These Schubert recordings were made during Herbert Blomstedt’s tenure
as chief conductor of the Staatskapelle Dresden, a post he held
from 1975 to 1985.
Schubert’s influence on Bruckner has been commented on
in relation to the Eighth. It’s illuminating observation,
and there are certainly many similarities, starting with the
hushed opening, subtly lit here and there by horn chords. This
recording has good bass extension, giving the pizzicato accompaniment
in cellos and basses some weight. The cellos are also in good
voice for the second subject. Dynamics are graduated over the
full range from pianissimo to fortissimo, and the long crescendos
are carefully built. The second movement could have been taken
a little more con moto. István Kertész’s
1963 recording with the Vienna Philharmonic, however, takes
almost a minute longer. Blomstedt in Dresden lovingly brings
out the inner parts and manages throughout to find a blend of
rich feeling which never becomes sentimental. I prefer this
performance to Kertész’s, which lacks subtlety
in the more vehement episodes.
The Great symphony is so called both on account of its
length, and to distinguish it from the Sixth symphony, also
in C major. It begins with what to me is the greatest horn-call
in symphonic literature; the spacious Andante introduction
growing from this leads into the main Allegro ma non troppo.
The horn-call is beautifully played, and seems to hang in the
resonant acoustic of the Lukaskirche. The transition to the
faster section is very well managed, as are all the transitions,
which are free of the ritardandi that can give Schubert
performances a sentimental air. The main theme in the Andante
con moto is reflective rather than jaunty. This helps to
contrast the innocence of the main theme with the anguished
episodes with which it alternates. The horn-call that succeeds
the big climax is wonderfully played, giving one of those moments
in which time seems to stand still. The intense emotional journey
in this movement is fully characterised, but always retains
a sense of dignity. The unison string phrase that opens the
Scherzo has a pleasant bass weight, and the tempo allows
the music to dance. There is a sense of nostalgia in the trio,
the transitions in and out of which are again smoothly managed.
The finale launches vigorously, but an unpleasant hardness has
somehow crept into the sound. I listened to the last two movements
again in case I had imagined this, but it was evident the second
time too. This movement must have been quite a bun-fight for
an orchestra of Schubert’s time, and still gives a modern
professional orchestra quite a workout; maybe everyone was feeling
a bit tense here. Things settle down after this, and the movement
proceeds in an athletic and well drilled fashion. Kertész
offers similarly well-pointed rhythms, but again he over-emphasises
the stormy episodes to the point where the orchestra produces
some rather ugly sound.
I really enjoyed Blomstedt’s Schubert. The tempi are well
chosen, and maintained with just the right degree of flexibility,
allowing the music to unfold without too much signposting. Apparently
the Staatskapelle Dresden was Wagner’s favourite orchestra,
and it acquits itself extremely well in this repertoire, with
particularly fine wind playing. It has an attractive ripeness,
particularly in the “wet” acoustic of the Lukaskirche,
and the analogue recording gives an extra bloom.
Guy Aron
Staatskapelle Dresden/Herbert Blomstedt 