Sibelius: Orchestral Works (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Sibelius: Lemminkäinen Suite, Op. 22; Violin Concerto in D Minor, Op. 47. Santtu-Matias Rouvali, conductor; Ava Bahari, violinist; Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra. Alpha Classics 1215

In a CD review for an academic journal last year, I quoted a line from G. K. Chesterton’s great apologetic The Everlasting Man. The same words kept going through my mind as I listened to this recording, so I am going to share them again here: “When the Professor is told by the Polynesian that once there was nothing except a great feathered serpent, unless the learned man feels a thrill and a half temptation to wish it were true, he is no judge of such things at all.” I don’t know what Santtu-Matias Rouvali feels when he reads the Kalevala’s vivid stories of Lemminkäinen. But I feel that his performance of Sibelius’s Lemminkäinen Suite with the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra misses Chesterton’s standard of conviction. 

 

What the attuned listener needs for this music are two things: a keen grasp of the legendary, and a willingness to fully bring Lemminkäinen’s unbridled virility to life. The best performances capture the sense that these stories might actually be distant memories from a lost age, in which magic was still possible and events unfolded with a fairy tale’s inexorable destiny. We should almost remember being there, something akin to what Vaughan Williams expressed about seeing Stonehenge for the first time – that he’d somehow always known it. Additionally, at least in the first number there should be an atmosphere charged with overt eroticism. This is tied to Lemminkäinen’s specific characterization in Canto 29 of the Kalevala as a swaggering, womanizing “wanton.” (Consider, too, how Sibelius himself behaved when he traveled abroad with his cohorts or embarked upon Symposium benders. “Every note should be experienced,” he once advised young composers.) 

 

Rouvali is a fine musician, but he disappoints on both of these crucial levels. His biggest letdown is in failing to capture the sheer passion of Lemminkäinen’s romp with the maidens of Saari. We need a vibe akin to a young man freshly dropped off at college who is away from his parents for the first time, surrounded by beautiful women and possibilities. But Rouvali leads more in the direction of the geeky reject who withdraws alone into his dorm room to play Minecraft. Musically the biggest culprit is that he doesn’t lean into the expressive passages enough. The fervent tunes and running figures need more lustiness. Mere precision is a secondary concern. Ditto the woodwind motives making up the main theme and restated in the aftermath of the climax. They’re too “brought to heel” in this performance. Crassness should be avoided but these call for ardency. My favorite recording (Saraste with the Toronto Symphony) at times feels like its wheels are about to spin off. Never mind; those folks absolutely nail the mood. 

 

Related issues plague the remaining parts of the suite, albeit to a lesser degree. The famous Swan of Tuonela is skillfully rendered but tonally off. Once again Rouvali’s allergy to lushness dampens the proceedings. His strings supply a steely brilliance where softer resplendence is preferable. The last two pieces, Lemminkäinen in Tuonela and Lemminkäinen’s Return are markedly better, but they still lack the voltage of elite accounts. It’s not so much that Rouvali changes his approach here as he’s let off the hook by reduced lyrical demands. But even under these propitious conditions we still lack the high drama supplied by Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra, or by Leif Segerstam and the Helsinki Philharmonic. Lemminkäinen’s Return is the high point here and it’s middling. There’s plenty of pep, but we need a touch more atmosphere. Furthermore, Rouvali duplicates an unfortunate misstep that mars many other accounts: he directs his flutists to underplay an already piano dynamic when their “calls” enter at Rehearsal 6 and expand in subsequent measures. Following score directions is good, but not to the point where it’s difficult to hear principal motives. This material, while fleeting, is an important part of the musical narrative. 

 

Finally we come to the Violin Concerto, and I’m afraid this take just pushes average. It’s not for a lack of soloist ability. Ava Bahari has an uncommonly warm tone and excels in the passages that call for it. She’s also no slouch as a virtuoso, as this finale demonstrates. While I think she could use more rhythmic snap at times (especially in her exposed passages at the beginning), mostly she’s just contained by a reticent supporting cast. One example is paradigmatic: the Largamente theme following Rehearsal 3 in the opening movement. This melodic stretch is Sibelian GOLD – one of the signature moments in all of his output. But Rouvali practically bails on Bahari! There must be robust string section support and he ducks it. Sibelius indicated espressivo and affettuoso. What more did he need to do for performers to bare their hearts here?

 

I don’t know Maestro Rouvali, so I won’t ascribe motivations to him. But I hope he isn’t one of those post-Sibelian Finnish artists who is embarrassed by frank displays of sentiment and nationalism. If he isn’t, someone he trusts should nudge him toward a better contrary impression. If he is, I would gently tell him that some of the very things modernist snobs consider backward or hokey about his national heritage are precisely what many of us abroad love about it. We may not all have prominent positions at London publications, nor frequent the proverbial cocktail parties, but we listen eagerly and from the gut. When someone conducts Sibelius like he’d rather be conducting Stravinsky, we notice. So embrace the feathered serpents, Maestro, and the flawed heroes from your glorious folklore. They’re not a bad look.