BBC: London SO/Simon Rattle. Revisit of Berlin transfigural pairing of Bruckner and Messiaen. Barbican. 07.03.14.

Transfiguration was apparently order for the day behind program first played under Simon Rattle recently instead by the Berlin Philharmonic. I have yet to hear transcript from that weekend of concerts, also pairing Olivier Messiaen’s winds and percussion scored Et Exspecto Ressurectionem and Anton Bruckner Ninth Symphony.

‘Et exspecto ressurectionem mortuorum’ (1964) represented (start to) phase of new simplicity for Messiaen – toward better refinement, distillation of applying his compositional techniques. Whereas the five movements to ‘Et exspecto’ are untitled, Biblical quotation is cited for each. Rattle was assured deep color from sax-horn player among LSO ranks to open the first movement (‘Out of the depths have I cried’ – Psalm. 130), plus dark, burnished sound from LSO brass. Climactic, multi-layered chords - series of which accumulate a formidable crescendo - got openly projected. All rang out upon high, but traversing lower registers, intonation and grasp of this music’s hieratic sentiments both became slightly compromised.

For the second movement (‘Christ, being raised from the dead’ – Romans 6:9) Rattle made jagged opening unison light melismae and then gilded exchange of monody between principal woodwinds – threatening to make line sag. Fifteen-unit Hindu rhythm, the Simhavikrama, received somewhat extra playful touch, without breaking toward being egregiously so – just enough to have one lightly question to what extent Rattle has internalized matters. For third movement (‘The hour is coming’ – John 5:29) a certain overt quality to the music-making again revealed perhaps putting at a distance mystical sense of death’s inevitability this music better simply conveys. LSO chimes carried a curiously metallic quality about then. Crescendo for full body of woodwinds got slightly rushed, as did (enhanced) crescendo on gong. Uriapuru (Amazon bird) song from concertato of winds received more natural enunciation.

Supple dance like step characterized the more multifaceted fourth movement - with antiphonal calibration between winds and (or answering) bells, cowbells. Chorale beneath in unison brass animated concertato well, providing good frame to the rest.
Higher winds succinctly profiled light tracing of calandra lark; Rattle’s hieratic framing of concluding slow stretto for full arsenal of winds, bright on top, also proved very satisfying. Finale (‘And I heard the voice of a great multitude’ (Revelation 19:6), alongside first movement to this, simple, offered well calibrated richly varied antiphony between six gongs underpinning well measured line from unison horns. Overtones, emerging from percussion below, enriched ability to grasp (or not) ideal experience of, sense of grandeur for concluding thoughts – toward all being able to fit very well.

For being so compressed a work, ‘Et exspecto’ holds formidable, significant perils for those who might take any of its gestural simplicity for granted. Rattle, for having invested some thought therein, came up with performance direct at feigning well simplicity paramount here - better than with two Messiaen full length works he has conducted in Berlin over the past decade. Work for smaller ensemble, of relatively modest proportions, ‘Et exspecto’ fits better Rattle’s capabilities engaging this corner of the repertoire; this was a good performance. Hardly any offense got committed here, but neither was there quite all there could have been toward making more distinctive sense of this unique composition.

What may eventually emerge remains elusive - Simon Rattle savored talking about there actually being (close to) a completed fourth movement to the Bruckner Ninth. This may be due to new unearthing of sketches mostly yet unseen for finale, putting things modestly, to be all but one-tenth of it intact - without massive intervention. According to Robert Simpson, that he noticed a generation ago lack of anything suggesting a coda among the sketches, it would be a daunting task to put one together - to what could perhaps still ultimately become Bruckner’s longest symphony. Good helping of skepticism still remains healthy. Rattle, interviewed, appealed to rhetorical safety net, to prudently proclaim Bruckner’s Ninth still complete, even with still only three movements.

One or two further issues come to mind. One is likely slight over-emphasis on likely the parlous state of Bruckner’s physical and mental state during time of composition. With masterpiece on this level, there are different perspectives from which to reckon it’s meaning overall – and without leaning Pirandellian here how to negotiate inner workings thereof. Quite frankly, a little more than both Robert Simpson and Simon Rattle may reckon, inclusive of considering the weirdness of numerous passages in the Ninth, here was a way too for Bruckner – who had to have been quite lucid to have written much of the Ninth so well – to have looked out far ahead of all about him. In the process, Bruckner achieved sonorities, as also Simpson cites, both out of the ordinary and indeed unique to himself. Even for a dying man, tormented by doubt, there is hardly anything more positive than to be doing this very thing. Simpson and Rattle do not altogether exclude such a consideration, but in part perhaps they do.

Warmly supported by his London Symphony players here, Rattle found within his grasp good sense of ebb and flow through much of this symphony, with almost always good notion of what direction overall the music is headed. Without bringing special attention to it, but especially notable for some of the most quiet, mysterious passages therein, the virtuosity of the LSO never left anybody in doubt.

Betraying moment or two of dull intonation from the strings, the first movement started off slightly tentatively. Moving into climactic crest to first theme group, Rattle began honing in on much detail in scaling proportions overall; at being so painstaking, he momentarily provoked several slips in ensemble. Element of mystery entered into better focus in making transition to sensitively molded, calibrated take on the sensuous second theme. Interweaving voicing became consistently febrile through varying interaction both times it appeared. Third theme group took about five or six measures to achieve good footing, and then relaxation with meandering subject, such as Bruckner conceived it, became very welcome.

Development or extended counterstatement (Essence of Bruckner - R Simpson) had Rattle cut moderately paced path through sequenced re-starts of motto chorale idea from early on, subtly expanding out its restatements. Yielding into transition to storm strewing reprise of first theme full climax, then out thereof was all very good, until moderately contrived, impetuous rush right before then lift added to terrible F Minor climax, weakening overall well grasped effect of coming off so wearily as happens next. For much wandering about through searching third group and building outcry of anguish alternating with despondent expression of resignation, Rattle lent a supple hand - all tight in focus toward ringing, magisterial conclusion.

Scherzo opening received deft, incisive pointing, but perhaps fastidious to extent this music’s demonic qualities, its stamping beat, got minimized - better this than making it chilly showcase of orchestral virtuosity. Letting loose at violent achievement of the minor dominant halfway through Rattle made intimidating, as he should; less maintaining rhythmic focus occurred two accelerandi Rattle too readily applied. Moderating rapid skip to open the Trio slightly minimized contrast from what preceded it; balancing for sighing consequent from the cellos though was scrupulous - supple allowing flute obbligato ample space toward making all his part speak expressively. Scherzo resumed on tighter rein than first time through. Recapture of some vehemence may have registered less assured than before, but all working toward most cumulative buildup finishing trek over much rough terrain.

Londoners then fluidly assisted Rattle in providing us eloquent, at times moving account of the Adagio finale. Watching 1978 video of Karajan doing the Ninth and then observing my notes on what Rattle gave it had me almost reckoning several very similar things to have transpired in both. Karajan, videotaped, definitely shows more involvement, engagement with this music than on cold studio recording made near the same time at Philharmonie in Berlin. With Karajan, one still somewhat picks up, live from Musikverein, a still near-obsessive need for control of sonority, to extent with Vienna of nearly smoothing out several of this music’s more striking dissonances.

Rattle – dry, matter-of-fact with Mahler Third Symphony Adagio very recently with Berlin - here from different angle, definitely provided more filling out. Two episodes midway through Bruckner Ninth Adagio, where one encounters striking cross-cutting sturm und drang between strings and brass, trumpets leading inversion in B Minor of introduction minor-ninth motif, and then where strings cut in on same motif midstream both got played thick to extent of missing optimum detachment of sonorities. Naively with Rattle, impetus of striving to get such right seems paramount. Still, Rattle, at whatever level of awareness, thereby made impression of holding this music out at slight distance removed - with what conflict to be engaged in a good several times during this Adagio.

Following instance, where violins and cellos exchange broad interval motif opening the Adagio, now over repeated hollow whole tone repeated interval in the winds, had strings flesh out deep angst infusing it all, with detachment of woodwinds underneath perfectly realized; Karajan muddies things by slurring the winds (with line headed nowhere). Steep climb was made to harrowing climax to resound forth.

Rattle waited for brightly entering trumpets, to achieve good focus to help open the Adagio Shape, focus to supple line, most everything, then became exemplary, sense of mysterious light infusing much - well before descending principal flute entering as though from afar to help make transition back to how the Adagio begins. Portamento then on yielding second subject sounded slightly applied from without. All carping aside, mostly for Rattle reckoning it aesthetic to apply distancing he has according to generally urbane sensibility expected, Rattle’s elegiac grasp of overall perspective was pleasing. If less than perfectly engaging of all proportions at stake. His Londoners here fluidly expressed, outlined majority thereof. Emotional simplicity, reserve of Rattle’s approach, if only thus far intermittently casting spells, ultimately most certainly did, as if to peer well over the horizon, toward locating fine resolve through this Adagio’s ebbing away - with principal horn’s quote of opening the Seventh eloquently making final say.

