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| EMI (Full price) (CD) CDS7 54384-2 (two discs, nas: 83 minutes: DDD). Text and translation included. |
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| EMI (Full price) (CD) CDS7 54387-2 (two discs, nas: 113 minutes: DDD). Item marked a recorded at a performance in Suntory Hall, Tokyo on February 20th, 1991. |
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| Symphony No. 2—selected comparisons: |
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| LSO, Bernstein (12/86) CD42195 |
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| CBSO, Rattle (12/87) CDS7 47962-8 |
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| Philh, Klemperer (1/90) CDM7 69662-2 |
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| Symphony No. 9—selected comparisons: |
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| BPO, Karajan (7/84) 410 726-2GH2 |
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| Concertgebouw, Haitink (5/86) 416 466-2PH2 |
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| Concertgebouw, Bernstein (12/86) 419 208-2GH2 |
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| VPO, Abbado (8/88) 423 564-2GH2 |
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| BPO, Barbirolli (11/89) CDM7 63115-2 |
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First, a word on the performers. The Israeli composer and conductor Gary Bertini has an interesting pedigree for a Mahlerian. Born in Soviet Moldavia, he was educated in Milan and Paris, and, since 1983, has been Chief Conductor of the Cologne Radio Symphony Orchestra. The band is reasonably familiar to record buyers (it began taping this Mahler cycle in 1984) but should not be confused with its local rival, the Gurzenich-Orchester der Stadt Koln which flourished during the tenure of Gunter Wand (1946–75). Unusually, the present CDs include an artistic statement of intent: "Absolute fidelity to the score, clarity of sound, a relaxed-sounding structure and no addition of superfluous sentiment". Something may have been lost in the translation, but you catch the drift.
Accordingly, this is not the most earthshattering Resurrection symphony. Eschewing Bernstein's insistent mode of address (CBS), Tennstedt's sometimes mawkish emotionalism (EMI, 1/85—nla) and Rattle's sheer weight and concern for detail (EMI), Bertini's is a fresh, unaffected reading, lacking the heroic intensity usually considered de rigueur in this gargantuan work. The notes proudly refer to "the digitization of the signals coming from the microphones before they reach the mixing desk, so that they can be treated with a digital signal processor". Whatever the technology employed, the recording is warm and spacious with an appealing glow to flatter what sounds to be a rather small body of strings.
The first movement is lucid, often beautiful, yet oddly placid. Sticking to a steady basic pulse with the minimum of rubato, Bertini does not seem capable of generating and sustaining the right sort of tension. Only when approaching a climax does he permit tempos to fluctuate—sometimes wildly—at which point his grasp of the structure appears to slip. For those who worry about such things, the conductor's textual studies have not led him to emulate Rattle's slow and deliberate treatment of the descending staccato passage at the end of the movement. Bertini views the second movement as a restrained interlude, and his scherzo again moves swiftly, largely oblivious to the darker currents. The "Urlicht", on the other hand, is torpid, with no contrast in the middle section. Florence Quivar means well and she tries to push forward though her voice is imperfectly controlled and she communicates little of the text. The comparison with Dame Janet Baker (for Rattle and, especially, Bernstein) is cruel.
At the start of the finale, it sounds like Bertini has caught the orchestra napping. And if the movement as a whole shows the team on unreliable form, it's not altogether surprising given the unstable tempos. As the horns turn their bells up (track 5, 1'14" ff), the engineers turn the levels down. The off-stage brass is rather too distant (and at track 7, 4'35" ff painfully out-of-sync). The chorus is also somewhat recessed. Compare the impact of Rattle's "Bereite dich!". Instead of preparing us for eternal life, Bertini canters jauntily to the finishing line. The chorus is not loud enough in the closing peroration—unlike the obstreperous bells—and headphone listeners will be perplexed by what sounds like an edit at the most inopportune moment of all (track 10, 2'50"). With Klemperer's famous 79-minute studio account available from the same stable on one mid-price disc, Bertini's 83 minutes are scarcely competitive in this format.
There are several impressive one-disc EMI Ninths—Barbirolli's is a personal favourite despite some distinctly exploratory execution—and I was all set to dismiss Bertini's No. 9 on economic if not performance grounds. In the event, this live account proves surprisingly compelling. Again, those accustomed to Bernstein's extremist view (DG) may find the results distinctly prosaic, but this time Bertini knows what he's after and by and large engenders sufficient excitement without inconsistent speeds or awkward nuances. The Tokyo audience is reasonably silent for the most part and the recording (which need be less close-miked as a result) is first-rate.
In the first movement, Bertini's dispassionate approach works well enough without pummelling the deepest reaches of the soul. The inner movements fare better still, highly articulate and carefully balanced. In the second, the opening Landler section is contrasted with a hard-driven waltz. Even the risky Rondo-Burleske comes off, deft as well as gutsy, with a superbly raucous E flat clarinet and a daring fall from the oboe at 10'45" (which prompts a few coughs) before the sinister return of the scherzo. Only in the last movement does the forthright manner seem slightly at odds with the hymnic spirit of the score. Some of this music-making is simply too chirpy (e.g. the horns' jovial interjections at 10'32"). The closing pages are exquisitely hushed, yet somehow lack the spellbinding sense of eternal calm we expect from the very greatest performances.
Perhaps this is, as was once said in another context, "a Ninth to live with"; I can certainly imagine many listeners responding favourably to its slightly cushioned vision. That said, Haitink's ageing Concertgebouw account (Philips) takes a not dissimilar line to ultimately greater musical effect, and there is of course fierce competition from the more demonstrative concert tapings by Karajan and Abbado (both DG). Bernstein's live 1979 Berlin Philharmonic performance is reviewed on page 37.
Unlike some of these competitors, Bertini offers a bonus. The Adagio from the Tenth Symphony is a substantial makeweight, though I do prefer to hear this music properly edited in the context of Deryck Cooke's performing version. Heinz Sommer's note makes out a persuasive case for the opposite view, but I wonder how many readers would nowadays agree with him.
DSG