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Poor
Anton Bruckner. After finally getting his wish to meet Der Meister,
Richard Wagner, at Bayreuth in 1873, he received no end of grief
over his Third Symphony, dedicated to his hero and quoting from
his operas. The 1877 premiere of the work in Vienna under the composer's
direction was a disaster, and the subsequent critical mauling shattered
Bruckner's confidence.
Of
course, any work dedicated to Wagner and using his material as Bruckner
did was bound to send up a red flag. With the progressives under
Liszt and Wagner and the conservatives under Brahms continually
at one another's throats, such a composition would be attacked out
of general principles, regardless of merit. To be fair, Bruckner
never considered himself in either camp. He was too naïve to
realize what a firestorm he would bring down on himself, too gentle
to go on the attack, even in self-defense, and too childlike to
realize the politics and personal agendas of his detractors.
The
criticism Bruckner (right) received over the Third Symphony further
fueled his already rampant insecurities, which included a mania
to incessantly revise his works. Having already worked over the
Third three times before its premiere, the composer would personally
attend to or allow others to overhaul the score four more times
before his death. No less than nine versions of the symphony exist
today, complicating the situation of which version conductors today
should perform.
So
far, I have heard four versions of the Third Symphony - the 1873
original, two editions of the 1889 version, and this one - an 1877
version which interpolates an 1876 version of the Adagio,
both edited by Nowak. The 1873, though not as tightly organized
as revised versions, contains some beautiful passages, even more
Wagner quotations than in later versions and a first movement coda
so different as to be an entirely different concept. The 1877, tighter
than 1873, is still occasionally given to rambling, especially in
the first movement, but not annoyingly so. The 1889 is the most
cogent version, but sometimes makes its points a little too quickly
for the benefit of the music.
This
is Osmo Vänskä's first Bruckner recording, but he already
shows a mastery of this composer's music. He does not drive the
music too hard, allowing ample opportunity for it to breathe without
losing direction or letting the music go slack. Neither is this
a performance that lacks drama. From the mysterious opening measures,
the conductor very effectively points out the currents of tragedy
and malevolence pulling under the surface of the music. While also
demonstrating an excellent sense of Bruckerian ebb and flow, as
well as allowing the sunnier moments to shine like sunlight illuminating
an Alpine meadow in late Spring, Vänskä allows a gentle,
sometimes almost imperceptible tension to pull us along and keep
the music together.
The
Wagner quotations are highlighted without being pulled out of context
from the rest of the work, and add to the shadowy quality underlining
the movement. At times, such as the section beginning at 8:05 in
the first movement, they become both hauntingly reverent in tone
and extremely spooky in foreshadowing darker turns in the music.
When
the music does become bold, such as the restatement at 11:01 and
the dramatic outburst immediately following (a passage that always
reminds me of knights in armor charging forth on horseback to do
battle), Vänskä does not suddenly speed up to give those
passages a shot of adrenaline. Nor does he have to. Ever since the
quotation at 8:05, he has been slowly ratcheting up the tension
without our being fully conscious of it, and by not speeding up
the tempo, he gives the restatement tremendous weight and power.
Neither does the music lose tension after the passage ends, but
keeps building in cumulative power until the coda.
The
coda is my only complaint about the movement. Like George Szell
in his recording of the 1889 version (Sony 63519, with the Eighth
Symphony - two discs, budget-price), Vänskä speeds up
considerably here, and while this can be exciting, it actually dissipates
the tension that has been building throughout the movement. Kurt
Sanderling, in his recording of the 1889 version with the Leipzig
Gewandhaus Orchestra (Berlin Classics 2151 - mid-price), keeps a
steady pace, and while the passage is no less exciting, the resulting
massiveness and force is truly devastating.
The
Adagio is perhaps the high point of this performance. In
the notes for this recording, Stephen Johnson maintains that this
version of the Adagio is simpler and more gravely eloquent
at times than subsequent revisions of the movement, and more Brucknerian
in its expansiveness than the 1873 original. It is definitely less
perfunctory than the 1889 revision, with the extra time and notes
lending the music a timelessness and magic to which Vänskä
and the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra fully avail themselves.
In
the hands of these performers, this movement takes on near-human
characteristics. It not only sings, but sighs, hesitates, hopes
and remembers fond memories. This is the first of the "prayerful"
adagios for which Bruckner would become known, and a listener can
detect a sense of divine communication, with inner conflict and
soothing consolation alternating throughout. Adding to this dualism
are the two Wagner quotations used here - from the chorus "Gesegnet
sollst du screiten" ("Go forth with blessings") from
Lohengrin and the cascading string figurations from Tannhäuser.
Both operas feature a medieval Christian knight - one chastely married,
the other un-chastely devoted to Venus, the goddess of love.
In
the scherzo, I have never heard the string figures that open
the outer sections done with such a combination of teasing beguilement
and bump-in-the-night dread. Vänskä (left) and the orchestra
give the outer sections considerable bite and power while making
the central trio almost airy in its lightness, and spring the ländler
rhythms throughout the movement very engagingly. Though the performance
itself seems a little too refined to make the music seem truly rustic,
it is still a highly effective one, and the orchestra's ability
to change gears so completely between the contrasting sections is
literally amazing.
Conductor
and orchestra also make the most of the finale, the most problematical
movement here (Bruckner did not really master effective finales
until the Fifth). They lend real flair to the rushing music that
opens the movement and reappears occasionally afterwards, as well
as considerable charm to the dance music and solemnity to the chorale
Bruckner wrote as contrasting elements. The composer does not attempt
to blend all these elements, but juxtaposes them, wanting to show
the joy of life (the dance music) alongside its sadness (the chorale).
Since these elements are so disparate, holding the movement together
can become a serious challenge.
Vänskä
does an expert job of maintaining the general flow here, giving
each musical style its due while not allowing the proceedings as
a whole to unduly fragment. If the level of energy is not quite
as high as in the other movements, it is fully understandable, considering
that conductor and orchestra are juggling so much here already.
That is not to say they have their hands too full to make the music
exciting - it is actually very stirring, and has an overall sweep
that will keep you listening very intently - but there is much more
going on here than sheer thrills. As in the scherzo, the orchestra
differentiates the various styles of music here so convincingly,
and plays those styles with such versatility and contrasting individuality,
that the result borders on the miraculous.
This
is a highly recommended release, not only for the high level of
conducting and playing, but also for a version of this symphony
that is not played as often as perhaps it should. Special mention
must also be made for the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra. Though
the orchestra does not possess the tonal sheen of the Vienna Philharmonic
- a benchmark to which any orchestra performing Bruckner is inevitably
compared - it acquits itself very nicely, with excellent strings
and warm brass that only occasionally becomes more assertive than
necessary. I am looking forward to hearing more Bruckner from them
as well as Vänskä.
JONATHAN
YUNGKANS
was ready to storm the castle walls for himself after hearing this
symphony. Good thing he was already inside; he hasn't tried fitting
into his armor since before the holidays.
844:
7.1.2001 ©Jonathan Yungkans
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