Sunday, June 12, 2011

Mahler: Symphony No.1 - Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra,

Gustav Mahler
Symphony No. 1
Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, Manfred Honeck
Exton EXCL00026

.flac+.cue+.log

I don't share all of David "American-orchestras-do-it-better" Hurwitz's enthusiasm on this. And vehemently disagree with the Berliner/Wiener Philharmoniker nonsense at the beginning (excellent counter-examples from the tip of my fingers are Karajan's, Abbado's and Rattle's recordings with the Berliner and selected recordings by Abbado, Bernstein, Boulez with the Wiener). The playing and the sonics are first rate, although it might be a bit too glossy a performance for my taste. Maybe I haven't listened to the present recording enough in order to fully appreciate it.

Classics Today Rating: 10/10
In case you haven't noticed, Allegro now distributes Exton, an exciting prospect for American collectors tired of ordering direct from Japan and paying crazy prices for shipping. Conductor Manfred Honeck's credentials include a stint as a violist with the Vienna Philharmonic, not necessarily a good prospect given the fact that the orchestra only woke up to the value of Mahler when it realized it could make a quick buck playing him abroad, and otherwise has turned in more lousy and unidiomatic performances of Mahler's music than any orchestra aside from the Berlin Philharmonic. How delightful, then, to be able to report that this is unquestionably one of the great Mahler Firsts, a performance that has abundant character, ideas that work, and astounding playing, particularly from the Pittsburgh horn section.

Honeck claims that he has tried to emphasize the music's debt to Austro-Bohemian folk music, and to bring out (even exaggerate) its brilliant orchestral colors. That's exactly what he does, and it's surely the right way to go. The first movement "wakes up" naturally, atmospherically (great offstage trumpets), by imperceptible degrees, rising to a crushing climax leading to a raucous coda. The scherzo is a rustic, heavily accented, foot-stomping frenzy, while the trio has enough schmaltz to cause cardiac arrest. It works, though, because both here, in the central melody of the (splendidly parodistic) funeral march, and in the lyrical second theme of the finale, Honeck gets the strings to "float" their melodies with such gentleness, such seductively sweet vibrato (Roger Norrington please note), that the massive rubatos and hesitations work beautifully.

And speaking of the finale, the opening shriek is hair-raising, with the brass and percussion playing like demons. But it doesn't end there. If you really want to hear what a totally committed performance of this music ought to sound like, check out the entire passage after the second subject (beginning with the two tam-tam crashes), culminating in the false climax that leads back to the music of the first movement. It's insane. So too is the concluding chorale, with horns blazing--and an extra cymbal crash or two for good measure. The otherwise very quiet audience gives a rousing cheer at the end, and you will too for a fabulously recorded live performance that truly captures the freshness and daring of this work as few other versions have. If you want "you are there" sonic realism, and an interpretation that hits you right in the gut, then you must hear this. Bravo! [11/23/2009]

--David Hurwitz

Friday, June 10, 2011

Shostakovich: Symphonies Nos. 5&9 - Kreizberg, Russian National Orchestra


Dmitrij Shostakovich
Symphonies Nos. 5&9
Russian National Orchestra, Yakov Kreizberg
PentaTone- 5186 096(SACD)

.flac+.cue+.log

Shostakovich's 5th is probably the first work of the 20th century I ever fell in love with (after what still is the most memorable concert of my life, conducted by Kreizberg's brother, Semen Bychkov).

Classics Today Rating: 10/10

Kreizberg, like Sanderling, is absolutely convinced that the finale does not represent a "happy" ending. After an impressively portentous opening and a brooding central interlude, he grinds out the coda with as much relentless menace as the music can take, and then some. By the time the movement heaves its lacerated carcass through the final bars, the cessation of sound comes as a positive relief. Throughout, the Russian National Orchestra plays with 100 percent conviction, and PentaTone's sonics, whether in stereo or SACD surround, are extremely natural and well-balanced.


What makes this disc even more special is the fact that the Ninth Symphony is every bit as good. The first movement's deadpan humor comes across with perfect clarity and point. The ghostly waltz that follows has the same quiet intensity as the Fifth Symphony's Largo, while the scherzo demonstrates just how well Kreizberg has the orchestra on its collective toes. His account of the finale just might be the best on disc: he goes completely nuts in the recapitulation, with a freedom of tempo that the composer surely would have applauded, and the coda breezes by at a truly startling clip. It's at once the most hilarious as well as the most satisfying account of this movement to have appeared yet. Do not miss this release. [4/11/2007]

--David Hurwitz

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Brahms: Symphony No.3, Haydn Variations - Alsop, London Philhamonic Orchestra


Johannes Brahms
Symphony No. 3, Variations on a Theme by Haydn "St. Anthony Chorale"
London Philharmonic Orchestra, Marin Alsop
Naxos- 8.557430(CD)

.flac+.cue+.log

Brahms's third is probably my personal favourite among his symphonies. I love them all, but the third holds a special place for me, which is odd, since it's probably the least popular of the four.
This is a great version of it. It sings beautifully, with great clarity of lines and a sense of natural flow I have rarely heard in this work. Once again, David "one-caustic-review-a-day-keeps-the-doctor-away" Hurwitz proved right.

