There was a time when a conductor interpreting a Beethoven symphony examined the score, brought his own artistic insights to bear in combination with his training and experience, and simply played the music. Things are more complicated now; the choices are more varied–and in a sense “external” to the essentially contemplative process of arriving at an interpretation. Should the conductor use period instruments, modern instruments played in period fashion, or traditionally? The appearance of the new Bärenreiter editions of the scores even calls certain (admittedly pretty minor) details of the text into question. The result, in the case of Simon Rattle’s new Beethoven cycle, comes across less as a coherent presentation of one man’s Beethoven than as a sort of smorgasbord of interpretive options applied in a purer, more extensive form elsewhere.
This observation isn’t entirely fair to Rattle. It’s not his fault that there are dozens of competing performances of this music, and in fact the most successful recent cycle (Barenboim’s) made a specific point of deriving its interpretive stance from one single performance tradition (the “German Romantic”). Nor is there any question that in beginning his cycle in the spirit of Roger Norrington and finishing it à la Herbert von Karajan, Rattle has indeed succeeded in “personalizing” his view of Beethoven in a way that sets him apart from the crowd–no mean achievement in and of itself. Your own personal reaction to it will of course also depend on how many other versions of the same music you happen to know and enjoy, and whether the overtly referential aspects of Rattle’s view bother you or not. But there’s also some truth, as we shall see, to George Szell’s adage about putting “chocolate sauce on asparagus.” Such a heterogeneous approach, in which Furtwängler rubs shoulders with John Eliot Gardiner (sometimes within the same movement), risks drawing attention away from the dramatic argument that the music expresses in favor of what sometimes sounds like a lecture-demonstration illustrating how it can be played.
Given these observations, it should come as no surprise that Rattle fares best in those symphonies where he’s not trying so hard to mix apples and oranges–and this means Symphonies Nos. 1-4, and 8. Indeed, he offers one of the very best recordings of No. 4 ever: lithe, lean, exciting, perfectly paced, and with that feeling of effortless freedom of movement (particularly in the finale) that characterizes this of all Beethoven’s works. He’s also very fine in the “Eroica”, where the Romantic elements consist of some very well executed transitions between sections in an otherwise tightly argued first movement, and some thrillingly over-the-top brass playing in the funeral march’s climactic fugue. Only a slightly flat-footed coda at the symphony’s conclusion mars an otherwise worthy achievement. And as noted above, the first two symphonies (and No. 8, with a remarkably well-judged and unhurried finale) are basically pure period style, tempered (despite the lack of string vibrato) by a welcome measure of Viennese care in phrasing.
In the great trio of “middle-period” symphonies, Nos. 5-7, the results are more varied, as is Rattle’s approach. His tempo adjustments in the first movement of the Fifth and the oily legato in the development (where the horn theme gets reduced note by note in dialog between strings and winds) tend to undercut the music’s tension and momentum, and in the second movement (at figure C) the dynamic swells in the upper strings wrest attention away from the melody in the bass. Such gambits also render irrelevant any claim to advantage stemming from the use of the new Bärenreiter editions–which is a good thing, by the way. No one should invest in a Beethoven cycle because of the edition used (it’s different with Bruckner or say Janácek, where the textual differences can be huge). But returning to Rattle’s Fifth, after some iffy moments in the first two movements, the scherzo and finale (save for an over-prominent piccolo in the latter) come off with all the drive and excitement that we could want.
The Sixth is the most disappointing performance in the cycle. Despite a superb scherzo and storm, and like Karajan and Harnoncourt before him, Rattle fails to capture the music’s quiet flow and simplicity of expression. The first movement chugs along too heavily. Rattle’s “espressivo” shaping of the second movement sounds unconvincing and makes the music drag, and in the finale his urging of the violins to produce a tone of saccharine sweetness in the principal theme compromises the music’s innocent joy. The Seventh, on the other hand, goes much better. Yes, Rattle brings to pointless prominence a musically irrelevant accompaniment figure in the first movement’s recapitulation, and his tempo manipulations in the finale (and somewhat Stravinskian approach to rhythmic emphasis) are unusual, but the performance hangs together well, successfully projects the music’s energy and dynamism, and most importantly captures the music’s abundant sense of fun.
In the Ninth, Rattle offers a mostly full-blown German Romantic interpretation, with a granitic first movement (fantastic recapitulation), fleet scherzo (with John Eliot Gardiner’s timpani solos played diminuendo), soulful Adagio (17-plus minutes and a bit mannered in phrasing), and a very well sung and played finale. Only at the very end, where Rattle turns the music into a piccolo concerto and rushes mercilessly through the final “maestoso”, does common sense fly out the window, but it’s a good performance nonetheless. In all of this muisc the Vienna Philharmonic plays with characteristic assurance, though there are a few moments (in the Eroica’s first movement) of equally characteristically Viennese rhythmic shakiness, and the strings clearly enjoy playing with vibrato rather than without. But it’s also part of Rattle’s conception to give the winds unusual prominence (shades of Klemperer), and aside from his obsession with excessively forward piccolo parts, this suits his approach very well. EMI’s sonics are generally excellent and the packaging and presentation are absolutely first class as befits the seriousness of the project.
So what’s the bottom line? There’s no question that Rattle has assembled a Beethoven cycle that is well played, well recorded, and has plenty of character. Several of the performances are outstanding, most are good, and only the Sixth is what I would call a failure. Still, there are too many really excellent cycles out there (and Rattle’s view of the music is too inconsistent) for this to become a first recommendation. One of the very best of the recent editions is also on EMI: Charles Mackerras’ with the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic. It’s as fine a “period” approach as any, and it has gotten absolutely zero support from its own company, to EMI’s lasting shame. As for Rattle, serious Beethoven collectors can rest assured that if they take the plunge and purchase this set, there will be more than enough that is interesting, unusual, or striking to justify the investment–and more importantly, the majority of performances are enjoyable enough to listen to repeatedly.
