves, emergency
gift trawls and moments of weakness as a lender, I still have
the excellent solo of Michel Schwalbé with the now rather overblown
sounding Berlin Philharmonic and Herbert von Karajan from 1972
– probably now kept for nostalgia reasons than anything else.
There is the somewhat lacklustre Viktoria Mullova with the Chamber
Orchestra of Europe under Claudio Abbado on 1987 Philips. Then
there is the still remarkable Simon Standage and The English
Concert led by Trevor Pinnock on 1982 Archiv, at a total of
37:54 beating even Janine Jansen on Decca for high-priced brevity.
Perhaps a more useful comparison might be another version with
the famously conductor-less Orpheus Chamber Orchestra with Gil
Shaham on DG from 1994. This version sometimes uses organ as
continuo, which can have the effect of taming the jangle of
harpsichord against strings, but in the end as long as the balance
is correct this makes very little difference. Looking at the
line-up of players in the orchestra also shows very little common
ground, so I’m just as inclined to take Sarah Chang on her own
terms as subject her to A/B scrutiny.
Set in a pleasantly
resonant acoustic, the neither the orchestra or soloist are
too ‘in your face’ with this new recording, although Chang’s
violin does seem to get slightly different acoustic treatment
to the orchestra, giving the impression of the soloist standing
significantly in front of the orchestra, though without masking
it. The balance doesn’t seem at all ‘hyped’ in terms of extra
bass oomph or extravagantly wide stereo, but there is of course
a huge range in terms of dynamics.
The performances
are very nice – lively and rhythmic where the music demands,
atmospheric in those gorgeous central slow movements. The tendency
is towards well articulated legato rather than overly picky
phrasing, although there is plenty of space at moments such
as the introduction of ‘Spring’, and the end of that movement
is very impressive indeed. Chang’s playing is unmannered – possibly
even a tad unadventurous in some places where you might expect
more bravura, but she does however give some impassioned moments.
She doesn’t go in for experimental weirdness á là Nigel Kennedy,
but does pare down her vibrato almost to zero in the Adagio
e piano of ‘Spring’ – allowing some slight portamenti in
places as well. The final Presto of this concerto is
particularly dramatic, with hairpin dynamics which roll like
ocean waves.
The sonnets associated
with these concerti are printed in full in the booklet, in Italian,
English, French and German. Chang says “The sonnets are crucial
to the concertos – one can’t go without the other… These ideas
are integrated into the way I play The Four Seasons.” She certainly
goes a long way towards a kind of pictorial ideal, though I’m
always dubious of the power of suggestion when it comes to some
aspects of associating words with music. There are no great
secrets revealed here, but where special musical effects are
invited then they come across well in this version. The biting
chill of ‘Winter’ is the most successful for me in these terms,
with an edgy accompaniment and plenty of ‘brrr’ in the solo
part. The largo of this concerto has to have plenty of
swing to my mind, and it certainly moves nicely here, with some
gentle rubati making it less mechanical than some other
versions – even to the extent of making it seem a little slower
towards the end than at the beginning. Dramatic impact is once
again strong in the final Allegro – this combination
certainly leaves you wanting more!
There are no programme
notes providing further information on the Seasons or
the filler, but this is really a showcase for Sarah Chang –
pictorially presented through the booklet in a variety of dresses
and backgrounds representing each season: and no wonder ‘Winter’
sounds so chilly. The Concerto in G minor RV 317 is pleasant
enough, but if anything serves to show the Four Seasons up
as even stronger by comparison – I would have welcomed a little
more imagination with the time left on this disc.
As entertainment,
this Four Seasons is high grade indeed, and certainly overtakes
any of the other modern instrument versions I know – although
I will admit to knowing only a fraction of those available. The
Orpheus Chamber Orchestra seems to have matured after quite a
long gap away from the recording studio, seeming ready for a renaissance
and sounding more convincing now than some of those earlier DG
issues. I suspect that, once having taken the plunge, this is
a version of The Four Seasons which will grow on you with
further listening. It certainly lacks gimmicks, sentimental gush
or over indulgent artistic pretension, and as such can be warmly
welcomed.
Dominy Clements
Sarah Chang (violin)
