Bach: Brandenburg Concertos (SACD review)

Richard Egarr, Academy of Ancient Music. Harmonia Mundi HMU 897461.62.

You may remember that the Academy of Ancient Music, a period-instruments group, already recorded Bach’s six Brandenburg Concertos once before, some years ago under Christopher Hogwood. So why would they want to release another set in 2009 under the direction of Richard Egarr?  (Yes, I got to this one a little late, but better late than..., no?) Anyway, Egarr explains that this set of Brandenburgs differs from most other sets in several ways: First, they chose “to present them with one player per part, which certainly highlights the chamber aspect of the music” and “also allows for a balanced dialogue between soloists and tutti.” Second, they chose to adopt “what is referred to as ‘French’ Baroque pitch, i.e. A = 392Hz. This choice is suggested by the French-model (indeed French-played) wind instruments that dominated Bach’s area of Germany at the time the Brandenburgs were written. This has an extraordinary effect on the ‘richesse’ of sound in the music” and it “alters and improves certain usually problematic balances.”

Fair enough. But are the results worthwhile with so many other notable Brandenburg sets on the market? I mean, just the fine ones from Pinnock (Avie and Archiv), Marriner (Philips), Lamon (Tafelmusik or Sony), Leppard (Philips), Savall (Astree), Hogwood (L’Oiseau-Lyre), Apollo’s Fire (Avie), and Leonhardt (Sony) could fill a shelf. Well, obviously, that answer one can only determine for oneself, but I can say I enjoyed this new set from Egarr, although not enough to give it a recommendation.

You’ll also remember that Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos sound different from one another because the composer never meant them to be a cohesive group. Margrave Christian Ludwig of Brandenburg commissioned Bach to write several pieces for him, and what he got a few years later from Bach was a collection of six works for various-sized ensembles and various solo instruments that the composer had probably written at various times for various other occasions. More’s the better for us.

Concerto No. 1 is among the longest of the Brandenburgs and arranged for the biggest ensemble. It is also my least favorite, no matter who is performing it. Concerto No. 2 is among the most popular of the pieces and highlights the oboe, recorder, violin, and trumpet, the latter getting in some good playing time. Listeners probably know Concerto No. 3 as well as they know No. 2, maybe even more so. Concerto No. 4 is Bach’s most playful, with the soloists darting in and out of the structure. Concerto No. 5 is another of my personal favorites, highlighting solos from the violin, flute, and, unusually, harpsichord. One of the smallest ensembles, eight players, ensures a greater clarity of sound. While Concerto No. 6 is for me the least distinctive work of the set and uses the smallest ensemble, seven players, it never actually feels small. In fact, its only real deficiency is its similarity to Concerto No. 3, if usually taken at a slower speed.

The first thing that strikes me about these performances from Richard Egarr and his AAM players is how gently they flow, how relaxed they sound. Egarr takes his time with them in an old-fashioned sort of way, rather than plowing through them in the quick-paced approach so favored by most other period-instrument bands these days. It comes as a pleasant surprise, even though it’s so different it may not be to everyone’s taste.

The lower pitch is also a surprise and goes well with the stately tempos Egarr adopts. The “however” here is that the lower notes also tend to thicken the sound somewhat, making it less clear and focused. The effect may take some getting used to.

And yet another surprise is Egarr’s decision to use a theorbo (a bass lute with two sets of strings attached to separate peg boxes, one above the other, on the neck) as part of the continuo in five of the six concertos. He calls the decision “a delicious luxury which I couldn’t forgo.” Frankly, I’m not sure he needed to do it; Bach didn’t call for it, probably for good reason, and it does rather sound a distracting note at times. It doesn’t help with the transparency of the sonics, either.

None of which is to suggest that Egarr’s accounts of the Brandenburgs aren’t worthy of a listen. For example, the trumpet, recorder, oboe, and violin soloists in No. 2 are quite delightful. Moreover, No. 3 proceeds at a livelier gait than most of the others, and the players are immaculate in their articulation.

No. 4 is among the most-charming realizations of this little concerto I’ve heard. The sound is still a little reverberant for my liking, but it takes nothing away from the music making.

As I had hoped, Egarr brings off No. 5 pretty well, even if the second-movement Affetuoso (affectionate, with tender warmth) drags a bit. Interestingly, Egarr elects to use a guitar in here rather than the theorbo, and while it is hardly noticeable, it makes a nice contribution.

