From her earliest RCA
discs with the Colorado Symphony to
her more recent work for Naxos with
the Bournemouth Symphony, Marin Alsop
has - rightly or wrongly - become particularly
identified with 20th Century American
music. The outstanding Barber series
recently completed with the Royal Scottish
National exemplifies this. But in fact,
fine all-round musician in the Bernstein
tradition that she is, her concert programmes
reveal a much wider variety of programming.
With her Naxos CDs selling well, and
her name by now familiar in every musical
household, it was only a matter of time
before CD collectors would be allowed
to hear her in ‘mainstream’ repertoire.
So this issue - the first in a major
Brahms cycle - has been eagerly awaited.
Few will be disappointed.
As a visit to her website
(www.marinalsop.com)
will confirm, Brahms is a composer with
whom she feels a special affinity. He’s
"a composer very close to my heart.
I remember hearing a recording of the
Brahms B flat string sextet when I was
12 years old and becoming absolutely
transfixed by the experience. For the
first time in my life I felt deeply
moved by music and I understood the
extreme emotional impact that music
could have on us. As I immersed myself
in his compositions, I could relate
to and appreciate his struggles and
life conflicts. To hear his majestic
First Symphony, which he laboured over
for decades, is to be changed! Recording
his music and sharing performances and
ideas about him and his music with audiences
is a dream come true for me."
If you’re interested
in reading more about Alsop’s approach
to this project, I suggest you click
on www.naxos.com/marin/brahms-symphonies:
it’ll whet your appetite!
This First Symphony
is an impressive achievement. It’s superbly
recorded in the Watford Colosseum; it’s
lovingly shaped by Alsop; it’s played
with tremendous conviction by the LPO;
and it costs £5. Go buy it now, or read
on!
Although it might be
described as a ‘middle-of-the-road’
performance, there’s no trace of routine
or blandness. But, unique though it
may be, it does offer a mix of views
of a piece which has been recorded variously
by hundreds of orchestras and conductors
over the years. The transparency and
clarity of textures recalls the Mackerras
chamber orchestra version on Telarc;
whereas its weight and breadth (more
about this later) are more reminiscent
of the Germanic tradition represented
by Jochum - also with the LPO - or Abbado’s
Berlin set. (These would be my
benchmarks. Ask anyone else, and another
recording might be cited: after all,
the catalogue’s littered with top-notch
Brahms Symphony recordings!)
The character of the
sound is very appealing. Lots of detail
can be heard, including much that often
escapes our attention. This can be attributed
equally to the openness of the Naxos
recording, to Alsop’s meticulousness,
and to the polish and security which
distinguishes the playing of the London
musicians. Orchestral sonorities, whether
soli or tutti, are notably
refined. I noticed over and over again
the extremes of the pitch spectrum coming
through with impressive clarity. For
example, the first violins’ dotted rhythms
in the opening bars of the Tragic Overture,
rising to high A an octave and a bit
above the stave, are wonderfully clean
and firm. In fact the top end of the
orchestra invariably brightens even
the most solid of Brahmsian tuttis.
Similarly, at the bottom end, the weight
and presence of percussion (though they’re
not overly loud per se) at the
end of the Academic Festival Overture
is positively thrilling. The first statement
of the finale’s chorale is distinguished
by beautiful trombones, with the gorgeous
16ft voice of the contrabassoon uncommonly
prominent. And expressive dialogue involving
cellos and basses - and there’s lots
of it! - is difficult to ignore, even
when overladen with heavy instrumentation.
Ms Alsop has her orchestra ‘speak’
to us.
On top of all this,
there are some lovely solos. Examples
abound, so much so that it’s almost
pointless singling one out. But I must
mention the flute in the introduction
to the Symphony’s fourth movement, soon
after the Beethovenian struggle towards
C major finally resolves itself - at
Bar 38, precisely three minutes in.
It’s forte, as marked, not fortissimo,
but it carries its song like a bird
in flight, and sounds gloriously affirmative.