Classics Today Rating: 10/10

Marin Alsop's recordings of Brahms' first two symphonies were good, at times very good, but not great. In particular, for all her basic musicality, the performances lacked a certain element of excitement, never mind actual risk-taking. So my expectations for this Third, the toughest of them all to conduct, were not that high. After all, some really great Brahmsians, including Toscanini and Furtwängler, have really screwed up this symphony. The latter's performances especially constitute some of the most hideously embarrassing documents ever left by a theoretically great artist. Indeed, in the entire history of the work on disc, there have been perhaps seven or eight truly great performances: Walter (Sony, stereo), Levine (RCA), Wand (his first one with NDR, on RCA), Klemperer (EMI), Jochum (EMI, with this orchestra), Dohnanyi (Warner/Teldec), and perhaps most surprisingly, Solti (Decca).

To this select list, add Alsop. This is not a judgment made lightly, but this is one hell of a fine performance of this most elusive symphony, perhaps closest in character to Dohnanyi's Cleveland version. It's interesting to note the dearth of German or central European orchestras in the above list, and this fact holds a clue to Alsop's success: her ability to keep the textures from becoming too heavy, and to keep Brahms' bass lines moving. Ordinarily, and particularly in the First and Fourth Symphonies, the typically dark, rich German bass is just the ticket, but not here. This symphony, with its obvious homage to Dvorák's Fifth in the same key, and its frequent recourse to syncopated rhythms in the middle registers of the orchestra, needs as much space around the notes as is consistent with lively tempos and well-sprung rhythms.

Part of the problem is of Brahms' own making. While the last three movements offer some of his finest orchestral writing, especially for the woodwinds, the first movement often comes across as a clogged-up mess. Conductors overcompensate for the lack of audible detail by playing the music too slowly. Alsop keeps the music moving, but also clarifies the underlying rhythm quite splendidly. As an example, consider the transition from the first to the second subject, and later on, the triplet accompaniments to the finale's heroic second subject. This is very good Brahms conducting: the tension never sags, no important details go unobserved (note the nicely touched-in contrabassoon just before the recapitulation), and nothing detracts from the evolving symphonic argument.

The Andante features beautifully blended wind playing in its serene outer sections and just the right touch of mystery in the central chorale. Alsop takes great care to observe the written dynamics, a big plus in the ensuing Poco Allegretto, which sounds so much better minus the usual excess of espressivo. Best of all, the finale is spectacular: swiftly exciting, with very present timpani and a tremendously explosive (but remarkably transparent) central climax. The coda captures that special, autumnal glow that Brahms builds into the scoring, but without sacrificing sufficient momentum to bring the work to a fulfilling (as opposed to a merely exhausted) conclusion.

The Haydn Variations makes an excellent coupling, and is equally well done. Alsop's excellent command of rhythm once again is very much in evidence, particularly in the Vivace fifth variation, and even without those darker, heavier bass lines the final passacaglia builds quite effortlessly to a joyous conclusion. Vividly detailed sonics seal the deal. The truth is that very few conductors manage to do all of the Brahms symphonies equally well, which is why the modern tendency to do them in fours is such a pity. This effort bodes well for the conclusion of Alsop's cycle, but at the same time it will be a tough act to follow. I hope she can do it; in the meantime, I'm more than happy to recommend this superb new recording as strongly as possible. [1/22/2007]

--David Hurwitz

Monday, June 6, 2011

Berg: 7 Fruhe Lieder, 3 Orchesterstuecke Op.6, Der Wein - Otter, Abbado, VPO etc.


Alban Berg
3 Orchesterstuecke Op.6, 7 fruehe Lieder, Der Wein
Anne Sofie von Otter, Wiener Philharmoniker, Claudio Abbado
Deutsche Grammophon Stereo 445 846-2 GH

.ape+.cue+.log

I couldn't find a suitable review for this beautiful CD. I can't even say that I know it that well myself, apart from the 7 fruehe Lieder (7 Early Songs). Berg, Schoenberg and Webern are hard nuts to crack, for listeners (like me) without a professional training in music.
The 7 fruehe Lieder have proven, since the first time I listened to them, not only surprisingly easy to digest, but also stunningly beautiful. I'd really love it if this little bit proved as revelatory for someone else as it was for me, disclosing some of the beauties of the music of the 20th century.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Mahler: Symphony No.9 - Berliner Philharmoniker, Abbado


Gustav Mahler
Symphony No. 9
Berliner Philharmoniker, Claudio Abbado
Deutsche Grammophon- 471 624-2(CD)

.flac+.cue+.log

To me, this is an outstanding performance of (possibly) Mahler's greatest symphony. Up to you to make up your mind.

