Volume 28 Issue 1 | September 20 - November 8, 2022

ecord a new version of the nine Beethoven
Symphonies with none other than Yannick
Nézet-Séguin, one of the most expressive and
thoughtful conductors on the scene today,
someone capable of truly joyous musicmaking.
Add to this the backing of Deutsche
Grammophon and you have the makings of a
wonderful project: the first recording of the
New Complete Edition of the Symphonies,
painstakingly prepared for the Beethoven
celebrations in 2020.
What is new in this edition? As a contrabassoonist
myself, I’m delighted to say that
the program notes make quite a lot of the fact
that the most noticeable change is a muchexpanded
role for the contrabassoon in the
Ninth Symphony. Designated contrabassoon
parts in Beethoven’s hand exist for the
finales of the Fifth and Ninth Symphonies
but the liner notes point out that Beethoven
created tailor-made versions of the Ninth
for various specific performances and that
the new contra part is an amalgam of six
different contra parts from Beethoven’s day.
I was curious to find out if these changes are
audible: bad contrabassoon playing quickly
makes itself obvious but a well-rendered
contra part can make a performance seem
rich or deep without the listener knowing
exactly why. Such is the case in this set. I
deliberately listened to the Ninth without any
clue as to where the contra has been added,
just to see if I could hear anything new and
I’m happy to say that I did. Behind the baritone‘s
first solo after the recitative, there is
definitely more of a “spine” in the bassline,
and at the Turkish March, one can hear that
the contra has been moved up an octave as it
used to appear in older editions.
Are there other audible changes in this
edition? In the second movement of the
Ninth, the repeats have been sorted out (559
bars total vs. 954) and there is a diminuendo
in the tympani part which I don’t recognize.
As far as the rest of the set goes, there
is an unusual ornament in the third movement
of the Seventh Symphony but otherwise
most listeners won’t notice anything
strikingly unusual. There are many lovely
turns of articulation but it’s hard to say
whether this is because of changes to the
edition or just good musicianship. Tempos
are not always what Beethoven called for but
they are always appropriate with the exception
of a rather slow third movement in
the Fifth. Interestingly, this tempo gives a
great sense of relief when it returns in the
last movement so perhaps that was YN-S’s
intent. Another surprise comes at the start
of the second movement of the Eroica where
the grace notes in the basses seem to arrive
after the downbeat: an interpretation that is,
well, puzzling.
The playing of the orchestra is wonderful:
tight ensemble in the strings, characterful
woodwind solos, discreet brass and incisive
tympani playing. My main concern is with
the way the orchestra has been recorded.
Producer Andrew Mellor seems to prefer a
mix that locates the listener very close to the
first violin section often making the firsts
too present and the rest of the orchestra too
vague. This is particularly true of the lower
woodwinds and the horns, making many of
the chorale passages sound unblended and
rendering more than one duet as more of a
solo with only a hint of the second line. And
before you dismiss me as being partisan, I
can assure you that many other recordings
sound, to my ears, much more homogenous
and portray the winds and strings as more
equal teams. Ultimately, the buck stops with
YN-S, but I’m more inclined to question the
engineering.
If you can listen past the balance issues, or
if it sounds just fine to you on your system,
you will be rewarded with much grace and
humour and some thrilling moments: the
whole First Symphony is a delight and the
first movement of the Seventh is pure joy. The
funeral march of the Eroica seems to have a
special depth to it, as you might expect, and
the singing in the Ninth is first-rate, possibly
because of details added in this edition. I
particularly love the qualities of Florian
Boesch’s baritone voice which give an almost
tenor-ish spring to his solo and I have never
heard a more nuanced and articulate version
of the Ninth’s celli/bassi recitative.
Fraser Jackson
The Year That Never Was
Matei Varga
Sono Luminus DSL-93358
(sonoluminus.com)
! An eclectic,
highly personal
recording from
Romanian pianist
Matei Varga is
intended “to bring
joy when we
really need it… to
take [the] mind
away from current realities.” As such, Varga
offers an attractively curated disc of miniature
delights, from Gershwin to Chopin
to Scarlatti. The contemporary content on
this disc is sourced from the salon-styled
pen of Cuban master, Ernesto Lecuona and
Romanian composer, Andrei Tudor, whose
Ronda alla Crazy is featured as a quirky
micro-highlight. This three-minute swinging
track encapsulates a veritable brand of
crazy, born of pandemic freneticism. (It was
even delivered to Matei by the composer via
Facebook Messenger!)
Ernesto Lecuona’s music was a new
(pandemic) discovery for Varga, and one that
centres the vision for the record. Varga is at
home in this off-beat repertoire, imputing
characteristic charm and improvisatorial ease
to Lecuona’s 19th Century Cuban Dances.
Here, interwoven with Chopin’s “salon”
music, the pairing of both composers brings
credibility to Lecuona. It is a clever juxtaposition,
framing Chopin less seriously and
Lecuona more so. Varga reminds us that
much of Chopin’s art originated from smaller
stages and gentil spaces, sporadically populated
by aristocrats who desired to be amused,
not feverously stirred.
Varga’s signature pianism is apt in arguing
for seemingly disparate musical threads.
More of a recital program than a thematically
directed album, The Year That Never Was
nonetheless achieves satisfaction, executed
with much joy and a tasteful, rollicking fondness
for this personalized set list.
Adam Sherkin
Musical Remembrances
Neave Trio
Chandos CHAN 20167 (chandos.net/
products/catalogue/CHAN%2020167)
! Recorded in
2021 at Potton
Hall, England
and released on
Chandos Records,
their fourth for
the label, Musical
Remembrances by
the Neave
Trio (Anna Williams, violin; Mikhail Veselov,
cello; and Eri Nakamura, piano) captures
the trio in a reflective mood. The album is
inspired by remembrance, both in terms of
repertoire selection (Ravel’s Piano Trio in A
Minor, Op.67 captures the French composer
“remembering” his native Basque musical
tradition) and in terms of remembering
what a pre-pandemic world of touring and
concertizing was like for musicians of the
calibre and renown of the Neave Trio. And
while speculative as this recording may be,
it is anything but maudlin or melancholic –
the dynamic chosen repertoire pops from the
stereo speakers with the same clarity, purpose
and confidence of delivery that earned
their previous recording, Her Voice, a best
recording of the year designation by both The
New York Times and BBC Radio 3.
Although the entire recording is excellent,
it is the Brahms Piano Trio No.1 in B
Major, Op.8 where the chamber group, to my
ears, shines brightest, bringing out a range of
musical emotions and drawing listener ears
towards new musical ideas over four movements
that always centre around excellence,
but leave room for new discoveries. On the
faculty now at the Longy School of Music of
Bard College, let us hope that this terrific trio
continues to find the time to mine the depths
of the great chamber music repertoire of
Western Art Music and make recordings such
as this that both delight and surprise.
Andrew Scott
54 | September 20 - November 8, 2022 thewholenote.com