Bruckner’s Ninth
I have written in detail about the Oslo Philharmonic’s recordings of the Tchaikovsky symphonies, which were eventually released on the Chandos label during the 1980s. They still stand the test of time, and sound as fresh as they day we recorded them. They were supposed to lead to a much more open-ended contract with the firm, something that did not transpire due to the orchestra’s signing of a 14-record deal with EMI at the end of 1986.
What did transpire was the opportunity to make two non-Tchaikovsky recordings with Chandos. The first was a recording of the Ninth Symphony of Anton Bruckner, with a completed Finale by musicologist William Carrigan, and the uncompleted sketches. The other recording took place after we changed labels, and was part of the orchestra’s 70th anniversary celebration. It was nothing less than a recording of Gustav Mahler’s “Resurrection” Symphony. More about that later in this post.
Anton Bruckner (1824-1896) composed eight completed symphonies (not counting the Symphony No. 0) and had mostly finished work on three movements of a ninth. At the time of his death, he was working on sketches for a fourth movement, but died before he could get to the point of connecting them in any coherent form. William Carragan, a noted musicologist who also worked on the composer’s second symphony, took the sketches and made a what I call a working version of the sketches with enough connecting material to make it viable as a sort of fourth movement. Most of the material was by the composer, most of it from earlier works.
The first performance of the Carragan version of the fourth movement took place in Carniegie Hall, with the American
Bruckner Ninth
Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Moshe Atzmon, and the first European performance was given by Hubert Soudant and the Utrecht Orchestra and was subsequently recorded.
Chandos apparently was interested in making their own recording of the finale, and as the Bruckner Ninth had recently been performed by the Oslo Philharmonic the previous season under the direction of Yoav Talmi, (at that time a frequent guest conductor), they reasoned that this would be a good opportunity to record the entire symphony, plus provisional finale and sketches.
Preparations were made, and Chandos asked James Burnett to supervise the recording, aided by staff from the NRK. A week was allotted to the project in which Yoav Talmi rehearsed the orchestra in the entire work plus additions during the first two days and the rest of the week was allotted to recording, if memory serves.
The only percussion instruments called for in the symphony are timpani, so I was once again on my own for the sessions.
The orchestra had just taken delivery of a pair of Light Metropolitan Bs, sizes 26 inch and 29 inch. These were the first drums in a series of purchases that would eventually completely replace the Ludwigs that had served the orchestra as a second set up until this time. They were equipped with Remo insert ring hazy heads, which were much easier to clear than the standard extended collar heads of that era. I was anxious to work them in, so for the month of September 1985 (which is when we recorded the Bruckner), I paired them with a 31 inch Hinger on the low end, and a 25 inch Hinger at the top. I only needed the 25 inch for an e-flat in the first movement and wanted to avoid pedaling up to e-flat on the new Light 26 inch as I was still working the drum in.
There are several versions of the first three movements of the Ninth, and in our performances of the work under Yoav Talmi the previous season, I discussed some additions to the timpani part made by Bernard Haitink and his timpanist Jan Labordus in their recording for Phillips (The recording I am referring to is actually the second that they made with the Concertgebouw Orchestra). This concerns the addition of low Ds in the coda played by a second player to emphasize the rhythm of the brass and winds, while the principal player played the pedal D roll. This was a compromise between the Salk version, which had the rhythms hammered out on the normal d, with rolls interspersed, and the version that is played today, which uses just the pedal D in the coda (all rolling). After discussion with
Yoav Talmi
Yoav, my assistant and I played it a-la-Haitink in concert. At the time, Yoav liked it. However, in discussions before we undertook the recording sessions, he decided to stick to the normal practice of playing only the pedal D. I guess he figured what was interesting in performance would not necessarily translate onto disc, but I think money played a part. I mean, why hire a second player if it is really not called for in the present edition, which we were using. It was too bad for my colleague, as he could have earned some extra cash, and too bad for me, as I could have used the company.
The sessions themselves went very well, and while we were not an Austrian or German ensemble raised on Bruckner’s music, I thought we did remarkably well. The orchestra strove hard to deliver the extra sonority and gravitas that the piece demands, and the finale and sketches were well-received by members of the orchestra.
