Vaughan Williams: Symphony No. 5 in D; Symphony No. 9 in E Minor. (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Antonio Pappano, conductor; London Symphony Orchestra. LSO Live 0900

Ralph Vaughan Williams was such a complex figure that those with narrower outlooks (i.e. most of us) can have difficulty grasping the entirety of the man. It’s too easy to label him a conservative based upon his pastoral works, his interest in religious subjects, his patriotism, and his commitment to accessibility. On the other hand it’s almost equally easy to go too far in the opposite direction and, noting his links to some progressive causes and participation in the First World War, recklessly make him over as a “modernist.” A tradition-loving center-leftist (as I believe he came to be in his maturity) can seem like a cognitive dissonance in these divided times. When we consider his music, and even just the cycle of nine symphonies, we encounter a sheer expressive range to match his complex personality. Reflecting upon recordings of these works so far made, I would have to say that conductors often deftly embrace either his tranquil, visionary polarity or his dramatic, often dissonant opposite. But seldom do we get someone who is great at both. Excellent performances of single works are not uncommon, but I have yet to hear a whole cycle that is completely convincing all the way through.

 

Such were my thoughts as I listened to this recording. Truthfully, I was waiting for a more forceful conductor to give us a break in these symphonies from an overall British tendency toward tepidness. Antonio Pappano granted this wish but also made me see just what the likes of Adrian Boult and Andre Previn did so well. Pappano and the LSO give sharp, exciting accounts of the Fifth and Ninth Symphonies. On one level I would readily recommend them to anyone. But in my heart of hearts, I would still wish for that elusive numinous quality I had almost begun to take for granted. It isn’t even that Pappano does anything particularly “wrong”; he nearly always follows the scores with precision. Maybe sometimes too much precision at the expense of other stuff. Because in the very best interpretations of these two scores (which his aren’t), I can apprehend a little bit of what, in the words of the composer, “lies beyond sense and knowledge.”

I’ll start with the Ninth Symphony. Somewhat paradoxically, I consider this the better performance here and yet also the most difficult to explain in terms of why it holds me just a mite at arm’s length. There is perhaps some slight overplaying of dynamic markings in the first couple of movements (faintly reminiscent of Riccardo Chailly’s Beethoven, I thought), but not enough to matter overmuch. Otherwise, the music-making is a clinic in precision. What’s a bit underdone is a sense of sweep. The tragic middle theme in the second movement is absolutely heart-breaking at its climax. This music was originally intended for an opera treating Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the d'Urbervilles. Anyone who has read this novel knows how devastating it is emotionally. I need more of that devastation here. Likewise, in the outer sections of the movement (inspired by the Ghostly Drummer of Salisbury Plain) there could be more quiet menace. Sweep and menace are also somewhat under-supplied in the finale and third movement respectively. To be fair, I don’t know how Pappano is supposed to achieve them, but I know when they are present or not.

 

Pappano and Co. get off to a wonderful start in the Fifth Symphony: the first movement is extremely well conceived. I was excited after hearing it, and eager to see the direction the rest of the performance would take. But, as happens more often than I’d like, the remainder failed to live up to the beginning. The second movement is too rushed and “machine-like;” we lose the mystery of this quietly unsettling section. In the famous Romanza, Pappano overdoes some of the louder dynamics. Even when this movement reaches forte, there needs to be more gestural restraint, or we lose its visionary quality – the Pilgrim’s Progress-style reverence that hangs over the music. The finale repeats some of the problems in its two predecessors: Pappano just needs a calmer touch.

 

These are good performances, especially the Ninth. Pappano and the LSO bring a refreshing energy to the table, which served particularly well in this cycle’s first installment featuring the Fourth and Sixth Symphonies. (That Fourth is among the best available.) But Nos. 5 and 9 pose interpretive challenges that are unkind to a one- or even few-dimensional approach. Viewing this recording as part of the larger catalogue, it’s clear that breadth and depth come at a premium for these works.

