Klaus Tennstedt (conductor)
Live Volume 5
Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
Symphony No.1 in C major, Op.21
Symphony No.2 in D major, Op.36
Pyotr Tchaikovsky (1840-1893)
Rococo Variations for Cello and Orchestra, Op.33
Anton Bruckner (1824-1896)
Symphony No.7 in E major
Paul Tortelier (cello)
Toronto Symphony Orchestra, Philadelphia Orchestra, Chicago Symphony Orchestra
rec. 1977-88
Doremi DHR-8251/2 [2 CDs: 145]
Klaus Tennstedt made no studio recordings of the works on this pair of CDs, so their appearance is doubly welcome. Live performances of the three symphonies have been issued, however. The recordings of the Beethoven symphonies in this set had been issued by Memories Excellence (ME1069). The label’s set of Tennstedt’s complete Beethoven symphonies (ME1020-24) included the First Symphony in a 1968 performance with the Mecklenburgische Staatskapelle (one of his earliest recordings, made before he escaped to the West), and the Second Symphony from Boston in 1977. BBC Legends issued a 1989 LPO performance of No.1 (review).
Tennstedt’s other performances of Bruckner Seventh include another from 1984 by the LPO (on its own label, LPO-0030). There is a DVD of a 1977 Boston performance (review), also available in audio only on the Canadian St Laurent Studio label (YSL 0570 T). None of the others seems to have been reviewed on MWI. And no other Tennstedt’s Rococo Variations performance is available, as far as I know.
The two Beethoven symphonies are big-boned, old fashioned performances of a sort which are comparatively rare today, when matching or exceeding the composer’s metronome marks seems to be the main goal. They are not slow in a Celibidachean way, but are regularly below the speeds often encountered now. There also is no reduction in the size of the orchestra, as is often the case today.
The First Symphony’s introduction is most beautifully and delicately phrased, very much in the old way, and the allegro is full of vitality, life and momentum, for all its slowish tempo by modern standards. The second movement has an elegance which is almost Beecham-like; the third is perhaps a little tardy, but still has plenty of spirit. The performance of the finale looks forward to later symphonies; again it is full of vitality, but does not scamper in an 18th-century way.
The Second symphony’s first movement is fast and highly dramatic – far closer to the modern approach – and tremendously dynamic. Nor is the second movement particularly slow, and it is played with a wonderful legato and moulding of the line. The third movement is quite slow, but its trenchancy and character make up for any lack of speed. The fourth movement is fast and highly dramatic with a very “unbuttoned” feel.
The Rococo Variations are an unexpected, very welcome addition to Tennstedt’s discography, especially as the great Paul Tortelier is the cellist. Tortelier, unsurprisingly, made several recordings of the piece, the first as far back as 1948, but I doubt that he was ever better than in this performance. It is very free and rhapsodic. Every variation is characterised with complete conviction. Listen to the reflective Variation 3 (5:20): the lyricism, dynamic variety and creative tempo rubato are a joy. The cadenza between Variations 5 and 6 is similarly fine. Tennstedt is a wonderful accompanist, breathing with Tortelier and mirroring his freedom perfectly. The Philadelphia Orchestra is an equal partner in the performance; the flute and clarinet duet beautifully with the cello in Variation 6. The final Variation 7 (16:25), with a riotous joie de vivre, brings the piece to a jubilant conclusion.
Bruckner’s Seventh inhabits a very different world, in which Tennstedt is even more at home. From the very opening of the first movement – where Tennstedt moulds the unison horn and cellos with an extraordinarily sensitive lyricism against the magical violin tremolando – it is clear that we will experience something exceptional. There is a wonderful ebb and flow throughout the movement, not exactly of rubato (though there is rubato), but of tension and relaxation that is more to do with emotion than tempo. Tennstedt is certainly more overtly emotional than such central interpreters as Günter Wand. At times, he is even more so than Furtwängler; listen at 8:30 into the first movement, for example. But to my ears it never becomes overwrought. A similarly exceptional accumulation of tension occurs from 18:20 to the coda of the movement, where a true catharsis is experienced.
The second movement gets an outstanding performance of extraordinary lyricism and intensity. Perhaps the climax at 18:00 is a little too much, but the coda is of numinous beauty. As a whole, it would be difficult to imagine a performance significantly better.
I found the first enunciation of the theme in the Scherzo rather too detached for my taste. The trumpet has accents over each note and the marking is hervortretend (emphasised). Even so, I do not see that as asking for a semi-staccato, rather as an indication of weight of tone. Still, in every other way, the approach is cogent and convincing. The trio is taken very slowly and lyrically without the momentum ever faltering.
The finale is quite fast; it is marked Bewegt, which could be translated as “moving forward”. The sense of moving towards a conclusion, musical and emotional, is there from the first bar. This is a truly optimistic finale. The perkiness of the woodwind in the first minute of the movement sets the tone; the sense of eager approach, almost a rush, to the final section never lets up. This really is an uplifting performance.
I suppose that the recordings were all taken off-air from broadcasts (several retain the spoken introductions), so they were made non-professionally around 40 years ago. Given that provenance, their quality is remarkably good, and the Rococo Variations are particularly fine. I cannot imagine anyone would find the sound in any way an obstacle to the enjoyment of these performances.
Tennstedt’s concerts with the LPO gave me some of the most memorable musical experiences of my life. It was tragic that his health forced him to retire at so early an age (by conductors’ standards). Long may this Doremi series continue.
Paul Steinson
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Recording details
live, 8 September 1977, Massey Hall, Toronto, Canada (Beethoven); 8 January 1988, Academy of Music, Philadelphia, USA (Tchaikovsky); 31 May and 2 June 1984, Chicago, USA (Bruckner)