BBC: Urbane Mahler Third from Rattle - Philharmonie Berlin - 05.02.11

What makes what one might esteem a performance of Gustav Mahler’s longest, most epic symphony, the Third, great? Mahler spoke of purpose of writing a symphony to create (afresh) a new world. No symphony better epitomizes this than his grandiose paean to nature - the Third Symphony. Herbert von Karajan was rumored during the early 1980’s to be about to attempt the Third, around time of twice recording the Ninth. Claudio Abbado instead became first music director of the Berlin Philharmonic to have on disc done so. His DGG account, replacing considerably earlier Vienna PO recording (DGG), was less finicky about attempt to capture all detail in this piece. Although it captures line and eventually good sweep for the final Adagio very well, the depiction of this piece’s colors is grayer, in part toward effort to better preserve and sustain line. Even while still somewhat slow, it maintains momentum better than happened in Vienna.

From Simon Rattle, much elaborate pointing of detail, coloration, balancing critically inherent therein was beautiful, especially during the opening three movements. And yet at nodal points returning state of nature from ongoing thaw back to frozen stasis - one picked up, dry, matter-of-fact the nagging sense of there being little fortitude toward effectively steering all forward – Rattle here maintaining a moderately leisurely gait. One with Pierre Boulez expects clinical objectivity throughout, but with him one can discern, especially while working with an orchestra, ironically enough, more sympathetic than the Vienna Philharmonic, what he prioritizes is important.

With Simon Rattle, however, such is unclear; it even makes it tempting to start with the Third Symphony’s finale, for once, except that this Adagio is no better than just one of the two most important movements in this work, so also on Rattle’s behalf, I hesitate. One noticed less with Berlin than from City of Birmingham (EMI) pressing need to overtly scrupulize the weight of accenting, length of held notes between horns and lower strings to open the first movement. Intent seems quite serious both times; as things would then ease up, one could then likely reckon all this passé. Except for mild impetuosity to rush forward early on and through brass entrances closing this section, calibration between sections, marked by incisive trumpet motto here all made apt toward building a good somber landscape. Past first thaw, trombone arioso continued firmly, toward stabbing crest to its lines, all accenting underneath very supportive, with percussion especially expert at marking rhythms, articulation. Reach down to low D in the basses, well inhaled, exhaled emerged measured and full.

Anticipation of ‘Spring marching in’ achieved through strings’ fugato emerged with deft precision and supple line, promising much ease and character for march to follow. Amidst much beautifully limned detail, a lack of sweep and of swagger through marking like ‘Schwungvoll’ through then phlegmatically handled accenting subtly belied that all here still might be alive. Transition back to ‘frost’ was again dry - extra oomph off of which sounded artificial. It took descending string tremolo to recapture good scale and atmosphere - almost too late. For lovely vocalized trumpet and trombone solo, arioso, illusion of achieving atmosphere with fine depth, encompassing myriad detail, emerged well – through heavily sighing English horn helping capture moment of stillness on earlier Mahler derived ‘Weh’ motif. Bucolic mirth heartily infused ‘the Rabble’, followed by naturally rapidly hurtling forth Storm – through fussily accented, but still accurate percussion. Beautifully prepared trombone arioso turned out very fine. Ample scale and character then recapitulated ‘Spring marching in’ – all toward very festive, albeit slightly rushed conclusion.

Flowery minuet intermezzo, in which ideal is to go mostly weightless received deft, elfin touch - varying hued light shimmering through its textures and arabesque – nothing encumbering anything. If Rattle achieved unqualified success on any single movement of this, here it was. Tone from principal oboe was suavely dark - Berlin strings remaining behind, then filling all out through lush refrain – for all again to freshly emerge Bouyant spring,. Mendelssohnian, for trio sections was ideal, with gusty breeze intermittently coursing through – even through trio of freely accompanying flutter tongued flutes above. Weeping on lightly descending high winds into Minuet’s first reprise turned all childlike, naive. Artfully delayed picking up of pace, reinforcing oomph for second trio section refrain, provided moment of earthy vigor. Same device hardly worked well in Birmingham earlier. Equally fairy-land, helping close all this, was plaintive duet for concertmaster (Guy Bruanstein) and principal flute (Emmanuel Pahud).

Merry woodland frolic inauspiciously opened main scherzo. Plaintive higher winds congenially took turns singing ‘Ablosung in Sommer’, over accompanying bird call. Beethoven Fifth parodying trio emerged wittily robust - with panoply of trills springing forth off hard plucked pizzicati – strings during engaging scherzo reprise turning randy, mixed with brass toward - timed better than in Birmingham - the awkward brass octaves descending run – all sylvan then upcoming retreating violins, high winds. Slavic pomp surged off preceding klezmer accents - for coda framing opening first posthorn episode. Its manner of trailing in then seductively took over - haloed violins aloft, warmly replying horns ideal. Brief wistful interlude wafted by, anticipating gently breezy violins’ tremolo guided scherzo reprise - klezmer goaded violins and winds acridly in ‘irdisches Leben” mode then seizing center stage. Slippery trio section fugato reprise however de-tethered pushed transition into passing recall next of fine posthorn episode. Mysterious ‘Nature call’ from horns got rushed - violins above dry, pedantic. Leisurely gait coming off this was fine – fearful perhaps that more thrust toward closing strongly might emerge disproportionate to glib coasting by right before.

Hesitant to sit more still, Rattle began Nietzsche movement with quiet, steady pulsation, but nagging sense of shallow depth. Nathalie Stutzman, aspiring to light and covered tone simultaneously began hooty and flat, waiting for her ‘Gib acht’s’ to find better intonation. Expert Berlin principal oboe upward portamenti, from others often emerging as ungainly squawk, sounded here positively lyrical, expressive - perhaps not such a misguided restoration of tradition after all. Violins entered warmly over horns for interlude, albeit lacking some definition for their lines. More focused, Stutzman, horns accompanying her, beginning verse two, restored to this music at last some air of mystery. Until bearing down on ‘Ewigkeit’, Stutzman made more freely expressive what followed – rapt concertmaster Braunstein right behind. Rattle then slightly rushed fleeting postlude, closing this out. Light bells and chimes illumined the start of the fifth movement - boys and women expressively blending, harmonizing their lines well. Stutzman, until slightly choppy at very end, sounded darkly expressive, stoically, nobly penitential. Light trailing up to shimmering conclusion was very apt.

Berlin strings began hymnal Adagio - moderately paced – with fine solemnity and resonance. Off back-phrasing of consequent to opening lines, line almost gave out regaining antecedent thereof. Febrile lean upward was expressively made to start first episode, but ill advised then sudden switch to foreground for first violins - all affected, vertically episodic. Much extended tenuti over repeated long pitch back into first theme also sounded affected, threatening again to break up overall line. Gentle reach from behind to continue was fine, winds then repeating first theme better defined than the strings, then re-entering at fore too heavily italicized. Reprise from Berlin principal horn, concertmaster of episode introduced by oboes earlier gradually restored simplicity, capacity for line to breathe. Anguished climax on ‘Weh’ emerged well, but in context of much matter-of-fact, slightly layered on. D Minor reprise of once more recurring first movement climax did so stodgily. Pedantry characterized much of what remained – glib over how dynamics had been planned out.

What Mahler may have intended came across curiously urbane, cynical perhaps; return to being reliant on bad Romantic tradition might better fill out things than occurred here. Much well observed detail likely had found poor soil – a stubbornness to yield to innate quality and ability to sustain much long term at all.

The weightlessness of such Mahler appears, in eschewing notion of hearing overtones - sostenuto impetus expected to emanate – as more one arriving from a learned aestheticism than that of a neophyte. One thing should a BBC orchestra’s Mahler sound like this, but yet another should it be the Berlin Philharmonic Here seemed to have merged a British urbane reticence with a Semitic asceticism partly removed from its moorings – stoicism. angst informing Otto Klemperer’s distinctive Mahler most of all.

Plethora of detail masterfully calibrated into semblance of oneness from Rattle revealed an expertise that, working with Berlin, may only keep a handful of peers. It perhaps is very strong purist conceit to not be able to listen to music older than Brahms, barring adherence to historically informed, ‘period’ practices - denying that music should carry any (spiritually) transcendent quality. However with little to replace it, it could be said to be like attempt to find luminous the appeal of taking stroll down a Manchester or Liverpool road on a chilly gray day – to be satiated only by occasional ray of sunlight.