Harmonia Mundi recorded the music in 2008 at St. Jude’s-on-the-Hill, Hampstead Garden, London, for playback via a hybrid stereo/multichannel SACD disc. The lower pitch makes the sound appear warmer than it probably really is, and the venue seems to inflate that warmth with its own natural hall resonance. The result, then, is a bit thick and veiled, even played back in the disc’s SACD mode, and not as transparent as one might expect from so small an ensemble. Oddly, too, despite the seemingly cavernous nature of the recording environment, there is relatively little space or depth to the sound. The harpsichord doesn’t come through very prominently, either, which may be good or bad depending on how you feel about harpsichords. Likewise, dynamics seem somewhat muted, possibly again because of the acoustic. Be this as it may, the sonics are pleasing enough, and they do tend to complement the gracious flow of Egarr’s interpretations, even when they won’t satisfy many audiophile listeners.

JJP

Prokofiev: Symphony No. 5 (CD review)

Also, The Year 1941. Marin Alsop, Sao Paulo Symphony Orchestra. Naxos 8.573029.

After listening for years to Marin Alsop’s recordings with the Baltimore Symphony, it came as a pleasant experience to hear her also as the Principal Conductor of the Sao Paulo Symphony Orchestra (Orquestra Sinfônica do Estado de São Paulo, or OSESP). She took over the Brazilian orchestra on a five-year contract starting in 2012, and I believe this is her first recording with the group and the first recording in a complete cycle of Prokofiev symphonies she plans for Naxos.

Sergei Prokofiev (1891-53) wrote the fifth of his seven symphonies in 1944, near the end of World War II. Next to his First Symphony, the Fifth Symphony is probably the most well liked of the bunch. The composer called the work “a symphony about the spirit of man,” his response to the turmoil of the War. As such it opens with the pain of that nightmare, a kind of prelude to the peace to come. By 1944 the Soviets could see an end to the War, and a relatively restrained opening Andante builds slowly, seriously and grandly, Ms. Alsop developing it with a gentle yet firm hand.

A Scherzo follows, which lightens the climate considerably. You can tell the composer initially intended the music for his Romeo and Juliet ballet; you can feel the same spirit present. Ms. Alsop handles it particularly well, especially the surging, constantly shifting rhythms.

Ms. Alsop’s high point, however, is the long, brooding third-movement Adagio, with its purely lyrical elements. Here, she brings out the delicate ballet-like qualities of the music. Although she takes most of the symphony at a fairly relaxed pace, she actually advances the argument of the Adagio at a greater intensity than we normally hear. It easily sustains one’s interest at a high level.

The finale should bring the symphony to a joyful close, and Ms. Alsop accomplishes this end in good measure. Her interpretation is passionate, melodious, and triumphant, carrying the piece to a fitting conclusion that I found quite satisfying.

Coupled with the Fifth Symphony, Prokofiev’s symphonic suite The Year 1941 makes an apt companion. The composer wrote it in response to the German invasion of the Soviet Union, so what we get in the disc’s two works is music about the early part and the winding down of the War. However, Soviet censors didn’t much care for the tone of The Year 1941 (not finding it momentous enough); Soviet critics didn’t much like the music, either; and Soviet audiences didn’t much respond to it. There are moments within it, true, that seem to border on satire, but one cannot deny the work’s overall honest significance. I’ve always rather liked its various blustery war moods, and I particularly like the vigorous way Ms. Alsop responds to them.

Naxos recorded the music at the Sala Sao Paulo, Brazil, in 2011. Moderately distanced, the sound has a good deal of orchestral depth involved, if not so wide a left-to-right stereo spread. Still, it’s quite impressive in a realistic sort of way. While there are some good, strong outbursts from time to time, most of the dynamics seem a trifle subdued, the midrange a tad veiled, and the high end a bit muted. This might be the result of the miking, too. In any case, the sound is distinctly of the concert-hall variety rather than overtly “hi-fi.”

JJP

Stravinsky: The Firebird Suite (UltraHD CD)

Also, Borodin: Music from Prince Igor. Robert Shaw, Atlanta Symphony Orchestra and Chorus. LIM UHD 057.

