Markus Stenz,
Gurzenich-Orchester Koln. Oehms Classics OC 652.
Oh, joy. Another live recording.
Readers who wish to avoid having to read a personal rant
may safely move on to the next paragraph. I mean, even the phrase annoys me. Is
a studio recording or one without an audience a “dead recording”? I know that
many conductors and record companies swear by recordings made before a live
audience, saying it makes the performance more spontaneous and all. Leonard
Bernstein insisted on doing most of his recordings live from the early
Seventies on, saying that he liked the results better. Maybe he felt the
audience inspired him the way no empty hall could. I dunno. What I do know is
that I’ve heard very few live recordings I thought sounded better than
more-controlled studio productions. In a live recording the engineer has to
minimize audience noise either by placing the microphones too close to or too
far away from the orchestra for my liking, and still I usually hear or sense
the audience’s presence. Then there are the unfortunate bursts of applause that
some engineers, conductors, or record companies persist in retaining. It seems
to me that the primary reason for most live recordings is economic. It’s
expensive to pay an orchestra for a studio recording session, and, therefore, a
paying audience helps subsidize the recording costs.
That said, there is surely little to criticize about the
performance on the present disc. Markus Stenz has been the conductor of the
Gurzenich Orchestra Cologne since 2003, and the orchestra itself is one of the
oldest in Europe, tracing its origins back to 1827. Moreover, the orchestra
premiered a number of big works in its time, including both the Mahler Third and Fifth Symphonies. Furthermore, Stenz himself has already proved his
worth in Mahler by recording most of the symphonies and songs to good effect.
His Seventh is no exception.
So, what’s the Seventh
all about, this typically massive Mahler symphony? The conventional answer is
that it’s a transitional work, connecting the darker Sixth Symphony to the triumphant Eighth. Of course, musical scholars are keen on pointing out how
Mahler interconnected all nine (or ten or eleven) of his symphonies, forming
one grand musical statement. If there is a sublime scheme in things, the Seventh has long been the neglected
stepchild of the lot. While the other symphonies get all the love, the Seventh often goes wanting.
Gustav Mahler (1860-1911) wrote the Symphony No. 7 in E minor in 1904-05, and it is probably his most
biographical work. Along with the Fifth
and Sixth Symphonies, the Seventh
forms a middle trio of Mahler symphonies, all of them purely orchestral, with
the Seventh being the oddest of the
group. Even more so than most of Mahler’s works, its five movements are open to
multiple interpretations, and with practically every conductor on Earth having
recorded them, we get a variety of readings. I remember one critic once
explaining that the symphony was a recounting by Mahler of his trip to the
countryside, complete with his packing of suitcases, traveling through rural
roads, along pastures, and on to his destination. Other critics see its five
movements more generally as a journey from dusk until dawn or a night walk into
morning, a kind of eccentric, extended nocturne.
Maestro Stenz takes a more middling approach than most
conductors, attempting to make the music all things to all people. He opens the
symphony (when "Nature roars") on an appropriately heavy note,
setting us up as Mahler intended for a journey from darkness into light, for as
the composer himself commented, it was a work of "predominantly cheerful,
humoristic content." Well, whether you believe that or not is beside the
point. I suppose you could say that most of Mahler's work was
"humoristic" if you count the various ironic, sardonic movements.
Let's say that Stenz carries out the composer's
instructions that "the music must always contain a longing for beyond this
world." Stenz provides an airy, singing, otherworldly quality to the
playing. This is particularly evident in the two Nachtmusik interludes that bookend the middle movement. These
serenades have a lilting yet shadowy air about them, the second one more
pastoral than the first.
Then, speaking of "shadowy," the central Scherzo is a kind of demonic dance
macabre, which Stenz pulls off pretty well, without making it too melodramatic.
Although it's still a little creepy, it's never a caricature of itself. It
seems more of an inevitable piece of the bigger composition than sometimes
occurs when a conductor gets carried away with the bizarre nature of Mahler's
creation. The unrest is there, but it's mostly just mysterious without being
cacophonous.
That brings us to the Finale,
one of Mahler's more unruly movements. Many listeners hear echos of Wagner's Meistersinger in it, the fairground, the
hustle and bustle, and, naturally, the jubilant fanfares. They're surely hard
to miss. Stenz guides us through the hurly-burly pretty successfully, never
letting the music simply march along from one Wagnerian crescendo to another
but smoothly laying out the plan and seamlessly connecting the dots. In other
words, Stenz ensures that Mahler's music remains of a whole, building and releasing
the conflicts and stresses in perfectly natural, free-flowing rhythms, ending
on a wonderfully triumphant note. It's a most enjoyable reading.
Producer and engineer Dieter Oehms recorded the music live
for multichannel and two-channel stereo SACD, June 23-27, 2012 in the Kolner
Philharmonie (Cologne Philharmonic Hall), Koln, Germany. I listened only to the
two-channel SACD layer where I found the sonic value of the live recording
remained high despite the relatively close miking. There is a moderately good
sense of depth to the orchestra, and we get a reasonably wide dynamic range and
impact. However, the miking also reveals flaws in the orchestral execution.
What's more, the midrange sounds a tad too soft, warm, and weighty much of the
time where you might expect more transparency (the orchestration is lighter
than in most Mahler symphonies). High-end extension sounds impressive, and
occasional bass thumps make their mark. One almost never hears the audience,
thankfully, but there is a slight background noise present during quieter
passages.
Oh, and there is no applause at the end to interrupt our
final appreciation of the music. With no applause and a quiet audience, it’s
almost like a non-live recording. Which is what they should have done in the first
place.
For some years now my favorite recordings of the Mahler Seventh have been those from Bernard
Haitink and the Concertgebouw Orchestra, his earlier analogue account for its
greater tension and his later digital one for its greater beauty (both for
Philips). As for Stenz, his interpretation holds up pretty well by comparison,
offering some of the same combinations of tenseness and delight. Nevertheless,
the Gurzenich Orchestra cannot match the Concertgebouw for sheer richness of
tone, lushness of character, or precision of playing.
One last note: While the music never sounds rushed, Stenz is able to move it along well enough to fit on a single disc.
To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click here:
JJP