Might’ve we here not traded in one banality for something equally bland, milque-toast?

Met (NPR): Debussy's Pelleas - Miller production (revival) - through heavy naturalistic trudge under Simon Rattle (debut). New Year's Day.

With only so much experience in opera thus far, it seems that debut of Simon Rattle with the Metropolitan Opera has become long overdue. The Met granted him his choice of repertoire with which to make it; that choice is obvious. He had what on paper naturally would appear a good hand-picked cast with which to work, and among productions that originated during Volpe era at the Met, a good pick as well – by Jonathan Miller. Miller sets Pelleas during time it was written, the Belle Epoque era. Miller has gone further in making light of to abolishing altogether elements of mysticism that infuse Maeterlinck’s text, then some of Debussy too. Perhaps more controversially than anything else, Melisande is no longer the innocent waif, but even deliberately active forthright protagonist, perhaps driving it all, behind much action to take place,

One other irony is that wisest presence on Met stage for this appeared to be Golaud (Gerald Finley). Normally, we think of Golaud, as lone character in this abiding by classical reason or logic that in being trapped by all of what is phenomenal in his midst turns out at end of day to turn him into the most uncomprehending, least enlightened, basically most clueless among modest sized cast of characters populating Debussy’s opera. Simon Rattle, conducting a work he has conducted at Salzburg with the Berlin Philharmonic before, then two years later at Staatsoper with their own, Staatskapelle, instead – once same evening Barenboim conducted Schoenberg’s Pelleas with the Philharmonic. Stage direction at Staatsoper interestingly fell under aegis of being posthumous revival of ‘Grandma (Ruth Berghaus)’s’ production. At Salzburg however in 2006, the team that staged it there had initiates of Allemande in upright position, dressed as clowns, all facing front and failing to interact with one another. Rattle perhaps achieved the most responsive playing so far for Pelleas from Staatskapelle Berlin.

Rattle’s Met effort here sounded as though more of one piece than how has been described his outing with Pelleas at Salzburg five years ago. There by now certainly is some concept in mind, but what I would describe as still practically inscrutable. It is refreshing to hear Pelleas sometimes played unabashedly, unambiguously realistically direct, as one has already on disc in differing ways from Pierre Boulez and Claudio Abbado. Much in the way of wafting by, being least bit ambiguous or mysterious or implied to be in Debussy’s scoring goes mostly by the wayside here. Robert Wilson might be a more interesting choice of producer - with all its use of abstract lighting, graphics, slow choreographic gesture together with which for Rattle to work than Miller.

Rattle sought out of Debussy’s score its often full orchestral weight - development of musical argument along these lines. It was in this aspect of going about it that I fear Debussy’s score became something somewhat fleeting and elusive to Rattle – the more weighted down, the more elusive to maintain a strong grasp on it. Rattle continues most interested in bringing obvious darker undercurrents to Pelleas constantly to the fore; no doubt, on the other hand, doing Pelleas all svelte, misty, wispy, wafty is a distortion. This also proved the slowest Pelleas I have yet heard – clocking in at 171 or 172 minutes, not counting intermissions, applause, etc. Bernard Haitink, with Orchestre Nat’l de France, comes in, still quite slow, at 162. Here was a Pelleas almost along lines of late-career Knappertsbusch or Goodall - doubtful that either maestro ever conducted it.

Hi-Fidelity, reviewing the EMI Karajan Pelleas years ago, described it as more Maeterlinck, heavily allusive to Symbolism, than Debussy. It is likely the sveltest played Pelleas in modern sound - veering close to glutinous during this score’s most saturated writing, such as interlude almost midway through Act Four. Tempos are comparably very broad to on the still fairly recent Haitink (extending beyond it only by a minute).

Debussy however was, in adapting Maeterlinck, striving for realism, but defined along different parameters than the naturalism in vogue during his day. What more uninspiring can be turned into a libretto, in other words than a Theodore Dreiser novel? (And yet that has been, in terms of commission, been tried at the Met recently). I have also avoided on purpose listening to Nicholas Maw’s Sophie’s Choice - and have regretted time spent on Heggie’s Dead Man Walking I would rather admit accidentally stepping in than listening to again. For objectivity’s sake, it was worth one try.

When taking on Debussy’s Pelleas, to avoid giving it any slanted perspective, one has to judge for one’s self how subliminal or overt to reckon its dream-state. The Miller production has ditched this as just reckoning it further extension out of Romantic myth, cliché that in partly different way Debussy left behind too. With Pierre Boulez – preferable on his old Sony recording, not to demean the integrity of Peter Stein’s production on DGG – a crystalline percolated flow forthrightly conveys Pelleas’s realism.

The closest on disc to Rattle’s interpretation is likely Bernard Haitink (Naïve). What reticence, lumbering surfaces therein however occurs with overall line in perspective, and toward keeping all supple numerous openings out – acutely moving the rapt never motionless stillness (as informed by what surrounds the line) for Melisande’s gentle, fleeting oasis of ‘C’est que jet e regarde’ during love scene in Act Four - there being illusion of continuing motion underneath through overtones, memory – with all orchestral activity having ceased for one measure. Anne Sofie Von Otter, not lighter casting than Magadalena Kozena suggestively nuanced this; Kozena emitted a loud yawn through it.

What largely resulted for Rattle was in a still valid hybrid approach to interpreting Debussy’s Pelleas was more than the alert realism of the Boulez interpretation – not desirable that Rattle attempt himself – a stodgy naturalism even lopsided as such – more prose than poetry – perhaps mildly denigrating, demeaning what Jonathan Miller’s production, with expected meta-textual ironies all its own, might want most upfront to accomplish. In fact, for stretches of this under Rattle, all appeared to be prose. He best brought matters to life for more dramatic passages, such as the finale to Act Three – Act Three often better paced, granting also the Met orchestra opportunity to sink slightly more into what they were playing than earlier and/or elsewhere.

More glutionous in terms of weight than texture was Rattle’s approach. Dynamics tended to be generically loud, denying suggestive color contrast for such lines as Pelleas’s ‘Nous aurons un tempete’ along seaside near end of Act One and for Melisande’s ‘je ne suis pas heureuse’ ending central scene with Golaud during Act Two. Dramatically climactic moments at end of Act Three and during Act Four did not stand out as better than reticently violent from what had come before, for playing already having become too loud. Veering close to massaged solos by Nick Emmett for second interlude in Act One, and by Rafael Figueroa (cello) under sagging English horn right before pair of half-brothers entering caves in Act Three. Reticent poise inhibited making supple transitions during seaside closing scene to Act One and filling out Pelleas’s beautifully undulated ‘Je les nous’ – most relaxed moment during Tower scene opening Act Three – as though wary of compromising a more stolid stance having to prevail.

After making phlegmatic the subterranean portion of Act Three - of good cross-voicing among orchestral lower reached - Rattle made worked or pedantic re-emergence to daylight, then excessively scherzo-esque what animation to follow. Eventually the close to this scene, all slightly over a line to being stiffly detached, could have had one ask what Debussy might have plagiarized from Ferde Grofe’s Grand Canyon Suite – except for the Grofe having been composed later. Other seemingly contradictory gilding occurred elsewhere. Mystery was most curiously lacking for evocative interlude before grotto final scene to Act Two - from low bassoons’ iunison with cellos even through shimmering tremolo descent in divisi violins for effort within their playing showing.

Magdalena Kozena as coltish, but distraughtly restrained Melisande made nigh perfect devil’s advocate for keeping Rattle off his guard against his own lesser instincts – of stiffly, vaguely groping his way about Debussy’s Pelleas. Tone tended toward opaque, pressed near the break, compromising pitch and consistent with much getting placed back. Innocence of Melisande became gravely in doubt – if as free, driving agent through action of this Melisande can still make a good liar to Golaud – her pouted, grunted low D’s right after being queried while at Golaud’s bedside about issue Golaud thinks she might have regarding Pelleas. French pronunciation– occasionally with swallowed consonants, tended to be thick – except for welcome moments of relaxation vocally, mostly while in the company of Pelleas – and for Melisande’s chanson as well. Even several instances of ‘laissez-moi’’, similar therein resembled indicating hypothetical Monica Vitti take on Melisande instead of better, one plausibly halfway enamored of Pelleas. ‘Ouvrez la fenetre’s’ during Act Five got close to as heavily limned as good warnings earlier to Pelleas of Golaud approaching nearby.

