Schubert: Symphonies Nos. Unfinished" & The Great"

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The second piece of music in this episode is Franz Schubert's 7th Symphony, referred to as the 8th Symphony in the English-speaking world. Franz Schubert, on the other hand, was just 25 when he wrote two movements of a symphonic work in B-minor. He never returned to it, even though he lived another six years. Bostridge’s gift for finding the right manner for each song is exemplified in the contrast between the easy simplicity he brings to such apparently artless pieces as ‘Fischerweise’, ‘Frühlingsglaube’ and the less familiar ‘Im Haine’ (this a wondrous performance of a song that’s the very epitome of Schubert the melodist), and the depth of feeling found in ‘Erster Verlust’ (a properly intense reading), ‘Nacht und Traüme’, ‘Wandrers Nachtlied’ I and II, ‘Du bist die Ruh’ (so elevated in tone and style) and ‘Litanei’. Though Paul Lewis and Steven Osborne may not immediately appear stylistically empathetic artists, let us not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. In this repertoire they are as one, touch and tone indistinguishable from one another, playing with a delicious fluency and obvious affection. They open with the Allegro in A minor in a finely graded and characterised reading. To conclude, there is the great F minor Fantasie in which the incomparable opening is lent a hint of optimism, even jauntiness, before the subsequent journey to a pathetic conclusion.

Most of the part-songs here evoke some aspect of night, whether benevolent, romantic, transfigured or sinister. Between them they give a fair conspectus of Schubert’s achievement in the part-song genre, ranging from the mellifluous, Biedermeier Die Nacht, forerunner of many a Victorian glee, and the gently sensuous Gondel-fahrer to the eerie, harmonically visionary Grab und Mondand the brooding Gesang der Geister über den Wassern. Other highlights here include the alfresco Nachtgesang, with its quartet of echoing horns, Ständchen, a delicious nocturnal serenade, the austere, bardic Scott setting Coronach and the serenely luminous Nachthelle. I think he set this symphony aside because it wasn't what he actually wanted it to be. It's beautiful, it's quite an accomplishment, but it wasn't what he was looking for. He wanted to write something greater!" Herbert Blomstedt says. 'Four daughters' Lynne Dawson, Patricia Rozario, Christine Schäfer sops Ann Murray, Catherine Wyn-Rogers mezs Paul Agnew, John Mark Ainsley, Philip Langridge, Jamie MacDougall, Daniel Norman, Christoph Prégardien, Michael Schade, Toby Spence tens Simon Keenlyside, Maarten Koningsberger, Stephan Loges, Christopher Maltman, Stephen Varcoe bars Neal Davies, Michael George basses Graham Johnson pf London Schubert Chorale / Stephen Layton Over the years a mere handful of true basses, most famously Martti Talvela and Kurt Moll, have recorded Winterreise, none with complete success. For one thing, managing a deep, bulky voice tends to entail slow speeds, with a loss of Schubert’s gehende Bewegung, the walking motion crucial to several of the songs. Not here. Like Hotter before him, Rose can effectively soften and lighten his timbre, while he and his pianist partner Gary Matthewman choose their tempi discerningly. Only ‘Die Krähe’, the traveller’s strange, hallucinatory vision of an encircling crow, is controversially slow. But singer and pianist vindicate their choice with a performance of mesmeric intensity, the voice spinning a trance-like line against the keyboard’s eerily limpid cantabile. On we go, lulled and tormented by the magic music-box of ‘Frühlingstraum’, till the tragic chord before ‘so elend nicht’ in ‘Einsamkeit’ brings a dreadful reality into focus. The deceptive sweetness of ‘Die Krähe’, the giddy disorientation of ‘Letzte Hoffnung’, the subdued feverish excitements of ‘Täuschung’ find an almost holy stability in ‘Das Wirtshaus’, but still the external world exists, felt as almost an intrusion in ‘Mut’. And soon we meet the organ-grinder – and his secrets must on no account be revealed by reviewer or arts-gossip. The listener must wait, out of respect to this marvellous partnership of Mark Padmore and Paul Lewis, until time can be taken for it, alone and uninterrupted, to accompany them on the journey through to its unearthly end.Herbert Thorson Blomstedt ( Swedish: [ˈhæ̌rːbɛʈ ˈblʊ̌mːstɛt]; born 11 July 1927) is a Swedish conductor. [1] Great’ C major with the Gewandhaus Orchestra in 1839 leading to its becoming a great success and among the most popular Romantic symphonies. On balance, this is probably the finest, most consistent Schubert cycle available. It has flown “under the radar” for many years now, owing to the vagaries of distribution and availability of (then) East German recordings, but hopefully it will remain around long enough for music lovers to take notice. Herbert Blomstedt is one of those self-effacing conductors who never made much of splash, even during his tenure in San Francisco, where he did some outstanding work (his Sibelius cycle for Decca particularly). His approach here–lively but elastic tempos, affectionate phrasing in the slow movements, incisive rhythms, and translucent textures–works magnificently well, but the star of the show, equally, is the Staatskapelle Dresden. Whatever their chosen keys, parts of Winterreise lie uncomfortably low for many tenors and baritones. Rose can maintain quality and sonority over a wide compass. The rounded depth of his low register, allied to seemingly inexhaustible reserves of breath, are priceless assets in, say, the sombrely confiding ‘Ei Tränen, meine Tränen’ in ‘Gefrorne Tränen’, in the grand, arching lines of ‘Wasserflut’, and in ‘Der greise Kopf’, sung with Lear-like grizzled majesty. With no false histrionics, Rose makes the traveller’s moment of realisation ‘Wie weit noch bist zur Bahre’ – ‘How far it is still to the grave’ – as bleakly terrifying as I have heard.

