I’ve reviewed
a companion Original Jacket collection in this series – the Horowitz
collection – and now Bernstein is accorded the same treatment.
At first sight the selection seems bewilderingly heterogeneous
- enough to defy rational criticism or analysis beyond the speculative.
And yet the defining quality is, I suppose, quality – that and
distinction in areas acknowledged to be Bernstein’s specialties.
The discs cover just over a decade’s worth of recording, from
1958-69. They reflect shards of Bernstein’s own greatness, as
virtuoso conductor, soloist and composer and give us two of his
elucidatory talks in which he illuminates aspects of the Eroica
and of Ives’ Second Symphony. Matters are of course complicated
by re-recordings, by re-evaluation in the light of the later Bernstein,
the canonical, spiritualised Bernstein and by setting these discs
in the greater flux of his own, later self. Better, I think, to
celebrate what we have here because this is a set aimed more at
the casual collector, not least at its bargain price, than at
the specialist who will still have many of these performances
on the LP shelves or in subsequent CD releases.
The Eroica receives a noble and strongly personalized
reading. The sense of tension in the opening movement is palpable;
maybe also too great a sense of rhythmic displacement as Bernstein
leans into the second subject. Still, whilst some may consider
it insufficiently cohesive, there can be few complaints concerning
the Funeral March in which the recording faithfully picks up his
pianissimi as well as his strongly delineated sense of strength.
The scherzo is notable for the trio being taken at pretty much
the same tempo and the finale generates, in Bernstein’s hands,
a genuinely seismic attack. Of the West Side Story symphonic dances
let’s just say this; the violin entries in the Prologue are razor
sharp and indeed the whole thing exudes a fusion of virtuosity
and lyricism hard to match, let alone surpass. The Symphonic Suite
from On the Waterfront – if only he’d written more film scores
– is rightly admired, not least in this performance. No time for
it here, however, but I played a Bernsteinian game listening to
it – he was notorious for running through other composers’ works
on the piano, usually with them present, and screeching out the
famous names they’d allegedly "borrowed" from. There
were a few names I could have screeched as well listening to On
the Waterfront.
But Bernstein cultivates the ringing declamation
and the chaste intensity of Copland’s Rodeo as few others ever
could; I’ve never heard the delicate chiaroscuro of the Corral
Nocturne more exquisitely played. The excellence of the Billy
the Kid performance is a testament to the NYPO’s collective virtuosity
and to the rhythmic impetus they generate – and the powerful fortissimi
as well, as in the gun battle scene. Do we really need to sing
the praises of the Gershwin disc? Incandescent, scintillating,
full of spontaneity and drive, full of animation and colour –
unselfconscious rightness from beginning to end and, unlike his
later recording, a perfect equipoise between the jazz vamp and
concert hall. How wonderfully Bernstein enters in Rhapsody in
Blue, uncertain, rather timid, with a sense of improvisatory freedom,
his piano cornucopic in its rhythmic flexibility. His cadenza
is stupendous, the glissandi provocatively sensational, the whole
performance an on-one’s-feet experience. Allied to which the sound
quality is superb, orchestral principals heard in all their stunning
glory. An American in Paris is equally memorable – panache, virtuosity,
ardent expression, idiomatic unfolding of melody, timing and phrasing
unimpeachable. The other American disc is devoted to Ives’ Second
Symphony and to the talk Bernstein gave on it. Whatever one’s
view of the work – I happen to find it cumulatively moving – there’s
no doubting Bernstein’s proselytizing energy on its behalf or
his control of broader and more intimate matters of structure
and thematic development. The many references to other composers’
works and indeed to hymns and slices of Americana have seldom
sounded so self-definingly eloquent as here.
The earliest works here are the two Haydn symphonies
– and Bernstein was a noted exponent of the repertoire. The Bear
- No. 82 - is restless and full of energy but lacks a little pliancy
in the first movement. I liked the rest much better; the Allegretto
is especially good and the minuet is Beechamesquely pomposo. The
Hen is altogether more consistently successful – and the high
point is an eloquent and expressive Andante. This was a slightly
problematic recording as far as sound quality goes with the strings
sometimes too swamped by the woodwind – things seem to have improved
slightly here but it’s certainly not a natural perspective. And
so to Stravinsky, Mahler, Sibelius and Shostakovich. The Rite
of Spring receives another memorable reading, famous for Stravinsky’s
own comment when he heard it – "wow" – about as eloquent
a critical comment as one could get, unless one reads post-modernistic
ambiguity into it. When Bernstein re-recorded it twenty-five years
later in Israel he had an unflattering acoustic and a rather less
athletic orchestra. In New York power and precision, expressive
phrasing and an unusual amount of rubato are the defining features.
Bernstein never utilizes the orchestra’s panache for crude superficiality
– in fact this is an alluringly sensitive and warm performance
for all its Stravinskian wow factor. And as well as these there
is clarity and rhythmic élan. There may be those who find
it just too yielding and emotive but it’s a memorable traversal
nonetheless. Shostakovich’s Fifth receives a powerful and extrovert
reading. His tempi are individual and his conception strongly
defined. Others certainly hold back in the finale – Bernstein
is triumphalist - and take the Scherzo with more sense of textual
ambiguity. Nevertheless he delves deep into the Largo, drawing
out the vein of lyrical melancholia at its heart. His conception
of the work changed very little over the years, indeed deepened
in its intensity. The NYPO Tokyo recording of 1979 takes this
conception one stage further, broadening and deepening the already
established parameters of his interpretation; essentially those
of a late Romantic symphony. His later performances were often
taped in concert; as with the later live Shostakovich, so with
the later Mahler 7. The later recording was even more red bloodedly
triumphant than this one though I sense a greater clarity and
control in this earlier performance. Either way Bernstein’s grip
on detail is extraordinary, his dynamics strong, the lyrical unfolding
measured with acumen. He makes the most of the consistently complex
tempo changes and his rallentandos, controversial but handled
excellently, are part of his powerfully imaginative solutions
to the complexities of structure (not least in the finale) in
the work. As with the Shostakovich, Sibelius’s Fifth Symphony
is strongly etched. I’m in two minds about it; the surging orchestral
power is notable, the affirmatory insistence frequently memorable
but sometimes, as with the Shostakovich, things can be somewhat
too literally external. I prefer his reading of Pohjola’s Daughter
that much more.
Ten CDs then, housed in replica LP covers, with
LP timings to match, which seem themselves to embody the journey
from radical chic to retro chic. Bernstein was a man for most,
if not necessarily all, seasons and this box gives us many imperishable
first thoughts in repertoire in much of which he was a towering
master. The booklet is comprehensive and reprints the LP sleeve
notes in English, French and German and has an introductory essay
by Sedgwick Clark. As Igor said - wow.
Jonathan Woolf
New York
Philharmonic Orchestra