Stephane Degout as Pelleas, genuinely French casting at last, was very nearly as well cast as half-brother for Gerald Finley. He most often infused with warmth his naturally baritonal timbre for Pelleas , even conveying something of mystery that, for so much wariness of abandoning reason for cliché, Rattle became prone, pedantic to eschew. Pushed quality to Met orchestra’s playing in driving passages – missing slightly what eroticism compels them – abetted well Degout following suit – and even misguidedly attempting to match timbre with that of Kozena a few times. The strain in doing so was obviously felt. Acting, with natural feel for musical idiom and text, and also for Pelleas’s sensitive prudence in regards to threat about, was most realistic and believable. Degout cut an altogether handsome, likable figure as Pelleas - with much oppressively hardened all about overtaking the usually hazier gloom, hint, hint, cliché, of Debussy’s inspiration. Freely achieved top during Tower scene was most refreshing to hear.

Gerald Finley made highly credible a perplexed Golaud, making beautifully limned contrast between Golaud’s sensitive qualities, including befuddlement while interacting with Yniold in Act Three and guarded manner toward allowing jealous suspicions to overtake Golaud too early, and his aggression. Here was a definitively complete interpretation, not yet exceeded (or matched) by anything else this Met season thus far. The right snarl, incisive French and force for violent declamation came all forward, yet as compelled from within. Over slightly jerky accompanying from Rattle, Golaud’s imploring to Melisande for some reckoning, greater understanding as always to be beyond Golaud’s grasp, was deeply moving. Finley’s free top – for instance for ‘la joie’ toward end of scene in Act Two – revealed o youthful perspective to still be within Finley’s grasp- not lost yet starting in on heavier repertoire – toward as more easily Balstrode for English National Opera to win sympathy than Golaud. We have today, add Laurent Naouri, two Golaud’s sharing mantle belonging before to Jose Van Dam.

Veteran mezzo Felicity Palmer (Genevieve) with beautifully pointed, insinuated French, Paul Corona (Shepherd/Doctor) and after a throaty start Neel Ram Nagarajan (Yniold) hardly less, made for an altogether first-rate supporting cast – Rattle’s forceful not fortissimo marked but played pizzicato to open Yniold’s scene – yielding soon thereafter to better flexibility – not to unduly distract Nagarajan.

Former Golaud, even sounding intermittently like a second one on stage - long time colleague, close friend with Rattle - was Willard White to return to the Met (and Miller production) as Arkel. White fully conveyed fine dignity, wise forbearance, gravitas, and mystical lift to Arkel. Lack of mystery to Met brass underneath, for Rattle’s insistence on projecting forward Debussy’s sonorities, accompanying Arkel’s opening lines was enigmatic. Rattle’s sincerity could hardly be in doubt, especially at such a moment in this, so it was frustrating it was to figure out what it might be he wanted here.

White became taxed with some of Rattle’s slow pacing – as to sustain line, tone very well making awkwardly diphthongal some of his French. His easier lines to practically calmly bring Act Five to a close got drawn out to vocally relaxed Gurnemanz scaled proportions, practically making full epilogue out of all left to unfold, enlighten us once Melisande has mysteriously slipped away, then for remainder of long – the slowest Pelleas until now? - New Year’s afternoon quietly slipping away thereafter.

Comments dedicated to Dr. Jong-Wook Yu.

BBC Proms 2010: Proms 66 and 67. Berlin Philharmonic, Simon Rattle. Karita Mattila ravishing for Strauss Four Last Songs.

Prom 66. Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. Sir Simon Rattle. Royal Albert Hall, London. September 3, 2010.

Way to open symphony reminiscent of one previous is how the Mahler First Symphony begins – only vaguely referring back to start to the Beethoven Fourth. Opening to the Beethoven, even given its enlightened classicism is particularly mysterious - sounding most likely to introduce some thorough philosophical conceit into the mix. The irony is that what follows in the Mahler First – comparatively naive opening so evocative of Nature, gradual awakening of it all - prefigures more along philosophical lines than on the surface does the rest of the Beethoven. There is an elusive beauty about the Beethoven Fourth - the simplicity of design, even a turned inward quality that makes it more complex organism than it appears – so deceptively simple at its surface.

One writer attending this mentioned much fussiness on Rattle’s part at interpreting these two symphonies. If anything, here was a greater flexibility, subtler limning of detail from within, making the Beethoven Fourth a more thorough experience than achieved on disc before with the Vienna Philharmonic – disc that had the more overt 'period' accents, drier quality, etc. One might speculate that it might be some new found liberty on Rattle's part to relax his quasi-'period' approach to Beethoven to include therein nuance to more appreciably articulate the formal and expressive content of this music. It is certainly appreciable for Rattle to have made this kind of shift that in having developed doing so seemed quite the opposite of fussy or mettlesome instead.

Deeply expressive again, as on EMI, was the introduction to the first movement, with slightly warmer sonority from the strings of Berlin. Sense of groping one's way through several remote harmonic transitions was just about equally acute between both - both equally suggestive of so much else - for us to fill in the blanks what the rest may be. Rattle made bracing the opening to the Allegro vivace both times, but gracefully then yielded onrush through it all to make suppler rubato here into first movement's second subject. Line, with accenting beautifully placed in context of all else, through the Development, was free and secure - most expressive on turn of phrase where it counts. Ease into making well proportioned retransition also contributed to Rattle's success here. It was only with approach to brief coda to the first movement that playing momentarily sounded under threat of becoming congested.

The Adagio here opened less assuredly, with Rattle's marking of dotted rhythm accompaniment to flaccid assumption of opening melodic line all phlegmatic, until winds repeated it. Rattle then pulled in firm the louder reprise of introducing accompaniment, followed by winds singing freely the Adagio’s opening theme. Approach to very lyrically played second theme on clarinet was gently spacious, but also as to point one’s view toward gradually increasing sense of agitation under the music’s surface. Phlegmatic handling of the tutti during the Development contrasted with pensive, hardly self-conscious spelling out of lightly scored completion of approaching reprise of the first theme and then a practically Italianate, vocalized spinning out of melodic line in the violins off broadly approached arpeggios from lower strings. Militaristic accents, culminating in menacing drum roll to frame final cadence made incipiently arousing to dissent, rebellion of sorts afoot even here.

The Scherzo here began rushed, almost clipped, but fortunately less conspicuously so than on EMI. Such healthy thrust in and of itself is of course much within character of essentially a sped-up minuet with from the get-go plentiful misplaced accenting. Rattle made amply spacious the antiphony of broad spelling of diminished chords to expressive effect. Trio section, with enhancing contrast of swagger with cadential dotted rhythms, was warm and especially from among fully cantabile Berlin winds.

In comparison with the more doctrinaire relentless pace with perpetuum mobile of a finale with the Viennese, Rattle within venture of slightly rethinking what he had achieved before, did not undercut a constantly running pulsation to it by opening things out here. Less intimidating then was the less frantic pace for principal basson reprise of opening statement in Berlin than in Vienna. As recidivist as it may sound, the graceful shaping, limning of the finale's second theme sounded remindful of Beecham - of what he had in his interpretative arsenal by way of graceful turn of phrase to apply to his Beethoven. Thorough capture of internal accenting on closing theme continued buoyant and free - with insinuating subversive or revolutionary accent underneath - attempt for this music to break its bounds never much distance away.

That Watteau-esque coloring of how the Mahler First opened got caught very mildly self-conscious would have one not mistake this playing for Concertgebouw - as under Haitink several decades ago. Tempo was broad for much of the first movement - stillness of all to the symphony's opening very rapt; long breathed retransition in place of Development later brought all intensely close to a standstill while keeping anticipation alive of overt frolic to come - heralded with fine clarity here by consort of French horns.

'Ging heut morgen', once picked up by the violins, let all sunlight in - after purposefully groping long ascent toward it to close the Introduction. Pointing of small accenting in the Development and elsewhere sounded just like world as easily captured in Webern's Im Sommerwind as in any Mahler. Introduction of darker accents foreshadowing drama to follow later entered guilelessly, bucolically from there. Buildup to far reach from behind for change to blazing D Major, fortunately without turbo-charging either anticipation or arrival made for ensuing strongly characterized merriment all the way through too frequently odd sounding ending to the first movement.

Rattle then effectively worked into the opulence of the tone of his Berliners fully achieved charge of earthiness into the Scherzo that made shaping of it most natural with no exaggerated dynamics - even while slightly tentative on a few downbeats here - as opposed to turbo-charged rewrite of Beethoven 7 the Development section so often resembles. For a true stickler, Rattle might have seemed free with Mahler's tempo markings, subtle relationships therein; little there was to interfere with genuinely ardent, while lingering, feel to this. Even with some gratuitous italicization, vigorous reprise brought the Scherzo to a cumulatively, earthily robust conclusion.