Nielsen Orchestral Works (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Helios, Op. 17; Concerto for Clarinet and Orchestra, Op. 57; Symphony No. 5, Op. 50. Alessandro 

Carbonare, clarinet; Edward Gardner, conductor; Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra. Chandos CHSA 5314

 

We begin by revisiting one of my Classical Candor reviews from yesteryear. In it, I wrote the following about the first two installments of this Chandos Nielsen cycle:

 

In a recent review of another Nielsen symphony cycle (which you can read here), I pleaded for performers who properly understand this music. I don’t know how the forthcoming recordings in this Chandos series will turn out, but at two discs in I’m comfortable saying that my wish has been granted.

 

If I were a superstitious person I’d say I jinxed the series, because this third entry is a definite step down, thanks mainly to one work. Truthfully, the later Nielsen symphonies were always going to be telling tests. But I guess I let my initial enthusiasm run away with me. While Gardner’s Fifth with the BPO is not quite the pill that Fabio Luisi’s is with the DNSO, Gardner does as too many British conductors do with music of peculiar flavor: he sands down its edges into something genteel. We lose too much of the music’s essential character. And with Nielsen, it’s all about character.

 

Things start out okay in this Fifth. The quieter portions of the opening movement’s early build go well enough, though the mood could be slightly more menacing. But this is hardly the difficult part; it’s what performers do with the denouement that defines everything else. The first let-down arrives with the Adagio theme 268 measures in. This theme, marked molto espressivo, should come as a warm relief; it’s like the force of life in the Fourth Symphony set against chaos and destruction. But Gardner and Company are not very expressive: the tune falls flat. Worse still is the protracted struggle of this theme trying to reassert itself against its adversaries led by the clarinet and snare drum. The tension is often blunted, with the clarinet not being nearly obnoxious enough. When the climax does arrive at Rehearsal 16 (the triumphant return of the Adagio theme), and the subordination of disruptive elements, I am underwhelmed. The pent-up energy should shoot forth like a burst of radiance, but instead Gardner and Company give us a relatively sleepy summit. There’s not enough fire in their bellies.

I have mixed feelings about Gardner’s decisions in the following movement. The opening stretch should crackle with virile energy. But instead, the main theme gets finessed and smoothed over. It sounds more like a train ride through Lincolnshire than it does the first part of a cosmic struggle. Things improve with the middle fugues. In the first the tempo is good and the energy consistently high, even through the tempestuous parts. Likewise, the second, “rebirth” fugue proceeds along solid interpretive lines, though perhaps the vibe here is a bit too workmanlike: an ideal glow seems just beyond reach. Both the return of the initial material (and especially the conclusion) are likewise fine. From Rehearsal 30 onward the running eighth-note figures in the strings are suitably vigorous. It all closes with a satisfyingly robust send-off, though this does not make up for the weaker portions described above.

 

With the Helios Overture and the Clarinet Concerto we are back to the standard of strong, consistent performances established in this series’ first two entries. But maybe Gardner’s and the BPO’s interpretation of the Fifth Symphony have made me see their other Nielsen in a new light. Solid as their best typically is, I’m often missing that extra edge. With the overture, everything is balanced and well-conceived. The run time of 11:30 is about average. However, maybe those melodic notes in the march-like section could be a touch more vigorous. Maybe that depicted sunrise could scatter rays that are just a little more golden. Similarly, the Clarinet Concerto, in soloist Alessandro Carbonare’s very capable hands, comes off well. It’s probably the best rendered item on this disc. If I can find fault, it’s again with a polished product that perhaps cedes some of the music’s biting character at times. But this is a subtlety few will (or should) fuss over too much. I could recommend a couple of favorite performances, but I wouldn’t greatly prefer them. Anyone is going to be well served by this one.

So essentially the first crack in this series turns out to be an overly tame Fifth Symphony. I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised or disappointed. Carl Nielsen is one of those composers whose sheer range of expression is difficult for one set of performers to capture equally well across the complete orchestral works. Even Leonard Bernstein never recorded the complete cycle of symphonies, and produced a rather clumsy Second and Fourth in addition to a white-hot Third and peerless Fifth. But now Gardner and the BPO have the First and Sixth Symphonies remaining, I believe. Hitting bullseyes on such disparate targets with their next disc would go a long way toward redemption.