We’ve the London Philharmonic
to thank for all this. But Alsop makes
her mark by balancing orchestral textures
and voicing the harmony to ensure that
we hear precisely what Brahms wanted
us to hear. We can’t take this for granted,
given Brahms’s tendency to dense colourings
(in the First Symphony especially) and
his eccentric loyalty to non-chromatic
hand horns without valves. One notorious
instance of Brahms’s inconsistency in
this respect - the finale of the Symphony
at Bar 267 [11:33] - is very nicely
judged by Alsop. Horns are marked fortissimo,
and frequently blare out as marked,
but not here! This is a sensible move,
and illustrative of Alsop’s artistic
maturity. One of the replying phrases
(the third, in Bar 269) features
wind only, with (annoyingly…) the horns
less prominent. So conductors have a
choice here - of underplaying the first
and second phrase (so the third does
not disappoint); of dramatically attacking
the first and second, as written (but
risking disappointment at the third);
or naughtily rewriting the horn parts
at Bar 269 (the third phrase) to make
the moment ‘work’ for anyone without
a score! Alsop - brilliantly, but uncontroversially!
- steers a midway course.
Only once did I find
busy string patterns (in the third movement
- Bar 57 [1:17]) being allowed to mask
what should be prominent solo
wind lines: I can’t be sure whether
this is a miscalculation, an engineer’s
problem, a purely personal preference
of mine, or a case of insufficient time
for retakes?
Tempi fluctuate in
the Furtwängler tradition. Many
instances of this are expressively defensible,
but I would argue that some of it is
intrusive. When, at the height of the
first movement’s development section,
Brahms steers the music on to a dominant
pedal in readiness for the recapitulation
- with a tremendous sense of arrival,
at Bar 321 [11:33] - Alsop suddenly
holds back. I find this mannered, but
the ‘signposting’ effect is undeniable,
and the rushing semiquavers which propel
the music forward thereafter are unquestionably
exciting. Again, the expressive string
build up (or rather ‘wind down’) to
the oboe’s second theme (Bars 127 [4:28]
and 400 [13:12]) is rather laboured,
but it does (I have to admit) impart
a strong sense of moment.
The slow movement works
best with this approach. It is most
affectionately moulded, with a wide
ranging dynamic and some very responsive
playing. With plenty of room for phrases
to speak, the instrumental dialogue
can be well and truly savoured: and
the result is heart-warming. I especially
like the way (twice, in the second half
of Bars 10 [0:44] and 77 [5:30]) Alsop
makes the phrase which Brahms merely
marks diminuendo into a delicate
echo of the previous bar - with most
touching effect.
Not surprisingly, the
rubato and stringendi
which Brahms actually prescribes in
the finale’s slow introduction are very
well controlled, with a strong sense
of emerging drama. When the allegro
finally materialises (with the celebrated
Ninth Symphony ‘sound-alike’ theme)
Alsop’s almost lethargic tempo is most
certainly non troppo, and definitely
not con brio - at least not until
it suddenly quickens! Surely the animato
here (Bar 94 [5:56]) is applied to 1st
violins only, implying a style of attack
rather than a tempo change? Inevitably,
the brakes are applied suddenly at the
‘double-bar’ (of course there is no
double-bar, but this - Bar 185 [8:46]
- is where it could/would have been),
which Brahms marks largamente
in violins and flutes only. Finally,
but typically, the closing statement
of the chorale (Bar 407 [16:09])
is declaimed at a markedly steady pace
- an old-time habit I thought we’d said
goodbye to! These fluctuations can all
be justified, in that there is musical
evidence for them all, but I do find
Alsop’s approach a shade too imposed.
There are a few instances
of tempi quickening or slowing for less
obvious reasons, and I do wonder whether
this results from the editing together
of different takes. In the ‘first time’
bars at the tail end of the first movement’s
exposition, horns and winds hurry away
into the exposition repeat. I may be
wrong, but this sounds more inadvertent
than strategic! (Forgive the double
negative, but I confess that - if it
is intentional - it isn’t unexciting!)
