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University Centre Auditorium
March 7, 2020
"The ample heritage of both of these masters [Haydn and Mozart] was taken up by Beethoven; he matured the Symphonic art-work to so engrossing a breadth of form, and filled that form with so manifold and enthralling a melodic content, that we stand today before the Beethovenian Symphony as before the landmark of an entirely new period in the history of universal Art; for through it there came into the world a phenomenon not even remotely approached by anything the art of any age or any people has to show us."
Richard Wagner, in his "Zukunftsmusik" (first published — in French — in 1860), was writing specifically of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, which he also describes as "a revelation from another world".
Yet that revelation did not come to the composer fully-formed; the first sketches for the fifth immediately follow the completion of the "Eroica" in 1803, but before the work was complete, Beethoven had taken a couple of "minor" detours to compose, inter alia, the Fourth Symphony, the Violin Concerto and the Piano Concerto No.4.
It was with the Fifth and its famous opening notes that Christian Kluxen and the Victoria Symphony opened their complete cycle, to be given in four concerts over the next two weeks.
Kluxen clearly adheres to the modern school of thought when it comes to Beethovenian tempos — i.e. quick.
And I have no problem with this, provided, as was the case here, that it is done consistently. As Robert Simpson pointed out in his BBC monograph on the symphonies, "beware of the fool who knocks out the opening bars in a slow tempo, then tears off like a maniac from bar 6".
Kluxen is clearly neither fool nor maniac and, indeed, maintained a tight control over both tempo and dynamics throughout, although at the kind of tempo he adopted, it is very difficult to avoid at least the hint of a triplet in the opening phrase. His layout of the strings, with the second violins placed on the right, antiphonally from the firsts (as Beethoven would have expected) also helped clarify some inner detail often otherwise lost and I was particularly impressed with the sense of (barely) suppressed energy in the development.
The andante con moto (scarcely a true slow movement) was taken at a smoothly flowing tempo and featured some exquisite wind playing.
Nothing like the scherzo, with its famous bridge into the finale, had ever been heard before and Kluxen imbued an appropriate air of mystery into the opening bars. The famous cello-and-bass outburst in the trio was truly explosive and the pizzicato strings and winds in that bridge were beautifully pointed.
The finale opens up a new world of sound, with the first symphonic use of trombones, piccolo and contrabassoon, and they sounded majestic and resplendent. The symphony's final whiplash chords were so sharp one could have cut oneself on them.
Kluxen observed all the repeats, with the exception of the still controversial one of the entire scherzo and trio — and only Robert Simpson seems to have really made up his mind on this, although many have observed that to observe the repeat in the finale, as was done here, tends to unbalance the music. Sir Adrian Boult also pointed out that it is difficult to observe that repeat without avoiding a sense of anticlimax. Difficult, but as Kluxen (and Boult himself) amply demonstrated, far from impossible.
"I'll give another Kreutzer if this thing will stop!"
Such was the plaintive cry from the gallery during the first movement of the public premiere, in April 1805, of Beethoven's Third Symphony, the "Eroica".
At the time not only was the symphony the longest ever written, the opening movement was as long as many a symphony by Haydn or Mozart and, indeed, aside from the choral finale of the Ninth, it remains Beethoven's longest symphonic movement.
And yet, to modern ears, so inventive is the first movement that it never seems one second too long.
Again, Kluxen adopted a speedy tempo, resulting in a lithe, airy feel to the music. The exposition repeat was taken and the tension was maintained throughout (unlike the last time I heard the Symphony play the work: see here for more). Once more there was much attention to detail, particularly in the inner parts. And I was pleased that the spurious high trumpet notes in the coda were omitted.
The funeral march was perhaps a little too quick: Denis Mathews observes that the movement "benefits from the broadest tempo compatible with sustained intensity of line". Russell Bajer's oboe was superb here and the strings provided a rich, almost sumptuous tone. The extraordinary fugue built to a most impressive climax, with soaring horns.
In Beethoven's sketchbooks, he originally marked the scherzo as tempo di minuetto. Many modern performances tend to ignore this implied moderation of tempo and Kluxen was no exception. His scherzo was furiously energetic; the horns in the trio (and nobody had ever employed three of them in a symphony previously) were exceptionally fine.
Kluxen tore into the finale almost attacca, which may not be specified in the score, but which, to my ears, works well.
The main theme of this movement would have seemed familiar to many in the audience at the premiere, as this was the fourth time Beethoven had used it. It began as a little contredanse (WoO.14 No.7), whose theme he then used in his ballet The Creatures of Prometheus and then as the basis for the Op.35 piano variations, now known as the "Eroica" variations for precisely that reason.
As in the work for piano, Beethoven first writes variations on the (very slightly modified) bass of the theme before, in the symphony, incorporating the contredanse entire and unaltered, which then forms the basis for the variations, some of them fugal, which follow.
I admit to having been slightly taken aback when the variation immediately preceding the contredanse was played by a solo quartet of strings, something I had never encountered before and which made me wonder which edition Kluxen was using; there have been two "critical editions" published in recent years.
There were many fine touches in the movement, very weighty cellos and basses in the fugal sections, for instance, and, perhaps my favourite, the little ascending passage for the two clarinets in the middle of the march-like variation, which rarely seems to make quite the impact it should. Kluxen had the players lift their instruments so that the bells were directed at the audience rather than the floor and hence gloriously audible. A lovely detail.
The music comes to a shuddering halt and then proceeds poco andante which, far from signalling the end of the movement, actually occurs just over halfway through. Kluxen amply conveyed what Robert Simpson calls the "powerful human stress, even fear, that creeps across the music" and the hairpin dynamics were carefully observed, before the music erupted again into the presto with its final "blaze of defiance" (Simpson again) and its, on this occasion, marvellously crisp, slashing final chords.
Everybody, as Kluxen intimated in his talk before the symphony, relates to Beethoven in their own way and I trust that it is clear that not every detail of his way corresponds to mine. Nevertheless, these two finely-wrought, superbly played performances showed us precisely why Beethoven's symphonies are still the cornerstone of the orchestral repertoire and why they still, after two centuries, matter and still have much to say to us.
The next instalment, consisting of the second, fourth and seventh symphonies, is on Thursday night.
Might I suggest that you really should not miss it?
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