Classical Music Reviews
Return to the Requiem Index
Articles from Sequence II:
MAHLER Kindertotenlieder
GÓRECKI Symphony of Sorrowful Songs
PENDERECKI A Polish Requiem. The Dream of Jacob
|
Marius Rintzler bass
DECCA 425 073-2
|
Bernard Haitink, between 1977 and 1984, actually completed a recording
of the complete Shostakovich symphonies for Decca (reissued as a
budget boxed set, Decca 444 430-2, with the two orchestral song-cycles
as fillers, 6 Poems of Marina Tsvataeva, op.143a and From
Jewish Folk Poetry, op.79). For this project he worked with two
orchestras, first with the London Philharmonic Orchestra (from 1977 -
1980), then the Orchestra of the Royal Concertgebouw (1981 - 1984).
Number 13 was the final symphony to be recorded in the cycle, and it
gains in insight from the experience of the performers having already
been exposed to the other symphonies. It is also worth recalling here
that Haitink had also, the decade before, already completed a Mahler
cycle with the Concertgebouw, and firmly established himself as a
premier symphonist of the late classical school.
That said, Haitink, unlike many of his peers such as Sinopoli or
Giulini, is not one to wear his heart on his sleeve in performance,
and as such, there has always been a danger of undercharacterization
in his works - the fourth and seventh symphonies of this very
Shostakovich cycle, for example, lack a certain je ne sais quo
and were not pulled off as effectively as one might have hoped.
Still, a degree of detachment is not necessarily a bad thing, and on
this recording, Haitink's disinterested approach is emotively matched
by his co-artists, bass Marius Rintzler and the gentlemen of the
Concertgebouw choir - it is also worth remembering that Shostakovich
had fully intended this work as a paean to both the past as well as
the ongoing suffering of his countrymen (in the mid-20th century).
The insistent, menacing pulse of basses which opens the symphony, if a
trifle underplayed, immediately draws you into the pathos of the
lamentation for the tragedy at Babi Yar. Such is the compulsion of
Haitink's reading that the full seventeen minutes of this movement is
over before one realizes it - he builds the tension up to an
appropriate conflict and resolution before gently letting it rest
in pacem. This is an intense soujourn into the dark heart of
Shostakovich's music for the hundred-something thousand dead at Babi Yar.
The opening chords of "Humour" after the heavy, overwhelming gloom of
"Babi Yar" is like a ray of sunshine through the clouds. One is almost
tempted to break into a smile. The orchestra (supported by choir)
banter in ritornello style with the soloist, the narrative line
punctuated with whirling, rising woodwind figures and racing strings -
almost Prokofievian. And yet, any drift from the underlying solemnity
of the text is firmly prevented by the low basso voices of the
choir providing an empathic anchor under all the lilting strings,
winds and stand-up soloist with his almost-heady brew of humour. One
might almost even miss the political subversiveness thrown at the
authorities.
However, he does build up impressively to the extended climax at the
lines "Ilk obschitivat postidno ! Ikh obveshivat greshno !" ("It is
shameful to short-change them ! It is sinful to short-weigh them
!"), free of bombast but overwhelming in its intensity. There are
also moments in this idiomatic folkish setting which brings to mind
Bydlo from "Pictures at an Exhibition". This is music, with
some introspection, to accompany a Tolstoy novel.
The mood is sustained into the next two movements, Haitink eliciting a
very intense - almost brutal, one is tempted to say - concentration of
ennui from his musicians. The bass pedals (comprising cellos,
doublebases, timpani and tuba sola) that segue into "Fears" is
played with deep stocism - it menaces the listener for the first 24
bars, before the chorus quietly enters for another 12 ("Umirayut v
Russiy strakhi...", "Fears are dying out in Russia..."),
setting the scene for the soloist's entry and taking over of the
musical liturgy from the choir.
Haitink here captures the deliberate effect of Shostakovich's
intentions very compellingly - the music swells as Rintzler expounds
on the irony of the transformation of the old fears (in the feudal
tyranny) into new ones (under the new totalitarian regime) - building
up to yet another an anguished fortissimo, but all the while
retaining the characteristic Haitink detachment. But this is not to
say that the music is emotionally restrained; far from it, his
deliberate understatement renders it a certain nobilmente, a
perfect balancing act between restraint and exuberance. It is
compulsive. The only snag is that there is a dryness in the sound
here, which slightly takes the edge off the music.
The tension from the preceeding movements here is considerably
slackened (as it should be), Rintzler bringing a modicum of warmth and
depth to the music with his dark, rotund voice and emotional mastery.
The mood lightens up somewhat and the unintensive character of
Rintzler's singing, very much in keeping with Haitink's unobtrusive
interpretation, is attractive and cannot be faulted for lack of craft
or ambition.
This is a reading which does not adhere to the school of monolithic
symphonic interpretation, a la Solti on Bruckner or Karajan on
Mahler. Eschewing the apocalyptic black-and-white approach which so
many of his peers adopt, Haitink delivers his - well, "idiosyncratic"
may not be the best word to use here, given its extrovert connotations
- reading in subtle shades of gray. There is a sense of opulence
without the rococo trappings, gravitas without the bulk,
a balance of head and heart without excessively "worrying" the music,
delivering it to the audience without overwhelming them, which in the
end, wins them over.
Below: Detail from "Bed Making" (1932) from the Sandham Memorial Chapel, Burghclere (1927-32), by Sir Stanley Spencer (1891-1959).
The change of mood between this movement and the next, "In the Store"
is sharply accentuated with the upbeat ending of the former and the
glowering basses (again) which opens the latter. This gloaming
continues for 18 bars before Rintzler's entry, almost sotto
voce in a plainsong melody, deeply stoic and meditative. There is
no attempt on Haitink's part to inject nobility in this portrayal of
the Russian (note Russian, not Soviet) women stoically queuing
up at the store, going about their daily chores as the unsung heroes
and binding agents which hold their families together.
In the last movement, "A career", Shostakovich returns to an
orthodox style characteristic of the Russian nationalistic school with
which listeners will be more familiar: dotted crochets in the choir
line, quirky figures in the strings (especially the low strings),
exotic percussion and constant changes of tempi and time signature.
Haitink and the Royal Concertgebouw, to be sure, do not indulge
excessively - that is left to Rintzler and the backing male chorus,
who deliver their lines with aplomb.
565: 30.8.1999 ©Benjamin Chee