In hindsight, I wish I used one grade softer mallets for the opening of the first movement. I was so concerned with getting a clear articulation that I forgot that the opening required some bloom on the opening notes. Hence, it isn’t as round as I’d like. I was using Feldman blues at the time, and probably should have used greens instead. The blues were great for the scherzo, but in hindsight, a little too thin for the opening of the symphony. I was happier with the rest of the symphony. They say hindsight is better than foresight, and while I played well enough, I wish we recorded the work after we converted to calf heads. That would have given a bit more bloom to the tone. Nonetheless, it was a good learning experience, and I was glad to have taken part in such an interesting recording project.
Here is a you tube clip of some of the sketches for the Bruckner 9th finale:
Mahler Two
The Oslo Philharmonic celebrated its 70th anniversary season during the 1989-90 concert season. Mariss Jansons programmed the Second Symphony of Gustav Mahler for the actual anniversary concerts, which were scheduled for November, 1989. It was the desire of both Mariss and the administration to commemorate the occasion with a recording of the symphony. The question was, which company would undertake the task of recording such a large work which requires a very large orchestra (including a large percussion section with two timpanists, four
Mahler Two
percussionists, offstage winds, brass and percussion, plus organ, chorus and soprano and contralto soloists. We were into the third year of our 14-disc contract with EMI, but the Mahler was not in their recording plans for us, so we had to look elsewhere. We had disappointed Chandos two seasons earlier by signing the EMI deal, so at first glance there seemed little hope of asking them if they would be interested. However, inquiries were made and Chandos surprised us by agreeing to make the recording with James “Jimmy” Burnett once again leading the recording team, which was again made up of our excellent NRK engineers.
The plan was to record the symphony the week following the actual concerts, using the Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of that week for the sessions. Jimmy Burnett would do a lot of the balancing with the NRK engineers during the actual concerts, as it would save a lot of prep time the following Monday when it came to start recording. The concerts served as reference material for the finished recording.
The orchestra was very much looking forward to the performances and recording. The orchestra was to be joined by the Oslo Philharmonic Chorus, which was undergoing a change of leadership at the time, although still very, very good. They were to be augmented for the occasion by the Latvian State Academic Choir, which hailed from Mariss’s native city of Riga. Soloists were to be Felicity Lott, soprano, and Julia Hamari who would undertake the contralto role. Bjørn Bøysen, at the time the Konserthuset’s organist, would preside at the console if the hall’s 85 rank pipe organ.
Christian Berg was by this time the principal percussionist, having assumed his post officially in August of 1989, and was assisted by Per Erik Thorsen, the former principal percussionist who stepped down from that position in 1987 to take the role of section percussionist. Other percussionists included Bjørn Løken, and Einar Fjærvoll. My assistant, Trygve Wefring took up his position as second timpanist, and the offstage percussion was played by Terje Viken and Joakim Nordim for the concerts, and Morten Belstad replacing Terje for the recording.
By this time, the orchestra had completely replaced the Ludwig timpani with a set of four Light Metropolitan Bs, plus a 31 inch Light Continental Chain drum. It was decided between Trygve and myself that he would have all 5 Lights to himself – since he had a lot of the lower register in his part. I had all four Hingers, and the beautiful thing about this particular set-up was that all of the drums were equipped with calfskin heads, which improved the sound of the instruments dramatically.
The concerts went off swimmingly. The Norwegian King and Queen were in attendance at the first along with the Prime Minister and other officials. After the Friday concert, the orchestra was treated to an anniversary banquet at the Grand Hotel, where we all celebrated the orchestra’s 70th birthday. It was there that in talking with
Anniversary Concert
Jimmy Burnett, who was our recording producer for this and many other projects in the past and who was seated next to me at dinner, that he was feeling a bit under the weather and less than himself, although he was enjoying the festivities. He soldiered on manfully throughout the recording sessions, and it came as quite a shock to us all when he heard of his passing in May 1990 of cancer. Apparently, he was feeling the first manifestations of it during this period.
Earlier in 1989, the orchestra had purchased quite a bit of percussion equipment from Kolberg Percussion of Uhingen, Germany. Among the purchases were a new set of chimes plus deep chimes, and large and small Wuhan tam tams. From a bell factory in the nearby community of Tønsberg, the orchestra had purchased a pair of church bells, tuned to C and G, which had (and still does) a very clear pitch and great carrying power, as good church bells should. For this occasion, they rented a low E-flat as well (the orchestra later purchased that as well). In addition, triangles, stands, and stools were purchased from Kolberg, which also specializes in that sort of equipment.
