Dimitri Shostakovich (1906-1975)
Symphony No. 8 op. 65 (1943)
Anton Bruckner (1824-1896)
Symphony No. 8 (Haas version) (1887)
Philharmonic Symphony Orchestra/Carlos Paita
rec. 1981-82, Kingsway Hall, London (Bruckner); unspecified location but live concert (Shostakovich)
Le Palais des Dégustateurs PDD036 [2 CDs: 129]

I understand that these esoteric readings of core major repertoire, when issued on vinyl in the 1980s, came out on Swiss Lodia: the conductor’s own label. The family of Carlos Paita are to be warmly congratulated for tracking down the masters from which the present recordings were drawn and issuing them on CD to a curious public. For once curiosity is rewarded with interpretations and recordings that are hoarsely exciting and dynamically charged; certainly I found that to be the case with the Bruckner.

Paita, who was born in Buenos Aires in 1932, seems to have effectively fallen into oblivion and remained thus until his death in Geneva in 2015, and beyond. Such phenomena are not unheard of: another name and reputation who fell into a similar if not identical oubliette was Loris Tjeknavorian.

Let’s start in the comparative foothills. Paita’s Shostakovich 8 is said to derive from a live performance. It’s strong and pungent but it does not have the studied rasp and glamour of the Bruckner 8. Incidentally there is no applause, and, it may be my inattention, but I did not hear any audience noise or shuffling ambience between movements. The first movement is nonetheless a long searing adagio.  You can certainly pick out all the dynamics from fff to ppp but where is the steel-honed edge? In the third movement the sound of the gong “cataclysm” at 6:05 is alive with impact. The sheer electric charge of the Bruckner is not to be found in Paita’s Shostakovich. By the way, we are not told the venue or exact date for the Shostakovich concert.

By contrast, Paita’s Bruckner 8 fairly flies along in the Robert Haas edition. Even so, to my ears, it sounds adroitly paced. Playing is elemental, especially from the brass benches and I say this whether the players are caught in full talon extended flight or in honeyed subtlety. The stereo spread will have you excited as it pointedly traces the hither and yon “bounce” of the quick second movement, where there are only a couple of points where progress felt a mite rushed. Front-to-back depth is also good. A grand auditory illusion; such an aspect adds depth, poignancy and adrenalin to the recording, which in this case is an event rather than an exercise. In the 21-minute finale the orchestra’s burred and humming magnificence is superbly caught. The bass has conviction and a naturally emphasised baritonal quality.

This Bruckner is on the “calculated” side but is not such as to deaden the heart’s response – on the contrary. The venue Kingsway Hall – a Decca/London “temple of sound” – only enhances the music’s attractions. I keep coming back to the sound which is of such pellucid resilience that you could, I am sure, transcribe the full score from hearing this recording. Every detail seems to stand proud: no blurring, no smog, no matte generalisation. Superb sound for a forty-plus years old recording. I will take a small risk and guarantee that having heard this disc once you will promptly play it again: either the whole thing or certain movements.

The Bruckner, for me is the signal selling point of this disc. It is startlingly good.

Robert Barnett