BEST
CLASSICAL MUSIC CDs
Though
the prominence of Süssmayr's trombone in the "Tuba mirum" has been mildly
controversial in some circles, Mackerras treats the instrument as an
iconographic symbol of sorts — the sound of Judgment Day, perhaps — whose
presence slowly insinuates itself almost from the beginning and then
chillingly comes to the foreground. Even the musically thinner sections of the
Requiem are treated to a special grace and lyricism by Mackerras, whose tight
overall pacing makes the piece seem less uneven in inspiration than usual. The
"Amen" fugue — an outstanding feature of the Levin edition not found in
Süssmayr — has never had a more convincing reading than it gets here. I'm not
sure how well it fits next to the "Lacrimosa," but then, very few performances
have simultaneously captured that movement's equal debts to Bach and Baroque
dance.
Mackerras's
vocal quartet is the most consistently compatible on disc, and their solo
passages reflect deep thought about both the meaning of the text and the
emotional temperature Mozart gives it in his word settings. Never do any of
the musicians sound drilled; their sense of ensemble is the most natural thing
in the world. The sound quality has a churchy glow, yet it's never wanting for
clarity. You'd never know that this near-perfect recording comes from such an
imperfect world as ours. For all its strengths, however, the disc doesn't
exactly displace other Levin-edition recordings. Those not wholly comfortable
with the extent to which Mackerras has traveled down the historically informed
path will find a happy medium with Bernard Labadie, La Chapelle de Quebec and
Les Violons du Roy on Dorian. That performance is, in any case, a uniquely
charged experience, having been recorded only ten days after 11 September 2001
in the acoustical Parnassus of the Troy Savings Bank Auditorium in upstate New
York. And now, for the other end of the spectrum. Britten's performance takes
the Requiem's existential terror to an extreme that I've imagined but never
heard. His means of doing so, however, is intense to the point of being
horrifying. The Aldeburgh Festival Chorus makes mighty sounds, and as if to
keep up, the starry quartet of soloists badly oversings, often to the point of
not sounding like their usual selves. Their lack of reserve makes a powerful
impression, as if they're in the heat of trying to comprehend and to convey an
emotional and spiritual level of being far above themselves (an approach more
often heard in Beethoven's Missa Solemnis). Britten takes a lot of his
interpretive cues from the accompanying figures in the orchestra, finding in
them a particularly strong emotional underpinning (especially in the "Lacrimosa")
for the dramatic impact of Mozart's word settings. But I
was baffled by Britten's quick, rhythmically severe tempo in the "Rex
tremendae," and in the later, Süssmayr-dominated movements, Britten maintains
a sense of drama, but it's a synthetic, generalized one. That might have
sustained a listener's interest in the concert hall, but it becomes relentless
on disc, especially by the time you hit the Sanctus and Agnus Dei. The 1971
concert recording, made at the Aldeburgh Festival, has a close microphone
perspective that renders the sound picture somewhat congested. In addition, I
tried, out of fairness to hardworking organists I've known, not to resent the
piercing organ sonority poking out of the piece's overall texture — but I lost
that battle. As always in such recorded documents, lack of polish must be
forgiven. Performances as impassioned as this one survive best in one's memory
from a live encounter; maybe that's why, amid so many live recordings of
Britten-conducted concerts to be released over the past ten years, this was
one slow to appear on the market. Still, I'm glad it's here even if I don't
hear it again: its viewpoint is so singular that even having experienced it
once is deeply valuable.
Martha Argerich and Friends Play Chamber Music by Brahms and
Mendelssohn
When it comes to sheer dynamic artistry there are few to excel the pianist Martha Argerich. She lights up her performances with her spellbinding virtuosity and, more important, her fervour, brilliance and thoroughbred musicianship. In Brahms's sonata for two pianos, she is partnered by the Russian virtuoso Lilya Zilberstein — and a formidable pair they make. First composed as a string quartet, this powerful work was converted into a two-piano sonata at the prompting of Clara Schumann, who then made more criticisms so that it finally emerged as the Piano Quintet. But the sonata version has its own validity; and in a performance such as this, when its profusion of ideas is governed by a sense of musical architecture, it is a rewarding experience. So is Mendelssohn's D minor Trio, Op 49, in which Argerich is joined by the brothers Renaud and Gautier Capuçon (violin and cello). What a lovely work this is and how we undervalue Mendelssohn. It is clear that Argerich inspired her younger colleagues to emulate her delight in the music, notably in the intimacy of the Andante and the quicksilver Scherzo. These performances were recorded at last summer's Lugano Festival and the disc is dedicated to the memory of Jürg "Abdul" Grand, founder-director of the Argerich project at the festival, whose humour and hospitality will also be sadly missed by visitors to the EMI office in Salzburg.- Michael McKennedy.
