Anton Bruckner (1824-1896)
Te Deum (1885)
Symphony No. 8 (ed. Haas, 1887/90 Mixed Version)
Krassimira Stoyanova (soprano)
Yvonne Naef (mezzo-soprano)
Christoph Strehl (tenor)
Günther Groissböck (bass)
Chor und Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks/Bernard Haitink
rec. live, 10-12 November 2010, Philharmonie im Gasteig, Munich (Te Deum); 15-17 December 1993, Herkulessal der Residenz, Munich (Symphony)
Text in German and English translation
BR Klassik 900212 [2 CDs: 112]
A long lifetime of conducting and recording distinguished performances of Bruckner means that there is still plenty of potential for (re-)issues of Haitink’s achievement in that field; I was recently very impressed by his live recordings of the Fourth Symphony (review), on the same label as here, and before that his Seventh on the Vienna Philharmonic’s own label (review). Now we have a reasonably priced double CD issue of two of his concerts seventeen years apart. Unfortunately they are duds.
I must make a terrible confession: despite my knowing that most Brucknerians love his choral, liturgical works, I have never especially warmed to them and even knowing that Bruckner himself preferred his Te Deum over all other of his compositions, I find it somewhat four-square and uninventive in comparison with the symphonies, relying for impact on the sheer scale of the outbursts from the choir. Nonetheless, its composition was roughly contemporaneous with that of the Sixth and Seventh Symphonies, so we must surely find the mark of the mature Bruckner in it – and at something over twenty minutes, it is an approachable work of modest duration by Bruckner’s standards. I have long had on my shelves Barenboim’s 1981 DG recording from Chicago with a superb line-up of soloists: Jessye Norman, Yvonne Minton, David Rendall and Samuel Ramey – and this 2010 recording cannot hope to rival that team. The tenor has the leading role in this work, especially in the second movement, “Te quaesimus”, and in the fourth, “Salvum fac”, and Christoph Strehl does not begin to match Rendall’s vibrancy, fervour and firmness – in fact his voice is weak, cloudy and wholly undistinguished, the high notes effortful and lacking pharyngeal resonance. Nor can either Krassimira Stoyanova or Günther Groissböck hold a candle to Norman and Ramey, and with all due respect to Yvonne Minton, whose voice I love, the mezzo-soprano is given so little to do that it doesn’t much matter who sings that part, as long as she is competent – which Yvonne Naef is. Haitink finds tenderness in the quiet passages and creates a sense of space and grandeur, but not the verve which, for example, Barenboim injects into the opening of the third movement marked Feierlich mit Kraft, meaning solemnly with strength – or force, energy, power, which are missing here. The conclusion heats up a bit – the top C of the sopranos in the choir is impressive – but I would not even say that BR Klassik’s sound confers much of an advantage over the early digital DG engineering – in fact, it is a little muddy by comparison. Really, this is something of a non-event.
I was thus hoping for better in the symphony. Post 2005, Haitink changed his mind about which version of the Eighth Symphony to conduct and switched from the Haas, as per here, to the slightly shorter Nowak score, without Haas’ insertions, and which, according to modern scholarship, more truly represents the composer’s final thoughts – not that I think most listeners are too bothered about which is employed. Unfortunately, the opening tremolo lacks tension and impact and sets the tone, and the first attacked chord a minute in is ragged; oh dear. This is my favourite symphony and I am demanding, being well acquainted with favourite recordings by Karajan with the VPO, Tennstedt with the LPO and Sinopoli with the Dresdeners, so I try to avoid being hypercritical; of course this is generally admirably played and conducted – how could it be otherwise with a conductor and orchestra of this calibre? – but everyone can have an off day, things just might not gel, and this performance fails to take off into transcendence. I will take Furtwängler’s 1944 live account, with its primitive sound, orchestral flubs and messy ensemble any day over this under review, because it is thrilling, profound and desperate. There are undoubtedly impressive moments and passages here; for example, the last two or three minutes of the first movement, when the mighty, sonorous ensemble collapses into the quiet (1890 version) ending, and the Scherzo is fine, if a little too measured, but the core of this symphony is the Adagio, which at a duration of half an hour, hangs quite loosely and is several minutes slower than my preferred recordings but without Celibidache’s (review) – or indeed Ballot’s (review) – gift for creating a special, mesmeric intensity. Many gripping moments with those two conductors who consciously adopt leisurely tempi go for nothing here. I stress: there is nothing ostensibly “wrong” with this recording, but somehow it eludes the magic which illuminates the best; the pulse is weaker, the dynamic contrasts less telling. The climax at 23:17, complete with cymbal clash, is reasonably effective, but to check my response I reverted to those favoured recordings and it is relatively tame. Certainly, the coda has none of the heart-breaking tenderness I hear in those; indeed, the brass is poorly balanced and a bit gross. The finale delivers more of the same: well-played but hardly inspired, and somewhat episodic and plodding in nature, without the sweep of more driven accounts.
Having highly praised other recordings of his live concerts, as detailed in my opening paragraph above, I dare to say that for once the answer to the ironic, self-deprecatory question Haitink often posed after concerts, “Was it too Dutch?” is “Yes.”
Ralph Moore
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