Here is irrefutable proof of Arcadi Volodos’s genius and versatility. Naturally, lovers of long-cherished recordings by Schubertians of the stature of Schnabel, Kempff, Pollini and Brendel will hesitate, equating Volodos’s sheen and perfection with an external glory rather than an interior poetic truth. But such witnesses for the prosecution will find themselves silenced by an empathy with Schubert’s spirit so total that it would be extraordinary in a pianist of any age, let alone one still in his twenties. In the 1920s and 1930s, Artur Schnabel, and that too little known pianist Eduard Erdmann more or less single-handedly staged a revival of interest in Schubert's late piano sonatas. Alfred Brendel has recalled how Schnabel was perhaps the first pianist to give the A major Sonata, D959 its due, adding: ''Even today, his 1937 recording transmits the freshness of an exhilarating discovery''. Today, of course, we have a lengthening list of fine modern performances—from Brendel himself (Philips,2/89) as well as from such masters as Serkin (CBS, 10/90), Perahia (CBS, 8/88) and Pollini (DG, 4/88). The pioneering 1937 recording none the less retains a good deal of its old freshness and authority despite some occasionally fallible execution. Still, the Vienna Philharmonic — which does not have a music director or a principal conductor — also has a special place in Blomstedt's heart. He once compared these four orchestras to his four daughters: Each is differentand each is deeply loved.By any standards this is a fine cycle of Schubert’s symphonies, and is easily recommendable. There is a refreshing colour to the East German orchestra’s winds and brass which suits this music very well, though those completely allergic to vibrato may want to consider having a listen before taking the plunge. This is an aspect of the performance which is only a point of issue with solos of one kind or another, and within the entirely of the sound the balance and timbre of the sections is as well presented as you could want in an orchestral recording. Herbert Blomstedt’s interpretations allow Schubert’s inventive muse to shine through unencumbered by extra baggage, though they do not shy away from allowing the forward-looking elements and unique force of the best music from speaking with clarity and impact. The last piece in this Deutsche Welle Festival Concert features one of Blomstedt's special orchestras, the Staatskapelle Dresden, in a recording from 1984. The performance also features Dresden-born pianist Peter Rösel playing the first two movements from Karl Maria von Weber's Piano Concerto No. 1 in C-major. The concert was conducted by none other than The second movement is marked Andante con moto and Blomstedt’s presentation of the music shows how carefully he has thought about the tempo indication. So, we get a speed that accords to a comfortable walking pace and the ‘con moto’ aspect is respected so that the music always moves forward nicely. This pacing is such that Schubert’s melodic lines are allowed just the space that they need; there’s a real singing quality to this performance. That said, when Schubert calls for it, Blomstedt and his players invest the music with just the right degree of strength and determination (as, for example, between 8:03 and 8:40). The last couple of minutes in the movement are characterised by a lovely tranquillity. This is a wonderful account of the ‘Unfinished’ which held my attention from first note to last and which simply sounded ‘right’ in all respects.