As a general rule -
though it’s not easy to generalise on
such things - tempi are fractionally
on the slow side of average. However,
the wonderful (but I always think flawed)
Tragic Overture is dangerously steady
here, most noticeably where Brahms allows
the temperature of the argument to fall
dangerously low - at the end of both
exposition and recapitulation, and (even
more noticeably) in the central molto
più moderato section.
There are places - for example,
the dry double counterpoint at Bar 230
[7:13] - where it makes best sense to
keep going, however beautifully your
orchestra can play for you!
I’ve questioned one
or two of Alsop’s interpretive decisions,
and you can judge for yourself the extent
to which (if at all) these ‘matter’.
There are a few other trifling disappointments
I’d like to note. Again, only you will
know whether these are likely to affect
your enjoyment.
The timpani quavers
are ever so loud in the opening bars.
I used to think this the way to do it
when I were a lad, but the drum beat
is - indisputably! - merely doubling
the double basses, who alone are marked
pesante. And when Brahms brings
back the same music in the dominant,
at Bar 25 [1:47], there’s only a trill
(not repeating notes) in the timpani.
Not half as exciting, you might argue,
but proof that it’s the basses (not
the timpani) that need to carry the
weight of the orchestra. Alternatively,
why not bring out the timpani at Bar
292 of the finale [12:37] where, with
almost identical scoring and dynamics
to the Symphony’s opening, it could
be argued that Brahms is doing some
long-distance recollecting or integrating
of ideas? But here, Alsop’s timpani
are difficult to hear at all!
The violas are rather
backwardly balanced between left-and-right
strings. I presume this to be a side
effect of using (for best ambient effect?)
as few microphones as possible. There
are one or two places where this requires
the listener to compensate. The recapitulated
sumptuous second subject melody in the
Tragic Overture at Bar 300 [10:11] is
no match for the massed violins’ quantity
of tone on the same idea in exposition,
however lovely the violas’ tone. And
those three dramatically pointed quavers
in the Symphony’s first movement - at
Bars 157 [5:12] and 430 [13:58], where
Brahms gets the dynamic ball rolling
once again - lack the necessary vocal
authority.
The violin solo in
the slow movement’s closing bars is
projected with an almost concerto-like
quantity of tone. And yet Brahms prescribes
no dynamic! Indefensibly, the rising
semiquavers and sextuplets which accompany
the solo horn almost drown the
horn: and, when the violin doubles the
solo clarinet in parallel octaves (Bar
109 [7:41]) the clarinet can barely
be heard!
Of course it takes
a lot of pennies to make a pound, and
a lot of trifling disappointments to
negate a strong recommendation. I’ve
detailed a few probable minus points,
but not nearly enough to prevent this
disc from receiving my heartiest endorsement!
There’s a rather nice
outer card cover (with a curiously over-lit
photograph of the conductor) to make
this Naxos stand out from the others
on your shelves. But inside, there’s
the usual bog-standard Naxos house style
with tedious coloured Times font and
down-market artwork. How long before
Naxos revamp their presentation to match
the calibre of some of the artists they’re
recording?
We look forward to
the next instalment of this most promising
cycle. Alsop has just finished recording
the Brahms choral works with Bournemouth
Symphony Orchestra and Chorus: also
(interestingly, but not strictly relevant
here!) a Miraculous Mandarin.
Since Christmas, concert-goers in Denver
will have seen her conduct all four
of the Brahms symphonies, and the overtures.
And The Hague, London, New York, Baltimore,
Dallas and Tokyo will all be witnessing
her Brahms performances in coming months.
Lucky them, I say!
Peter J Lawson
see reviews By
Patrick
Waller, Paul
Shoemaker, and Colin
Clarke
London Philharmonic Orchestra/Marin Alsop 
