Certain pieces make me happier like no others. There’s nothing rational about any of this, nothing logical, nothing I can present to the jury for defense. They’re just my favorite, desert-island, can’t-live-without-them pieces. Here’s one.
Mozart: Symphony No. 39 in E-flat Major, K. 543, II – Andante con moto
The second movement of this luminous late Mozart symphony almost never fails to enchant me, in its blend of fascinating rhythmic contrasts, its wondrously hushed lyrical passages, its adventurous key changes, its magical wind writing.
I say it almost never fails because certain performers can turn this ineffable silk purse into a sow’s ear. They’re almost all the HP types, those agenda-driven, canned-gesture automatons who lack poetry in their souls and have lost whatever sense of mystery they might have ever had about music. Fortunately I don’t have to waste much time on any of them, unless there’s a point to be made. This is music that responds most strongly to intensely personal musicianship, depth of feeling, and a sincere, beating-heart love of music. Thus the best thing to do with the HP recordings: run screaming from the listening room.
Favorite Recordings
Bruno Walter conducts the Columbia Symphony Orchestra (1961)
Walter recorded this symphony three times over his long career—in 1934 with the BBC Symphony, in 1956 with the New York Philharmonic, and 1961 with the ‘Columbia Symphony Orchestra,’ which is actually the Los Angeles Philharmonic with some additions from the best studio orchestras. Walter may not be in sync with today’s rushed and crabbed sensibilities, but that’s not a black mark on Bruno Walter. It’s a black mark on today. Any musician who can’t hear the absolute rightness, the radiance, of Walter’s loving approach to this symphony is, frankly, a musician I’d never want to perform with or listen to. Walter gives the phrases time to breathe, luxuriates in beautiful string and wind tone, and sings this exquisite creation out with every bit of love he has. (And that’s a lot of love.) The orchestra players give it their all in return—and quite an ‘all’ it is.
Of Walter’s two earlier performances, the early one with the BBC Symphony is truly lovely, and it’s instructive to hear how his conception of the movement was essentially already established in 1934. The 1956 New York Philharmonic performance is also good but suffers from a ham-handed orchestra and some distinctly iffy wind intonation.
Carlo Maria Giulini conducts the Berlin Philharmonic (1982)
Giulini was a conductor very much in the Bruno Walter mode, and so it shouldn’t be surprising that his performance of the Symphony 39 slow movement would luxuriate in the music’s beauty. Slower than many (at 10:08 it’s slower than Walter at 9:14,) it doesn’t feel slow, and that’s the critical thing. There’s so much happening in this performance: the limpid warm clarity of the strings, the finely fashioned wind sonorities, the long phrases with their natural breathing and contours. If the Walter performances didn’t exist, the Giulini/Berlin could stand in their place. And none of Walter’s performances can boast an orchestra like the Berlin Philharmonic.
Daniel Barenboim conducts the English Chamber Orchestra (1968)
There’s a pattern emerging here, in that I’m clearly attached to slower and more loving performances. At 8:58 Barenboim is just a smidgen faster than Walter, and more than a smidgen faster than Giulini, but the same attention to tonal luster, warmth, and just plain old love turn this carefully-fashioned and intelligent performance into a thing of rare beauty. The ECO went into this project having recently put down some of the most memorable Mozart symphony performances in recorded history under the peerless baton of Benjamin Britten, so one can say they were primed and ready to roll for Barenboim.
Rafael Kubelik conducts the Bavarian Radio Symphony (1988)
With a name like “Bavarian Radio Symphony” it sure doesn’t sound like a world-class orchestra, but it’s really and truly one of the great ones. That south German adoration of fine music, combined with superb musical training and a series of distinguished conductors, results in an orchestra that more often than not leaves one enchanted, thrilled, and moved.
And in Rafael Kubelik they had one of the unsung giants of the podium, a conductor of absolute musical integrity who eschewed even the slightest hint of showboating. (That may be why he never had the rep of certain more glamorous and musically-inferior conductors.) This 1988 performance is perfection, period. It’s on the fast side compared to my other loves (9:12, but that’s well within the Walter-Giulini-Barenboim range), but the lyrical poise, the tonal balance, the sheer civilization of this performance make it one in a million.
Some Absolutely NOT Favorite Recordings
Alan Gilbert conducts the New York Philharmonic (2014)
Here we have the sorry spectacle of a conductor with absolutely no affinity for a piece of music plodding through an uninspired, unimaginative, and downright noncommittal performance. Today’s Philharmonic players are a much more affable gang than the dour grumps whom Walter was obliged to lead, but even if they play with professional polish (and then some,) nothing can ameliorate their being whisked through the movement by a conductorial efficiency expert.
Nikolaus Harnoncourt conducts the Concentus Musicus Wien (2014)
To paraphrase the late Roger Ebert, I hated, hated, hated, HATED this performance. This is HP at its most agenda-driven and careless, contemptuous of artistic sensibility and without the slightest hint of good taste. Fully two minutes shorter than Walter—and this is with taking every repeat no matter what, in keeping with that grim HP dogmatism—this renders great music as a silly trifle, a performance in which every phrase is flicked off crisply, every legato is warped by woofy swells, and the overall demeanor of this most heartfelt of slow movements is deliberately devolved into music that could appeal only to the most dance-y dance-y and brain-dead of vapid little twits. Everybody responsible for this calculated insult to a great composer should be ashamed of themselves.