Anton Bruckner (1824-1896)
Symphony No. 8 in C minor (Version 1890, ed. Schaller)
Philharmonie Festiva/Gerd Schaller
rec. live 14 July 2024, Former Cistercian Abbey Church, Ebrach, Germany
Hänssler Profil PH25006 [70]

As is so often the case with a Bruckner symphony, the history of his Eighth is complicated and confusing. It exists in several main versions: for a recording of the first of 1887 I favour Kent Nagano on the Farao label, but later this month as I write Gerd Schaller’s live performance of it in Ebrach will be recorded and eventually issued on the same label as this new issue of the final 1890 version; then there is an “intermediate” version of 1888, edited by William Carragan, of which Maestro Schaller made a world premiere recording (review) with the same forces and in the same venue as here; next, is the so-called “mixed 1887/1890” version edited by Haas, for which I recommend Karajan’s last recording in Vienna; hitherto, my favourite recording of the aforementioned final version from 1890 edited by Nowak is Sinopoli’s; then the best recording of a cut version of that as it was played in the first performance by Hans Richter, in Vienna in 1892, is from Knappertsbusch in 1963 for Decca; we should also not overlook the thrilling, live, wartime performance of an edition based on Haas prepared and conducted by Furtwängler. Here, we have yet another edition made by the conductor himself. It is apparently based on the Nowak edition but Schaller’s study of the sources has resulted in his making different interpretive choices regarding details of articulation, phrasing, and dynamics that he believes more accurately reflect Bruckner’s true intentions. For his edition of the Eighth, has in particular considered tempo relationships and metronome marking, resulting in a generally swifter and arguably more cohesive structural flow.

Recordings of the Nowak edition are generally faster than those of the Haas, on the grounds that the latter restored some cuts accepted by the former, and often run well beyond eighty minutes, even if that is not by any means always the case. It is true that, in line with modern trends, all of Gerd Schaller’s more recent Bruckner recordings – the 1877 Second; the 1877 Third and the 1888 Fourth – embrace a more urgent approach, so it is no surprise that this new recording is under seventy minutes, which is a full thirteen minutes faster than his recording of the 1888 ‘variant’ twelve years ago. Crudely speaking, Bruckner conductors tend to divide into the “slow and spiritual” and the “fast(er) and furious” camps, so there are swifter but still highly satisfying accounts of the Haas Eighth such as those by van Beinum, Roegner, Mravinsky, Barbirolli in 1970 and Haitink, all with a duration of around the mid-seventies mark and an even faster widely praised account by Schuricht. On the other hand, some great recordings of the supposedly shorter Nowak edition are far more leisurely than Schaller here; we are not necessarily talking of outliers like Celibidache in Munich or Ballot (both 104!) but more mainstream exponents such as Sinopoli and Giulini (both mid-eighties). In the end, it hardly seems to matter which edition and what tempi are chosen; what counts is a coherent, consistent, over-arching Brucknerian style – and there is nothing of the academic exercise about Schaller’s revision of the score.

Certainly the intensity of his purpose is apparent from the opening notes; it is decidedly driven and urgent but in no wise shorn of nobility thanks to the sonority of the orchestral playing, its glow splendidly caught by the Bavarian Radio engineers, its resonance and slight reverberation ever suggestive of the vast space of the Abteikirche without blurring detail. Gerd Schaller has always been strong on the articulation and transparency of orchestral texture and I love the power generated by the brass underscored by the strings of the Philharmonie Festiva in the chorales. The effect of these passages has apparently been enhanced by Schaller’s slight adjustment of dynamic balances to ensure that the brass do not overpower those strings, in line with what is believed to be Bruckner’s intention.

Casual listeners – can one listen to Bruckner “casually”, I wonder? – will not perhaps often be able to pinpoint how and where Schaller’s edition differs from Nowak’s but they will be conscious of how he has provided a new angle on Bruckner’s epic construct without in the least compromising its grandeur. The final, muttering bars are devoid of pity or pathos; they simply bring the curtain down on the preceding conflict.

The contrast between the thunderous outer sections of the Scherzo and delicate, shimmering Trio is marked, as if the latter were a momentary – but perhaps illusory – escape; this is no bucolic romp but rather a scary onslaught.

While I applaud Gerd Schaller’s rethinking of so much regarding the execution of this symphony, I readily admit that the propulsion and directness of his delivery of the Adagio present the greatest challenges here to my receptivity of it. It is nonetheless so confidently and beautifully played that I can suspend my predilection for a “slushier”, more sentimental approach, especially when “sunburst” moments such as the climax at 5:49 are so radiant. After all, Schaller is not rushing; he is simply following the main tempo marking of Feierlich langsam, doch nicht schleppend (Solemnly slow, but not dragging) and the only other markings in some editions are for accelerandi before climaxes: Etwas bewegter (Somewhat more animated), which I do not think Schaller does – and he certainly does not indulge in any rallentando. Does the great climax with crashing cymbal and thundering timpani at 16:44 deliver? I think so, even if I miss the more overt preparation of Old School conductors. The coda is decidedly gentle and serene, smiling and devoid of any numinous ambiguity.

The opening of the finale is simply terrific – hugely dramatic, in keeping with Schaller’s prevailing conception of the symphony, and that massive passion is sustained through to the thrilling coda.

As usual in this series, there is absolutely no indication that this is a recording of a live performance and as I remark above, the sound is exemplary.

As my friend and fellow Brucknerian devotee Ken Ward observed in his highly perceptive review of this live performance for Seen and Heard, “if you are wedded to performances of the stature of Karajan, Jochum, Giulini, Wand et al, Schaller’s take on this music will not be to your taste” – but I urge all admirers of this greatest of symphonies to hear it.

Ralph Moore

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