Review: Neeme Järvi Conducts Sibelius Tone Poems

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Review

Sibelius, Jean: En Saga, Op. 9 (Urban Claesson, clarinet); Spring Song, Op. 16+;

Four excerpts from the incidental music to Kuolema*:

Valse Triste, Op. 44, No. 1
Scene with Cranes, Op. 44, No. 2
Canzonetta, Op. 62a
Valse Romantique, Op. 62b

The Bard, Op. 64+; Tapiola, Op. 112#.

Göteborgs Symfoniker, Neeme Järvi, Conductor.

Deutsche Grammophon 289-457-654-2 (DDD).

Recorded December 1992, May 1994+, May 1995*, August 1995#, at Konserthuset,
Göteborg, Sweden. Released in 2000.

Those who have read my reviews know that I usually prefer my Sibelius to be performed as closely to the score as possible. My favorite conductors of Sibelius are (in order) Ormandy, Barbirolli, Ashkenazy and Jansons. What I hear in their performances is not so much interpretation as faithful -- yet inspiring -- renderings of the score. Conversely, I have dismissed a recording by Herbert von Karajan, for which I've received a lot of hate mail because I believed that Karajan imposed his personality -- a boring one, at that -- on his performances (I have been informed by Karajan aficionados that Karajan's earlier recordings are quite the opposite - I shall buy and review one shortly).

Neeme Jarvi Then again, every once in a while, I run across a conductor who takes free rein with Sibelius but whose performances are so fiery and awe-inspiring that I dismiss liberties taken with the score. Stokowski and Toscanini -- yes, Toscanini, who was not quite the purist everyone made him out to be -- instantly come to mind in this category. This present collection by Estonian conductor Neeme Järvi falls into this category. It has been a long time since I thrilled to a new Sibelius recording.

Järvi's execution of the pieces is not flawless: For example, in En Saga, there are times when flutes rush in a little early. All throughout this disc, there are similar moments, particularly of strings playing out of unison. Järvi begins both En Saga and Tapiola with a hurried pace, then seems to bring both pieces to a labouriously slow tempo (The Tapiola clocks in at a snail's pace 20:09). If this were a recording by either Bernstein or Karajan, I would dismiss it as show-offish. However, upon more careful listening, I can understand the method to Järvi's seeming madness. The one quality which stands out above all others in this recording is that the sterile and antiseptic tone which infects most present-day orchestras is gloriously gone; How refreshing it is to hear passion in a recording; to hear orchestral players who sound as though they love the music they are playing; to hear instrumentalists not afraid of making slight technical mistakes when going for a sforzando or crescendo. There is a touch of Beecham, of Mitropoulos, in Järvi's conducting. The sequence of the compositions on this album is chronological, giving the listener fine examples of how Sibelius developed his distinctly individualistic "way" with sound as he matured.

Järvi's En Saga, which opens the disc, is less heavy-handed than any other I've heard. It is briskly paced, lithe and lacking in the tonal corpulence which characterizes most interpretations. Of all the performances I've heard, with the exception of Arturo Toscanini's, Järvi is performing the more "organic" rather than the "romantic" Sibelius who composed En Saga; Polytonality is more evident, particularly in horn and wind passages; String phrasing is more stark and dampened, eschewing vibrato. As an ensemble, the Göteborgs Symfoniker's instrumentalists communicate well with one another. There are some of the most profound exchanges between the flutes, English horn and strings which stand out on this recording.

Spring Song, Canzonetta and Valse Romantique are all new to me; I own no other recordings, so have nothing to which I can compare them. That having been said, I am reverting to my secondary standard of review for this particular recording: Does the piece sound particularly Sibelian? ("Sibelian" is a rather elusive term; you know it when you hear it). The answer on all counts is a resounding "yes," even though Valse Romantique sounds too "Viennese." Spring Song is a quintessential example of the early Sibelius, which is often akin to Grieg. It begins in a deceptively placid manner, but builds up in a piling-on of passionate thematic strands, much like the Vivacissimo of the (future) Second Symphony. There is more than a touch of Liebestod (the young Sibelius was an arduous, if somewhat secretive, admirer of Wagner) about this piece: The interweaving of ecstatic, romantic love and the tragic sense of fear and mortality which accompanies it. Only a fatalistic Romantic such as Jean Sibelius would give such a composition the deceptively innocuous title "Spring Song."

I like Järvi's Valse Triste, though I find nothing particularly moving or melancholic about the piece which is not already put on paper by the composer. There is a small bit of plodding applied in the middle section, as though to emphasize the understated pathos of the piece. I much prefer the unadorned simplicity of Barbirolli's recording with the Halle Orchestra. But, then again, Barbirolli had such an implicit understanding of Sibelius within him that was rivaled only by his affinity to Elgar.

On the other hand, this is the best Scene with Cranes (an unjustly underappreciated Sibelius composition) I've heard: It sounds suspiciously like Grieg's Heart Wounds mixed with Siegfried's Rhine Journey. This performance is the clearest and most transparent I've heard -- the bowing on the strings sounds as though the violins were made of crystal glass.

The Canzonetta and Valse Romantique -- which Sibelius added to Kuolema for a 1911 revival of the play -- are less emotional as Valse Triste or Scene with Cranes. One can even recognize motifs from the Canzonetta which appear in Sibelius' Third Symphony. The Bard is a spiritual counterpart to Scene with Cranes. However, The Bard is pure Sibelius -- all the earlier influences in Sibelius' music have been distilled away.

Tapiola is somewhat out of place in this collection -- it is Sibelius' last composition, and it seems as though there ought to be at least one or two more selections to round out Sibelius' middle-to-later years, such as The Oceanides or Pohjola's Daughter. Space does not permit for their inclusion, however. Unlike En Saga, Järvi's Tapiola is heavier than the norm, from the opening timpani roll. Unfortunately, the timpani is somewhat off-tempo in the opening passages, but not too noticeably. The violas and wind ensembles deftly introduce a feeling of foreboding necessary to this work. The wind ensembles are not as tight as in the RCA Ormandy recording, and thus lack the stress of counterpoint to the strings. However, this is offset by the menacing and dark tones of the contrabassoon and bass clarinet, upon which Järvi places marked emphasis. This is not the "big picture" rendering of Ashkenazy, but rather an intricately thought-out, tactical performance. In the middle section, the rhythmic use of hard mallets on the kettledrums more than redeems the timpanist in my mind -- he plays with an aggressive, warlike cadence a la Bernard Herrmann's score for North by Northwest. Again: How refreshing! Timpanists today play like shrinking violets, afraid to break from the score, lest some sophisticates think they actually care about the music. Most sound as though they have Q-Tips or wet noodles for mallets, so kudos to the timpanist of the Göteborgs Symfoniker for sounding as though he has a pair! On the whole, this is a unique Tapiola. I actually wish it weren't recorded digitally, but rather on a vintage Westrex motion-picture recording system from the 1940s; It is a "film-noir" Tapiola, worthy of Max Steiner or Franz Waxman.

As for the recording itself, it is a little heavy on the bass side -- I have to turn the bass way down just to tolerate the overbearing rumble of the bass drum. On the other hand, there is a rather peripatetic sound to the stereo which reminds me of the old Mercury Living Presence or RCA Victor Living Stereo recordings. The reader should purchase this collection not only for the searing energy of the performances, but also to be introduced to some of Sibelius' lesser-known works.