This newly remastered audiophile edition of Stravinsky's Firebird Suite from LIM (Lasting Impression Music, an affiliate label of FIM, First Impression Music) takes me way back. I believe it was just the second album recorded by the then-fledging Telarc Records corporation. When it came out on LP in 1978, it made Telarc one of the first companies to release a digital recording of a major symphony orchestra. Their first digital album had been with Frederick Fennell and the Cleveland Symphonic Winds doing Handel and Holst, and this one with the Atlanta Symphony followed soon after.

I remember all this because I was writing for the $ensible Sound magazine at the time, and Telarc was kind enough to send me a copy of The Firebird Suite for review; I got rather excited since the recording was among the first of its kind. I also remember, though, that while I found the sound quite good, I was not as taken by Shaw’s performance, which seemed OK but not exceptional to me at the time. So it was with much anticipation that I looked forward to hearing it again after more than three decades, remastered to today’s best audio standards by LIM. And what would I find out? Maybe the newly invigorated sound would help me to appreciate Shaw’s rendition even more than I had before.

Anyway, the Russian-born, American composer Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971) wrote his complete Firebird ballet in 1910, and along with his subsequent ballets Petrushka (1911) and The Rite of Spring (1913) would forever influence the nature of symphonic music, closing out the Romantic era and ushering in what today we refer to as the Modern period of classical music. I doubt that Stravinsky had any idea of the ultimate impact he and others of his generation were introducing into the world of music, but we’re all probably the better for it. Certainly, the Firebird shows us the beginnings of these changes, although not nearly so much as the Rite of Spring would just a few years later.

The Firebird could hardly lose. Stravinsky based the ballet on various Russian folk tales about a magical bird that could grant help or harm to those who captured him. A young prince wandering through the enchanted land of Kashchei the Immortal happens upon the bird and captures him. The bird grants the prince a magic feather in return for his release. From there we get an adventure involving the prince, a group of fair lovely maidens, an inevitable love, an argument between the prince and Kashchei, some physical conflict, and a final resolution courtesy of the bird. It’s all very exotic, warmhearted, and exciting.

In 1919, the composer devised a suite from the complete ballet, paring it down to about twenty minutes or so. Much later, in 1945, he revised the suite, making another, longer one, but Robert Shaw chose to record the earlier, more familiar arrangement. This original suite benefits from being more concise, offering all of the most-familiar music in a briefer form.

Under Shaw, the introduction has a suitably dark and mystical quality to it. “The Firebird and Her Dance” comes off well, too, with more color than I had remembered from my first listen so long ago. The “Round Dance of the Princess” sounds sweet and melancholy at the same time and conjures up comparisons to the work of Rimsky-Korsakov. “The Infernal Dance of Kashchei” displays a good deal of energy and generates a requisite passion. Then the anticlimactic “Lullaby” leads us effortlessly into the Finale, which Shaw infuses with much joy and jubilation, ending with a truly thunderous crash from Telarc’s patented big bass drum.

If I could find any “however” involved, it is that at a much lower cost one can buy Antal Dorati’s complete Firebird on a Mercury Living Presence recording, which remains the benchmark performance of the work and still sounds remarkably good. Alternatively, one could also buy Riccardo Muti’s rendition of The Firebird Suite coupled with Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition on a single EMI disc, both of which are excellent recordings interpretively and sonically. Nevertheless, Shaw’s rendition does have the benefit of LIM/Telarc’s superb sound, the best of the lot, and, the fact is, the performance is better than I first gave it credit.

Under Shaw’s direction, the two accompanying pieces by Aleksandr Borodin (1833-1887)--the Overture and “Polovetsian Dances” from Prince Igor--share a similar distinction with The Firebird. These performances may face stiff competition from Georg Solti and the LSO on LIM’s own audiophile remastering of Decca’s Romantic Russia, but they’re satisfactory in their own, more-romanticized, low-key manner, especially the choir, which sings splendidly.

Telarc engineer Jack Renner and producer Robert Woods recorded the music in Symphony Hall, the Atlanta Memorial Arts Center, in June of 1978. The sonics as remastered by LIM in their 32-bit UltraHD mastering process are sharply focused without in any way sounding hard, metallic, edgy, glassy, or “digital.” Indeed, the recording has a full, rich, fluid texture that probably replicates the sound of the orchestra and hall pretty well, a sound from LIM slightly smoother than Telarc’s own mastering. The miking is a tad close for my taste, but it does capture a wonderful clarity and in the Borodin very natural, lifelike voices, if not so much orchestral depth. As expected, the bass is deep and transient impact impressive.

JJP