Solo double-bass on minor mode Frere Jacques played it vibrato-less for so very ruddy a sound, even at minor cost to intonation. All klezmer, even unabashedly from ultra-gilded violins was then made of wind band march. Violins then drooped naively, wearily in making transition back. Mildly self-conscious was very covered handling of start to lyrical episode quoting concluding part of the fourth Gesellen lied, before soon inviting back feeling for the naïve simplicity of it all. Quite convincingly, if dryly characterized was a relatively acrid odour to all air about with reprise of 'Frere Jacques' raised a half-step - as to somberly recall 'der irdisches Leben' – from instead the Wunderhorn lieder. Besotted toned bassoon helped bring all to its dour, mildly somber end.

Pacing of agitated opening to the finale sounded here mildly held back, with direct feel for accenting this music achieved, if anti-climactically with arrival of Exposition first theme. The most trouble encountered here thus far came with anticipation of episode thematically borrowing from musing over the death of Abel near end of the first part of 'Klagende Lied.’ Rattle then chose to layer things on thick. There was the haloed quality with the strings to sustain main idea through this passage, but naivete of such reminiscence oddly got almost entirely eradicated. Zuruckhaltend to achieve Mahler's practically vocalized opulent approach to final cadence here became unfeasible. Transition back to music indicative of how the finale opens was slightly glib; eschewing wisely however the making too much of the two dramatic transitions to follow was welcome, toward saving up for greater to come.

Obtrusive holding back then recurred until stealthy reprise of march strands from the first movement brought all bucolically back to life – working toward festive, bright, never overstated conclusion. If mind intermittently got led to wander during the finale, this Mahler First still turned out a very fine qualified success – so refreshing to encounter such a frequently engaging approach to very familiar terrain.

Prom 67. Berlin Philharmonic. Sir Simon Rattle. Guy Braunstein (leader). Karita Mattila. Royal Albert Hall, London. September 4, 2010.
Central to this Prom was the generous heap of short character pieces one set each from Arnold Schoenberg and his two disciples. As Simon Rattle has said, one does hear with immediacy how moments from each set of pieces comment on those from other sets so frequently. Complete appreciation of especially Alban Berg’s Three Pieces would be to reckon it alone as complete - chock full of content as any Mahler symphony – as opposed to making mammoth opus out of practically too much.

Sandwiching Anton Webern’s Opus 6 pieces between Schoenberg and Berg made them seem shorter than they are. How much more their character, all well played here, would speak, should this set be played between stylistically contrasting works instead. All three sets of pieces presented were written at height of Expressionist phase for the Second Vienna School – whereas there was considerable variety of form and idiom in which all three men wrote. All fourteen pieces given in one long haul offers ‘atonal’ expressionism at its peak at level of concentrate. Trespass however of unwritten limit on amount musicians and audience members can partake will dilute what can be processed thereof - even with fastidious effort put forth here.

The oxymoron is that with an urbane quality already characterizing Simon Rattle’s music-making, presenting so much together here provided cover. The edge of hearing the dissonance in this music has diminished over time, yet it is best within logical constraints to make the most of it. Most certainly the fragmentation one encounters here is unlike anything before, yet anticipated in the music of Johannes Brahms. One virtue of hearing Schoenberg from a recidivist perspective is in how doing so can severely undercut deceptive notion that this music is atonal. This was most evident during ‘Das obligate rezitativ’ (fifth piece), but at cost of smoothing out some of the hard edges one still should run up against. Stern brass made implacable presence felt toward its conclusion, but with Interweaving arioso among various solo instruments hearkening back to the late period chamber music of Brahms – his manifold extensions over the bar line, overlapping each other at times therein.

Lack of urgency for cellos’ thrusting motif somewhat held things back for ‘Premonitions’, starting Schoenberg’s Five Pieces, Opus 16. Oboe descent to low trill gave off more droll irony than agitation, alongside dour low intoning from trombones, all making interesting take on starting things off. Lightly played, almost clipped figuration in flutes sounded though like a combination of being shirked off and merely decorative instead of part of cumulative spinning into the overall maelstrom of the first piece. Much the same held true for similar incidence during ‘Peripetie’ (fourth piece). Brass made oppressive, stern their marcia collation of several motifs – big recapitulatory moment in Berg’s ‘Marsch later to recall it. Testament to the virtuosity of the Berlin PO, the placed back audibility of violins’ ostinati behind loud brass was very compelling.

Simon Rattle picked up on fleeting introspection from solo clarinet early during Peripetie’ more than on making full throttle of very jagged strands of activity starting it. Rapid fire antiphony among strings, pointed by their upward swooping portamenti and equally fast repeat-note tremolo in the trumpets made for good violent end to ‘Peripetie’ - muted brass chorale framing all forebodingly.

Individual pointing of sonorities, colors of various instruments, starting with distraught solo cello on framing motif in ‘Vergangenes’ (second piece) toward continuing line through unison clarinet and English horn, was very compelling for the two slower pieces. One acutely heard the special trading off of individually pitched resonances between well varied instrumentation to start off ‘Farben’ (Colours). Intertwining voicing between winds, violins, and muted trumpet made very subtly elaborate chamber music out of the second episode of ‘Vergangenes.’ This piece however exposed the risk of assembling together so many pieces of such acute character. Emphasized during ‘free atonal’ Schoenberg are ostinati, other figuration that break in upon the overall discourse, thoroughly interrupt it, and can also distinctively hold all still momentarily - events Michael Cherlin characterized as ‘time shards.’

Having all fourteen pieces presented as odd continuum of sorts can deny individual profile to so many of such events tucked within many of these pieces – with it so acutely brief how they appear in Webern. One needs neither to enhance much nor deny what nuance is marked therein. Very minute off-beats in mostly lower instruments intrusive upon the stillness of ‘Farben’, on the other hand, needed a little more space to resonate, whereby they better insinuate all at state of verging on virtual collapse - Rattle’s pacing of ‘Farben’, to capture its diaphanous stillness, was still circumspect.

Webern’s Opus 6 pieces opened tentatively - issue being balancing the abrupt first piece’s urgent impetus with its delicate sonorities. The second piece, marked very soft, also got smoothed out, but with wide-spaced tuba line and cry high in flutes both very expressive and anchoring opening statements in a piece lasting less than two minutes. Rattle self-consciously scrupulized figuration through arched, belabored crescendos close to midway through and ending the second piece. Rattle phlegmatically indulged reach for stretto therein with unmarked allargando; the piece’s conclusion also needed greater vehemence. After delicately tracing the klangfarbenmelodie third piece, Rattle honed in on dramatic, very measured tread of the fourth - with how lower brass made their first entrance through tight engagement upward through trumpets - through subtly placed, varied percussion for buildup to its shattering conclusion.

The fifth piece got off to the best start thus far in the Webern with pianissimo, deep, close interval lament in the horn creating illusion of vast, empty space- with tightly focused pianissimo shuddering about in lower strings to enhance the effect. Leader Guy Braunstein’s flautando very high over winds placed far back, over low pedal in solo contrabass was particularly eerie. English horn recitative spoke eloquently over steady ostinato in low harp - followed by solo viola on free inversion to echo the recitative on English horn. Dark, measured briefly passing shard of ostinato in harp offset chords in celesta over deep pedal far back for a veritably remote, ascetic end to Webern’s Opus 6.
Hubbub informing middle period Mahler and Berg’s Opus 6, reflecting the instability of pre-war Vienna suits Simon Rattle the cosmopolite well. Impetus toward conserving energy however persisted through the Berg. Grandeur of this work is such with which the often formally astute Rattle found himself at ease - other than for thickly orchestrated fury midway through Marsch fazing both him and members of his orchestra.

Praludium began restively on combined pitched, un-pitched percussion. Curiously, Rattle, settling in, secured some feel of voice leading, accumulated well in Berg’s scoring, for repeated sustained concert E-Flat in solo trombone (marked pianissimo) that perhaps should remain for sake of its character, detached from what immediately precedes it. Supple feeling for the vast scale of even this piece led to Rattle lingering over somewhat extended arioso through strings and imitative winds in anticipation of a cumulatively achieved high C. Rattle pointed well the dotted rhythm conclusion to each strand of arioso, yet within a mildly broad, less specific handling of each. Doom-laden, highly remorseful brief descending triplets in brass and dissembling rustle of string tremoli made this piece’s conclusion evocative, foreboding.

