When I saw this ArkivCD reprint announced, I was convinced that
the well-meaning company had shot themselves in the foot somewhat
by issuing, at near to full price, recordings that have been in
the catalogue for years. I was rather surprised, therefore, that
these definitive concerto performances are indeed no longer in
EMI’s catalogue. Shame on them.
This was Bream’s
fourth recording of the Concierto de Aranjuez. I do sometimes
feel that artists sometimes re-record repertoire too frequently
without actually having much new to say. Karajan was somewhat
spoilt by the early 1980s appetite for perfect performances
in pristine digital sound, resulting in the wholesale re-recording
of virtually his entire repertoire; ditto Bernstein, although
with markedly superior results. Reading Gareth Walters’ excellent
notes to the present issue, I was somewhat intrigued to find
that Bream nominally performs this work once every few years;
that this performance was recorded a good thirty years after
his first only adds to the impression of a grand old master
returning one more time to a seminal work.
Bream’s tempos broadened
slightly over the years, but not greatly. The remarkable precision,
fluidity and sheer charm never deserted him and I am happy to
report that this late performance is spellbinding. If Bream
is a known quantity in this work, then it is Rattle and his
excellent CBSO that emerge as the real stars. Rarely have I
heard the orchestral accompaniment so lucid, atmospheric and
expressively played. These are, of course, traits that Rattle
has been wont to exaggerate in recent years. But, back in the
late-1980s-mid-1990s, Rattle and his team released an astonishing
series of recordings reflecting the diversity of their repertoire,
very much a product of the hugely exciting musical scene in
Birmingham at that time. The works on this disc represent the
partnership at its very peak. Special praise must go to Peter
Walden (cor anglais) for his solos in the second movement; truly
beautiful playing, improvisational in tone without ever sounding
arch. The whole performance is incredibly intimate, the dialogue
between orchestral soloists and concertante soloist remarkably
balanced, yet nothing sounds contrived or unspontaneous. The
famous second movement may well strike some as being a little
too refined but, my goodness, Bream and Rattle really
do make you listen. I found it to be the most magical performance
of that movement that I have heard.
Bream’s 1975 recording
of the Rodrigo (with John Eliot Gardiner) was coupled with Lennox
Berkeley’s Guitar Concerto. For his 1990s recording,
he chose to couple it with another British work, Malcolm Arnold’s
Guitar Concerto. Here the virtues of the Rodrigo performance
are intensified; this really is chamber music, scored for flute,
clarinet, horn and string quintet. Once more the effect is magical.
Those unfamiliar with Arnold’s concerto will no doubt be won
over by its beguiling charm; it is certainly a hard-hearted
man who cannot respond to the sublime second subject of the
opening ‘Allegro con spirito’. In these hands, the wealth of
subtle nuances tickle the ear and make one appreciate the sentimentality
of Arnold’s invention rather than disparage it. There is a vein
of modality running through this work that marks it as distinctly
English rather than influenced by the Iberian rhythms and harmonies
that are usually associated with guitar music. The second movement
is, if anything, even more seductive than that of the Rodrigo.
Quite why we do not hear more of this work in concert I do not
know, but then that pretty much applies to most of Arnold’s
compositions.
Sandwiched between
these two masterpieces of the genre is Toru Takemitsu’s To
the Edge of Dream. From time to time, Takemitsu seems to
be hovering on the fringe of being a mainstream contemporary
composer. For some reason, he has never quite gained the following
that he deserves. Rattle certainly believes in this music and
that belief certainly shows in this recording. At one time,
it was possible to describe repertoire such as this as being
quintessentially Rattle-ian. His extraordinary ear for texture,
sonority and balance and his undoubted intelligence serve music
such as this admirably. For the entirety of the 1990s this conductor
was responsible for perhaps the most exciting and ambitious
series of concerts the UK has seen for a long time, his CBSO
‘Towards the Millennium’ series. Each year of the 1990s featured
a programme of concerts of music composed in a certain decade
of the twentieth century. This, in my mind, marked the absolute
peak of Rattle’s tenure in Birmingham and makes one wish that
he would go back to doing what he does best - pretty much anything
post-Mahler - and stop giving us puzzling recordings of the
Central European classicists.
Even without the presence
of Bream, this would be a recording to rank with Rattle’s discs
of the Second Viennese School, Messiaen, Stravinsky and Ravel;
Bream’s input pushes it way over the boundary into the category
of ‘sublime’. One of Rattle’s best albums, undoubtedly, and Bream
certainly does not let himself down. EMI’s recording is all that
we have come to expect from a Symphony Hall recording; lucid,
warm and with every detail perfectly audible. Imagine my surprise,
then, when I found that the recordings were made at Abbey Road
and Butterworth Hall. Warwick University. And, so, a wonderful
example of conductor, soloist, orchestra, engineers and programme
coinciding to create a work of art that deserves to live on until
people (God-forbid) stop listening to great music. Probably the
finest disc that I encountered in 2007. 2008 marks the fifteenth
anniversary of its original release; EMI please take note.
Owen E Walton
Julian Bream (guitar) 
[58:16] 