So, equipment wise we were in good shape when it came time to perform and record the Mahler. After the successful anniversary concerts on the Thursday and Friday, it was time to get to work and put the whole symphony on record.
The sessions began on the Monday following the concerts, and would encompass three four-hour sessions, ending on the Wednesday. Mariss had determined on beginning with the final movement first, as that required all of the forces Mahler scored for. I remember recording the opening of that movement vividly. It begins with a wild explosion from the orchestra, with both timpanists pounding away on the note C, playing articulated notes against a background of a massive outburst of instrumental sound. We played it well enough, but in listening to the playback, Mariss was not satisfied with the articulation, and as a solution I applied a small felt muffler to the center of the 28 inch drum, as did Trygve with his Light drum, but though it helped, it wasn’t enough to satisfy our exacting leader, and I remember listening to the playback and agreeing with him. The solution that we adopted was that I play the opening bars of that movement (with the timpani suitably partially muffled), and Trygve would come in after those bars were completed. The resulting recording is clear – you can her much of the articulation, and at least it worked. The rest of the movement went very well. Trygve and I made a change in a solo passage involving him. This occurs the fifth and six bars after Rehearsal 21, where the second player has a B flat, followed by an F, the dynamic here is piano. After much discussion and checking the score, we amended the F to a low E-flat, which we felt fit the tonality better. Now, you may ask, who were we lowly minions to gainsay Mahler? I thought about that, but felt at the time and continue to feel that both of us made the right call there. The F doesn’t sound bad, but it sounds slightly out of place. I have since played the second part on several occasions and played the E-flat.
During the final movement, the first timpanist’s part is silent for a stretch (here, the player goes offstage to play the offstage timpani part of “Der grosse Apell” after Rehearsl 29 on the note C sharp. Since the offstage instruments were placed in a corridor below the stage, it was not practical for me to leave my position and get there in time without a lot of fuss and bother ( I would be doing it openly instead of discreetly, and it would look funny) we had an extra covering that position. It did leave me free to assist my colleague Bjørn Løken, who was playing the church bells. When he played them, it was my job to stand by him and when he was finished to assist in muffling them, this reducing the chance of them sounding for longer than necessary. Bjørn also assisted me when it came to play the third timpanist’s part at Rehearsal 20. He actually played the second part which had the F notation, where Trygve took the third par which is notated D flat and A. I had the B flat and high F, and tuned up the 31 inch to F so all Bjørn had to do was walk over and play his F rolls at that point.
We finished the movement in the course of the Monday, and the chorus and organist left us to do the rest of the symphony over the span of the following Tuesday and Wednesday. I had some hours free when they began recording the fourth movement, “Urlicht” on Tuesday morning. Mariss had the offstage brass and winds in the corridor under the stage, which was very atmospheric in concert, and the effect on disc is also atmospheric, but on some stereo equipment, especially if it is not up to audiophile standards, it can be difficult to hear.
The rest of the symphony went without a hitch. I used both Hinger aluminum greens, reds, and blues, plus Andrew Feldman generals (green), blues, and medium hards. The blues came in handy for the end of the first movement, with all the triplets on the C and G timpani.
Looking Back
In looking back, both recordings from a musical standpoint still sound very well. While thirty years have passed since we recorded the Bruckner, and about 28 years since it was released on Chandos, I feel that it was a very good interpretation and was a good way to let the musical world hear a version of what Bruckner might of accomplished had he lived longer. It would have been different no doubt, but in my opinion not all that much different. I felt then and still feel that Mr. Carragan had a good sense of Bruckner’s music, and a feel for the sound world he inhabited, much the same as Deryck Cooke had for Mahler in his version of the 10th Symphony. Chandos released it in two editions: a single disc of the three movements as completed by the composer; and a two disc version with the completed finale and sketches.
Listening to the Mahler at a remove of 25 years, I am still utterly convinced of the validity of Mariss’s interpretation. It is well paced, and well thought out, and I remember a review of the recording when it was re-released in the late 1990s. The reviewer was most positive, and called it one of the most under-rated recordings of the symphony. Having recorded it as an anniversary gesture for the orchestra, we knew it was going to be hard going against the likes of Bernstein, Solti, Haitink, Kubelik, et.al, but it was an education for us and an honor and a privilege.
Here is a link to the Mahler 2nd recording:
For those of you interested in the timpani and percussion parts, click on the link below.
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