'Reigen' (Round) featured spectrally lit shimmer through wind and violin tremolo, fine lilt to its waltz rhythms, and fine pointing of detail. And yet into the first waltz refrain one noticed air of overconfidence about. There was suitable flexibility in drawing insinuation of jazz out of the brass under rhetorically anguished strings right after still episode, marked by elaborate harp glissandos. Sustenance of tension, as in many performances of this, got compromised, through trumpet paraphrase - against enormous aggregate of activity - of earlier line in the violins (just past light string tremolo marked breather for remainder of the orchestra). Harshly brilliant descending flute tremoli against dour low brass, gratuitously enveloped, sounded assured; due to some fussiness with nuance however, the febrile line that courses through all this became slightly detached – in mind of effectively shimmering conclusion to ‘Reigen.’

The fearsome Marsch though started off quite tentatively– especially with Mahlerian trilling horns polite. Besotted quality for second, most prominent instance of this was polite again - along with carefully approached crazy offbeat swooping, lunging about from full body of divided violins to follow trilling horn accented restart of the introduction Delicate, lyrical passages received much warm response. Contrastingly, the mechanical accenting of ominously militaristic strut - complete through like-minded antiphonal response - got its full due. Healthy push for the quasi-recapitulatory statement in Marsch conventionally compensated for dense thicket to follow - until very close to effectively dissembling hammer stroke two-thirds through. Rattle, supported by determined playing, still pointed the most important accents through overheated struggle of it all.

Intimation of wide shudder across blood-stained lake - ahead in Wozzeck – was stirring, but grandiosely enunciated trombone obbligato - oblique reference back to the Schoenberg - sounded curiously detached from hazardous transition to immediately prepare it. Incisive hammer stroke cut off well executed final stretto, to sum up broad, sweep through pre-war character pieces from path-breaking triumvirate of Vienna.

Indecisive earlier sounded the Act One Prelude to Wagner’s Parsifal. Good estimation of diaphanous sound world Wagner envisioned, dryly achieved, still spoke forth. Mention got made over BBC of ‘orchestra without feet’ that Debussy might have sought as an ideal. With hall acoustic also likely to blame, some drawing upon overtones to support how this music should float felt minimized. Key motifs exchanged between instruments, sections carried merely adequate profile toward building any unifying concept - toward making clear any connecting line through this.
Simon Rattle made sense of translucent textures accompanying Strauss’s Four Last Songs while leaving some of the animation, agitation to fill things out, make for better contrast than for all to merely get smoothed out. Unusually convincing was his very slow tempo for the final “Im Abendrot.” Warmly supportive of Karita Mattila, all opened out once she started singing. The voice, with occasional dead spot, slight hollowness now hardly at all stood in her way here. In reaching high notes, she sounded slightly careful at approaching handful of them, but most of them still freely opened out, pleasantly so. What made this song cycle a real experience was the intensity she invested in its text.

I think back once more to Evelyn Lear’s Marschallin – available to hear again on Philips - the voice a bit worn but how she allocated what remained to wisely, pensively make matter what really counts – the words. Mattila possesses more instrument than mid-70’s Lear – note the abandon with which she can still invest her lines – remindful of when vocally at her peak just several years ago. In an ideal world, one could see Mattila take on the Marschallin, let’s say opposite Christianne Stotijn as Octavian – then for the two to swap parts for two nights during the run Mattila could probably still handle doing so.

The words here selflessly became ultimate raison d’etre, through all very effectively sustained line, flow of air throughout. Most moving was a practically erotic yearning to it all, a reach for the refreshment that taking, inhaling in so much provides – yet with taint of mild self-reproach, and deeply calm a resignation to what mysterious inevitably lies ahead. Note the somewhat straight tone, but as beseechingly deep from within Mattila invested her closing lines to ‘Im Abendrot.’ Even, acknowledged already, in the more heavily taken first song, ‘Fruhling’, one could catch Mattila’s lightly floated ‘Vogelsang’ concluding one line, and then her impassioned reach for glittering’ high B through ‘Nun liegt der erschlossen,’ - none of this merely for effect.

Very poetic, in ‘September’, was Mattila’s limning of the stirring contrast, imaginatively anticipated, between a brightly colored ‘Sommer lachelt’ and heavily wistful ‘sterbenden Gartentraum’ at end of one stanza. Such tug of d yearning very poignantly, insinuated, confided so very much. We have all heard Four Last Songs in fresher voice, but seldom is it to experience these so lived, so personal as to take us places we think we dare not tread in happening upon so sacrosanct, valedictory a work. Rattle was with her every step of the way toward making all sublime.

BBC - CBSO Birmingham: Harrowing memorial Bach's St Matthew Passion - Simon Rattle, C Gerhaber, C Tilling, M Padmore, T Quasthoff - 06.03.10

Performances of music from before time of Beethoven have frequently been taken over by the authentic performance practice movement - long by now called ‘period’ for short. Linear clarity for Bach choral music (i.e. for interwoven lines for winds through body of strings), intimacy of feeling, and clear exposure of what feeling gets invested all are positive results. Such exposure is assured in place of the padding the old Romantic sonorities of the past sometimes provided in their stead.

There is also however in ‘period’ risk of quickly becoming smug and accepting new tradition just as deleterious, deadly to performing Bach as old ways may have been. There is still not any getting around considerations of form, good rhythm, and valid expression as to what should happen, especially considering something like St Matthew Passion. When is however the last time you have felt urge to pull out the Solti, Bernstein, or if such exists, version sung by Mormon Tabernacle Choir?

It is always highly anticipated for Simon Rattle to re-appear at site of his old day job, Symphony Hall in Birmingham, thanks to his many years there before. For event at hand to have been dubbed ‘Rattle’s Bach’ however rings false; calling it that does not give Sir Simon ultimately credit for much. If one sought something uniquely Rattle’s own, one must have left disappointed. That fortunately was not modus operandi or impetus toward what happened here; the utter necessity with which Simon Rattle infused so much of performing St Matthew Passion just simply spoke for itself.

If there was musically some message to Rattle’s interpreting St Matthew Passion, it was of consolidation. There were obviously large choral forces on stage, two hundred and forty, including fifty children – part of very fine accessory to the City of Birmingham SO chorus. This so well drew somewhat too from the good old bad Romantic past - to underscore, as stated in interview, equally 'period' important theological underpinnings to what Bach wrote; much musical 'period' conscientiousness on part of Rattle and all the rest certainly played into this as well. Pardoning occasional oversights, Rattle and company found good qualified success here.

The project of doing the St Matthew Passion moves on to Berlin, where it is joined by semi-staging of sorts by Peter Sellars. This will be curious - an experience I hope not attempted to be abetted by Mark Morris choreography or gimmicks along such lines so obviously American vernacular as that. It was hard to tell without having been there what diluted or dilated the expressive impact of hearing a W Meier/Heppner Tristan und Isolde, whether the Bill Viola videos Sellars employed, or just all-purpose bland conducting by Esa-Pekka Salonen – to be getting off-topic momentarily.

Listening to Part One of Herbert von Karajan’s 1972 DGG Matthew Passion, the opening chorus “Kommt, ihr Tochter’ especially, made me think of Brahms – without my being reminded of what Harnoncourt said about old Bach performances. Harnoncourt’s second or third take on the Matthew for Teldec with adults singing all the solo parts is certainly mildly recidivist in including a few suspicious Brahmsian accents. The affectation of childlike voice by Christine Schafer is annoyingly just that, in an early soprano aria - Dorothea Roschmann hardly less culpable. Next to Ann Monoyios and Barbara Bonney for John Eliot Gardiner, (Anne Sofie von Otter, mezzo for Gardiner on nearly as bad behavior), Schafer and Roschmann seem more out of place than to have sung it for John Eliot Gardiner on his highly overrated recording. Several arias on Gardiner give off coyness, bathos better fitting ‘Summer of ’42 or ‘Love Story’ than it does Bach. Among period recordings, my favorite remains the path-breaking 1970 Harnoncourt (Teldec).

Rattle’s ‘Kommt, ihr Tochter’ will most likely further tighten with time and several more chances at it. It got the evening off slightly tentatively. There was indeed here a hint of Brahmsian hemiola within the choral lines, and also a little clumsiness in differentiating accenting between the two choruses - between sections of divided double chorus on stage. There was also here some sway to the forward motion, but fortunately without losing sight of goal as to where the musical line is going or its expressive agenda but intermittently. Rattle then took the final chorale chorus ‘O Mensch bewein’ of Part One breezily. It lacked what expressive freedom, even for chance to make some use of rubato Rattle could have instead invested therein

One anticipates depiction of greater suffering upon hearing ‘O Mensch bewein.” The quite rapid stepwise motion in dyads in the violins, when taken quickly, should not have us entirely as far down the line psychologically as the invitations from solo voices toward end of Part Two - in mind of the benefits of the finished work on the Cross - so soon. There are still other things to take into consideration here. Rattle was not quite so two-dimensional as to thoroughly ignore the line in the lower choral parts in effect halting or holding back forward motion. Such writing eloquently speaks of Man’s responsibility for the Cross, in gentle, but still quite stern admonition to close Part One. Certainly this performance of the lengthy Gethsamane portion of Part One that had just passed was powerfully effective so that time for some balm with ‘O Mensch, bewein’ had arrived.

