Bruckner 6: Chung / Concertgebouw – Amsterdam 6/6/08 (in English)

[Choo Choo]

Timings: 14:32, 20:16, 8:18, 14:45

Myung-Whun Chung has a deserved reputation as a skilled and imaginative conductor of Nielsen – and just how imaginative, was demonstrated in this performance of one of the finest symphonies that Nielsen never wrote. Undeterred, Chung delivered a vigorous, impressionistic, highly romantic interpretation, with a distinctly Scandinavian voice.

If there is a performance problem with Bruckner’s 6th symphony, it lies in the outer movements, and has a lot to do with tempo. The Adagio and the Scherzo pretty much look after themselves: slower is better, but they work at almost any speed. The Introduction and Finale, however, set a question which has to be decided at the outset, and the answer largely determines the kind of performance that results.

The key to many a good performance – and almost all great ones – lies in choosing a moderate initial speed, and from then on, basically working around that: now faster, now slower, but all the various episodes hung off the same single coherent line. Surprisingly few conductors choose this course: it’s much more common to sprint away from the line like Felipe Massa off the grid at Monaco, ignoring the Majestoso marking – and then slam on the brakes into the first corner – then accelerate away – then brake again – and so on, all the way to the chequered flag. Depending on the skill of the driver, the effect can range from exhilarating to queasy – but even when done well, the succession of distinct episodes of very different character can make the symphony as a whole seem disjoint and even arbitrary in its construction. I suppose the idea is to add variety and (therefore) add interest, but if the result is fragmented then it’s all too easy for a listener to lose the thread and (therefore) lose interest.

Chung went a step further: starting off the opening movement at a fast pace, he not only kept that up through the curves, but in places even managed to speed up further. There was plenty of variation in the tempo, but all variations of fast. The result was a ride to remember, if not always for the right reasons. You could not even think of trying this with a lesser orchestra, and even the Concertgebouw struggled to keep up – the Concertgebouw, whose ensemble playing is one of the wonders of the modern world – whose pinpoint timing is normally so solid, you could take it to the bank and borrow money against it – but on this occasion, their timing drifted almost from the start, and by halfway through this first movement, the various sections seemed to be functioning more or less independently. The lines were often indistinct, the pulse weak and wandering – and there was at least one occasion when it fell apart completely: a descending figure passed down through the winds reached the poor tuba player at a point where he had already run out of road, with no option but just to stop mid-phrase: nowhere left to go. The orchestra did their best – and there were moments of great power and concentration – but without the space to let the music build properly, inevitably much of it was a scramble.

The Adagio was taken at a much more measured pace – in fact, two more measured paces: slow, and very slow. Either would be fine on its own: using both, alternately, to divide the movement into sections had the effect again of weakening the continuity and lowering the intensity. Together with the uncertain timing which persisted even here, one of Bruckner’s loveliest slow movements was made to seem somewhat shapeless and repetitive. Though not excessively slow, and certainly never dragging, nonetheless by the end of the movement a number of people around me (including one of my companions) were visibly fast asleep.

However it was during the Adagio that I finally found an answer to the question that had been bothering me from the start i.e. why was Chung doing it like this? Given that he’s a conductor of great talent, and this one of the great orchestras with fine Bruckner credentials. At some point in the Adagio – some effect created – I suddenly realised: he was playing it like Nielsen. Hence the unconcern for timing: it may be critical for Bruckner, but less so for Nielsen. Those swirling, surging strings, tracing arabesques independently of the rest: that’s a Nielsen effect. He is not building a cathedral, and those are not bricks in the wall. A very different aesthetic was at work here.

From that point on – once I took off my Bruckner ears – the whole thing became a lot more intelligible, and more enjoyable. The Scherzo was crisp and dynamic: by Bruckner standards (if you must) it was arguably right at the limit of how fast is too fast, but it was vigorous and effective, with flamboyant displays of colour by the players. The Trio too was clear and nicely weighted.

The Finale – often a minefield for the uncertain Brucknerian – responded best of all to the Scandinavian approach. Starting at just the kind of medium pace to establish a solid and driving pulse (had that been on the menu) it soon slowed right down – and from then on, weaved through a series of quite separate but thematically linked episodes, that took us right through Nielsen and out the other side, into Sibelius. The orchestra played like lions, and for sure no-one was asleep by the end.

Chung is entitled to his interpretation – indeed, if you are going to stand in front of a world-class orchestra like the Concertgebouw and attempt to deliver a substantial and demanding work like Bruckner’s 6th, you are pretty much obliged to have something distinctive to say about it. Simply turning in another acceptable performance is really an opportunity wasted. This is, after all, why one goes to so many concerts, and collects so many recordings, of works which one already knows well: in order to hear them illuminated by different ideas and values. There is no one single “right” way of doing it.

So I don’t begrudge in the least Chung’s experiment in interpretation, which was certainly interesting, and, up to a point, enjoyable. There were many features to admire, and the playing of the Concertgebouw is always something to savour, even under pressure. But I have to say that, considered as a whole, in Brucknerian terms, this performance did not work well at all. Yes, all the necessary features were there, to some extent – but often in so blurred or rushed a form, that listeners needed to fill in the details from their own imagination if they wished to make a coherent whole out of it. Once I gave up on this and listened through Nielsen ears – and to some extent, let the music wash over me – the experience became less frustrating and more satisfying, albeit one that left a strong sense of what-might-have-been.

A clue to what lay behind this performance was provided by the evening’s opener, Messiaen’s L’Asscension. In its orchestral garb, this impressionistic piece is filled with many powerful and sometimes startling effects, which the Concertgebouw delivered with great range and precision, and for which, under Chung’s meticulous direction, they made about as convincing a case as would be possible.

The problem is that Bruckner’s 6th is more than just a succession of effects, however imaginatively sculpted (as are the symphonies of Nielsen, for that matter) – but that is, in essence, what we got here.