Once into opening sequence of events, to which ‘Kommt ihr Tochter’ is prologue (and also parenthetical glimpse into sequence of events near crucifixion), things started going for Simon Rattle et al alarmingly well – through interchange of recitatives, arias, dialogues, chorales, turbae, etc. Mark Padmore was the sweet-toned, but always directly expressive Evangelist, giving his lines the right immediacy of feeling, emotion called for. He discreetly judged - gauging things at every point - at how much distance to how involved he should divest of this great narrative to us. His work here also showed very fine growth in vocal and expressive maturity in singing this, compared with his attempts at Evangelist in also the St. John ten years earlier. Those lines calling for pause for introspection he did so here with nary a hint of self-consciousness. This was a sterling performance certainly going the distance toward defining standard for performing this part. His sweetness of tone for making several reaches over the crest of his lines, where not to be incisive, beguilingly increased involvement in the narrative.

Christian Gerhaber was hardly less fine as the Christus, if next to Padmore intermittently self-conscious about his assignment. Word emphasis, with certainly near as much flexibility rhetorically as Padmore, was paramount, even through Last Supper arioso, without hectoring or excessively breaking up the line for the latter – nothing cloying to any of it. Most telling was his draining of all vibrato from his sound, unconventionally so, for harrowing line at Gethsemane where Jesus speaks of His great heaviness of spirit. This moment, unwittingly or not, brought to mind similar recourse to such for two particular lines as Faust for Metzmacher in Schumann a week earlier in Berlin. Without help of any props, the mostly soft-grained voice of Gerhaber supplied Christ with all fitting poise, dignity, reserve. Though he employed a little distancing of the text he was singing at times, he also conveyed doting care we expect of his lines for his disciples, mankind, even for those who deny or victimize who is portrayed here. Gerhaber’s tone of despondent resignation for accepting what lay before Christ was very moving.

With voice of perfect melos, Camilla Tilling proved very fine as soprano soloist – very occasional unsteadiness at the break aside. Her brief portrayals of Pilate’s Wife and maiden deriding Peter’s hasty denials sounded incipiently tense, incisive, respectively. That in the wrong hands can easily turn into ‘Summer of ’42 bathos (with bassetchen accompaniment – i.e. bass line in the treble register), ‘Aus Liebe’ accompanied by solo flute and oboes made for utter paragon of beseeching simplicity. Infusion of vibrato into long cantilena and withdrawal of such for darker sound was both subtle and supple as best served the text. In spirit of desolation, it uniquely conveys, captured so well here, the great love of Christ, His motivation for going to the Cross. Tilling, also notably very well played the Angel in Messiaen’s St Francois d’Assissi for Metzmacher in Holland two years ago. The innocence, direct simplicity with which she sang “Ich will dir meine Herze’ with very fine oboe obbligato was also ideal. Her flexible darkening of tone to match Kozena for dialogue with chorus near end of Part One beautifully enhanced this passage – close to as lightly accompanied as ‘Aus Liebe.’. No less than with any of the rest, the fugato turba that followed sounded forthrightly decisive, in its strong accenting. From deft guidance of former to decisive of the latter, Rattle was most adept.

The least among altogether fine team of soloists ultimately turned out to be Magdalena Kozena. Through into so far as a fine ‘Erbame dich’ in Part 2, with fine, highly expressive yet reserved obbligato from Laurence Jackson, hootiness intermittently from Kozena could be overlooked for the emotion she invested into it all. One or two later passages, past unforgettably choked final note of ‘Erbame dich,’ revealed however fallacy in taking such all-holds-barred approach to Bach. For one thing, if the soloist (or conductor) sweats too much, then the audience, invited by Bach to fully, psychologically partake in this, gets denied. The sincerity of Ms Kozena was never in doubt, neither likely was the mental, vocal fatigue by which time she got to ‘Ach, Golgotha’ and great aria following it.

‘Sehet Jesus hat die Hand,’ with its very long reaching melisma off opening quarter note, almost explicitly comes with the warning that better to take such on lightly than to lean on it so as did Kozena, Whatever a Sellars/Rattle ecumenical message of sorts is out there, this is not Bach’s ‘Mater dolorosa.’ Since it happens at point which this narrative reaches the Cross, one might easily be led so astray. The reaching out of the arms of Christ while in egregious pain and state of open shame, to all those in his midst both physically and otherwise, is the very selfless invitation it is and message here. It is the more greatly moving this way; it is also the way Bach wrote it, very much on purpose as true to what Luther taught in his sermons as well. After, nearly on pitch, bawling the opening line, Kozena did lighten up some, but for this piece, too little, too late. Jerkily accompanied, layered on approach to “Erbarm’es Gott” (right before just passable ‘Koennen Thranen’) also misfired – on part of both Kozena and Rattle.

Topi Lehtipuu, giving Padmore a much deserved rest, made most earnest, direct expression of his ‘O Schmerz’, followed by noble etching of his two arias ‘Ich will bei meinen Jesus’ and ‘Geduld.’ For crest of his lines in especially his opening recitative, he openly sounded forth a fast but controlled vibrato with fine expressive abandon, to complement Padmore’s Evangelist in a telling way. He thus filled out right what Padmore was conscientious on most lines to restrain.

If anyone might have been deduced to be both soloist and resident theologian in one on stage at Birmingham Symphony Hall for this, look no further than Thomas Quasthoff. He achieved as close to humanly possible a definitive interpretation of bass soloist. If you remain convinced after this that such a thing as a small part exists, here is who among two people I would have you meet - except that the great Alec Guinness is no longer with us. The varying and highly variable moods, attitudes, temperaments of Pilate, Judas, Peter, false witness, Caiaphas Quasthoff made all so very telling, incisive – to make it easy to guess there being several singers on stage acting these parts instead.

Simplest of all, Quasthoff was unabashedly direct with ‘Geht mir meinem Jesum’, matched well by equally unabashed virtuosic obbligato from (co-concertmaster) Catherine Arlidge. He sang with well gauged legato and fine pointing of words, but austerely his opening ‘Gerne will ich mich” and with deep feeling and introspection to distinctively very fine, ruddy toned viola da gamba obbligato (Richard Tunniliffe - also to be cited here for special praise), ‘Komm, susse Kreuz.' The latter made one out of three peaks achieved for Part 2 in this performance, ‘Aus Liebe’ (Tilling) and Quasthoff again for an absolutely definitive interpretation of his closing aria, ‘Mache dich mein Herze’ the others. A young Matti Salminen sounds richer on Karl Richter’s valedictory recording, and for first time I heard it, I thought perhaps as far as anyone could take the final aria. However then there is Thomas Quasthoff, who eschewed making so much of a fine range of well varied sonority from deep low notes to freely expressive top, for sake of its simple message. One needlessly feared that Quasthoff’s final line would be for Pilate at his most petty. Bach assuages our fears with series of final brief Adieu’s to for the moment dead Christ – and so did Quasthoff.

Simon Rattle closed with a well measured, proportioned final chorus - choral preparation by Simon Halsey absolutely first-rate throughout – including in scaling down so far the sound of so many voices on stage. If Rattle’s interpretation of St Matthew at times sounded mildly unvaried in color and emphasis, it was even instead perhaps always the most conscientious. The dark color for extended flat and sharp keys during Gethsemane, for instance, registered in full, as did nearly so, the silences between passages at, around Golgotha. Pacing, other than questioned momentarily once or twice, was most intelligent. Rattle managed to keep lean both the orchestral and choral textures for solo lines within to emerge clearly and with expressive point. He minded very well good tenets of baroque performance practice both texturally and for most solo work from his principals. His differentiation of pace, one chorale to another was very adept. ‘Bin ich gleich’ especially and ‘Befiehl von der Wege’ flowed purposefully forward with practical application of their texts forefront. Hushed stance for both ‘O Haupt’ and “Wenn ich einmal” toward the end was equally fine.

The news of the sudden passing of Phillip Langridge had to be a blow, in anticipation of already a fine event - now one very fittingly dedicated to his memory. While in grade school, KLEF-FM played new recordings of both Christmas Oratorio and Messiah of his – artist new to me - each opposite Elly Ameling. He made his mark so distinctively also in Britten, Janacek, as Idomeneo and Loge, through with great aplomb, the Witch in Hansel and Gretel, the latter that famously belied his having been pushing seventy. It added on to already a very well varied repertoire that he always delivered with fine technique, musicality and great expressivity. All best condolences are to extend to Ann Murray - distinctively passionate Elvira and Ariodante on disc - and to all the rest of those who loved him and will miss him dearly. Mark Padmore, singing Evangelist from memory very well, famously did memory of Langridge the honors such deserves.

As afterthought, who knows what Peter Sellars might have in mind for St. Matthew Passion? However, for sake of those who might carp or criticize, take for example the bass aria, as sung by Walter Berry, ‘Gerne will ich’ – on what we surmise is traditional Bach interpretation. The aria invites us on personal level to identify with the suffering of Christ. Taken at a funereal Adagio, it was as though Karajan could have just consulted his Zen master over this. How much more of a revisionist stance could one ever expect? Berry is (posthumously) to be lauded for his breath control to have courageously sustained the aria so well. As for Sellars and Simon Rattle, we can just hope for what will further our insight into this great masterpiece instead of hindering it. There is strong hope that there will be – Rattle has conducted the St John Passion before – more for Rattle to bring into his work in other repertoire from this, instead of being any the lesser for such involvement he availed of himself here.

Rattle/BPO Waldbuhne 2009: off night - ' Idiot's guide to' undercutting Russian warhorses

If one ever looks to the Berlin Philharmonic for playing of true class or distinction, which they have achieved somewhat for Sir Simon Rattle before, it was better to stay away from this year’s Waldbuhne - over any media or in any form.

Two major works filled most of the program – Rachmaninov Third Piano Concerto and Stravinsky's Rite of Spring. As filler, Rattle included several excerpts from the Nutcracker ballet by Tchaikovsky. This portion, which took us from miniature overture just as far as the end of the March, was played a little too coy to be digestible. String crescendi in the overture got worked, and transition to the March was messy; the March carried sufficient casual swagger about itself to almost practically redefine it.

Yefim Bronfman – now ‘pianist-in-residence’ with the Philharmonic - was soloist for the Rachmaninoff Third Piano Concerto. No distinctive shaping happened during opening lines of the first movement. Bronfman then worked Berlin cellos with meaninglessly highlighted upbeats while he otherwise coasted through mostly steady stream of sixteenths to accompany them. Phrasing to follow also sounded indecisive. Rattle’s bloating of transition to the second theme, with hints of Fauntleroy, did not help. For expressivity from Bronfman, one got a measly generic massage-the-phrase treatment this music certainly better does without. After a good ride over larger crest to the line, all was tweed, ‘take-me-to-Palm-Court’ to close exposition to the first movement.

For the development section, orchestral ensemble deteriorated further and Bronfman’s playing, enough to mistake him for Eugene Istomin attempting this piece – I myself grateful to never have heard that - became increasingly choppy and clipped. For enveloping purposes - returning center of gravity to proceedings - before the cadenza began, Rattle engaged the Berlin Phil in some truly inordinate heavy breathing. Bronfman then, though hitting most of the notes, proceeded to pulverize much of the more difficult version of the first movement cadenza. Smearing of figuration and back-phrasing of what also followed was hardly distinctive.

Not far into the intermezzo, Rattle went for a huge dip in shaping the line, followed by Bronfman making a smear of starting his first entrance, ascending through his cocktail lounge jazz-improv assessment of cadence in D-Flat Major. No reference to Rattle’s Stravinsky coming up, but playing by Berlin winds and ‘street’ reprise of first movement theme were alone in being effective until end of this movement - Bronfman getting cluttered toward end of final brief cadenza he had started well.

Hardly anything happened during the finale, played unabridged, inconsistent with what had preceded it, except that choice of tempo, in being more forward moving, improved on earlier. Berlin PO violins on lyrical subjects sounded hardly distinguishable from those for instance of the Los Angeles Philharmonic; by this point, Berlin, like Bronfman, had started to smear significant amount of passage-work. Extended episode in E-Flat Major ranged from heavily clipped to Ketelbey coy – Rachmaninoff as ‘picnic party’ for much of this. Combat phrasing, truffle hunting of opening to reprise of A section, smear to follow, then phoning in of reprise of the second theme did not assist matters. Lower strings on segue into start of the coda made ‘Julien’s concert’ (as brass get described therein) out of it, then the brass on upbeats; Rattle apoplectically veered between clipping and bloating the music out of shape – just in part to match Bronfman.

Matters improved little for Rite of Spring; Rattle is more responsible on his old EMI disc of this. Holding opening note on upper-register bassoon for ten seconds just helps make it contest between orchestral principals the world over as to who can hold it the longest.

A ‘street’ Rite of Spring followed this, for much of it, as coming off the upper west side. With Leonard Bernstein, it seems that we have been here before - as recently found slavishly imitated by Paavo Jarvi to no convincing effect with Cincinnati. This is Berlin here however. I thought (and still do) that both the Karajan recordings of this music were mediocre, but not in terms of at least technical ability of Berlin to play this music well. Hip swagger of so much of Stravinsky’s rhythms here went well over the top, through Rattle’s take on how a slow hoochie-goo of ‘Glorification de l’elue should go.

Some address of current local vernacular tendencies, mere suggestion thereof, can be apropos in Rite of Spring, but one must be far more mindful than this example and two other listed above, not to turn Rite into caricature. Thierry Fischer and BBC Nat’l of Wales very deftly, concisely pointed references in Rite to vernacular even in French internationalized society of the time right after Rite was written. Fischer thus accomplished making numerous very interesting interpretive points.

Struggle here to keep so much a jungle of woodwind interaction together during Introduction to Part One was palpable. Placement of isolated two measures of trill in the violins went for naught. Underlining of woodwinds during ‘Augurs of Young Girls’ was too self-conscious by half - compromising pulsation throughout this section. Jeu de rapt’ then got compromised by scherzo pointing of the winds, some voltage from timpani interjections showing up just how sanitized all of Rattle’s rhythms had already become, with violins note-spinning outflow in sextuplets from everything preceding them.

‘Rondes de printemps’, after heavily gilded intro to it, started adequately, for one section, with accenting correct, except for heavily gilding, enveloping the two note sff brass intrusions that made nonsense of those. For the faster coda to ‘Spring Rounds’, Rattle’s rhythms turned loose to point of being anywhere from gently Africanized to flitting by. ‘Games of Rival Tribes’ and ‘Dance of the Earth’, the latter barely starting off together, proceeded casually, as down Harlem way. In-between was Procession of the Sage, in which theme in lower brass got a bit covered by repeated note (A-flats) in a pair of bassoons – a picture of the Sage dilly-dallying about while all the rest marched by.

A heavily gilded Introduction started off Part 2 on the wrong foot, with much gas and bloat of repeated consequent to the opening phrase. What in the meal offerings had given the tribe so much indigestion? Flutes, with their gilded dovetailing to everything they were playing, turned all positively Technicolor. A four note chant within space of a whole tone was given gentle swivel to its step. Balances between leading and supporting voices several places before ‘Glorification’ were altered for seemingly hardly more purpose than to notice Rattle’s personal stamp on proceedings. Segue to ‘Glorfication’ got italicized - with ‘Evocation of Ancestors’ extendomh the hitch that had just infused ‘Glorification.’ Much jazz improv ensued through ‘Ritual Action’, with just adequate street pulsation to t climax of this section – right before bass clarinet riff into ‘Danse sacrale.’

Pointed by farts in the tuba at its start, ‘Danse sacrale’ coasted casually along, a cross between gas-bloated phlegmatic and ‘upper west side.’ Allowing violins to be heard too clearly above all else going on and especially out-of-the-way spotlighting of ascending tuba through thicket of busy texture turned all practically Mehta-esque. Sudden speed-up before reprise of Intro to ‘Danse sacrale’ was practically entrance of Tinker-bell to change screen on Wonderful World of Disney. Was it Mickey Mouse or Goofy then to meet Sir Simon in the foyer or green room? Playing Nutcracker Pas de deux as encore to Rite deserves no comment.

Brahms (a somewhat retiring Third) and Shostakovich at the Proms last summer made fine showcase of what Rattle and Berlin are capable, but their Messiaen Turangalila during the same week showed up where Rattle can come up short, for lack of being attentive to important issues while taking on twentieth century music.

While I must cut things short here in order to make my Michael Jackson grief support counseling session on time, I leave the house only able to think back as far as this Rite of Spring. Perhaps there has been no more fitting tribute, hardly more innocuous, to mark ahead of time occasion of the passing of who gave even Berlners the moonwalk.