Musicweb-International

This is the last and the best of the three new Mahler recordings by Claudio Abbado and the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra that have been released by DG in 2002. I have already reviewed the Third Symphony:

http://www.musicweb-international.com/classrev/2002/July02/Mahler3_abbado.htm

and the Seventh:

http://www.musicweb-international.com/classrev/2002/Oct02/Mahler7_Abbado.htm

and now here is the Ninth. Whilst all three came out in quick succession and in uniform livery their provenance is very different. The Ninth under review was recorded from two concert performances at the Berlin Festival in September 1999. The Third came from a single concert performance in London one month later and was produced by the BBC. Both of these stayed in the DG vaults for three years before their release this year. The Seventh, on the other hand, was recorded from performances in Berlin in May 2001 towards the end of Abbado’s tenure as BPO Chief Conductor. What they all have in common, however, is that they are Abbado’s second recordings of these works. I had a lot to say about conductors revisiting earlier works on record in my review of the Seventh and in that case could see no reason why it was felt necessary for Abbado to re-record that piece. Where the Third Symphony was concerned I enjoyed and much preferred the new to the old and in the case of this Ninth I feel much the same, though it is more marginal.

Abbado has always been a fine interpreter of this symphony, itself a lucky one on record, but in this second recording I prefer a greater sense of pressing forward in strategic passages of the first and third movements especially. It makes for a slightly tougher and rather more astringent view of a work too often taken to be a long farewell and very little else. His earlier Vienna Philharmonic recording was unique in his first Mahler recordings in that it too was taken from "live" performance. However this time I think I can hear a greater sense of the "live" experience coming across and this will always find favour with me and I suspect many others. There is a price to pay for this, though. The engineers in the Philharmonie in Berlin are less sure of themselves than their predecessors were in Vienna’s Musikverein. The Berlin acoustic is very different too: less warm, more analytical, though not entirely lacking in atmosphere. The result this time brings some quirks of balance, most especially in the first movement where there is highlighting of solo instruments – harp and cor anglais especially – and what appears to be some "limiting" at climaxes where clinching fortissimos shy away a little where they should punch home. So this is a much more manipulated sound picture all through. Overall it’s a close-in balance and the feeling is that you are sitting in the stalls quite close to the platform. Yet, as the performance went on, I found that I came to value this sound picture as so much of Mahler’s inner detail is plain for all to hear with enough air behind the instruments to give perspective. So I found this sound balance surprisingly good for home listening with the caveats mentioned.

The first movement impresses with a fine unity of purpose from first bar to last and as such I think counts as a fine achievement repaying repeated listening. Even in passages where the music is just a series of fragmentary daubs you are aware of the strong symphonic undertow beneath it. So, in all, Abbado’s intellectual grasp is formidable, but I’m aware that some Mahlerites might complain that this is at the expense of emotional power to be found in recordings by other conductors like Bernstein (DG D 201182), for example, with the same orchestra, also "live" in the same hall. I would counsel caution in taking this as a minus point, though. There is a tradition in the performance of this movement that maintains a stoic face is just as valid. Klemperer is the best representative of this approach in his great EMI recording (EMI 5 67036 2) though it must be said that Klemperer’s more austere, plainer sound palette reinforces this idea and his overall tempo is slower than Abbado’s basic andante comodo. Though I think Abbado is closer to what Mahler intended. Abbado’s ability to extract a degree of sweetness in some the passages of repose, the lebwohl passages of the movement, as we might call them, make a fine counterpoise to the tougher, harsher passages where the brass snarl and the strings dig in vividly. In these passages Abbado does soften his tone, but it may take you until the end of the movement before you quite realise it has taken place, as this conductor is always careful with his contrasts which are never too sharply delineated. You have to listen hard to an Abbado performance as there is never the instant gratification of a Bernstein or a Rattle, but the dividends are maybe even greater. In the recapitulation after the great central crisis in this first movement listen to as good a summation of what has gone before as any you will hear in other recordings - beautifully argued, shorn of seedy sentimentality, very satisfying. What wonderful solo horn playing in the great duet between that instrument and the flute too. They may be highlighted by the sound balance, as indicated earlier, but with playing like this it hardly matters.

The two central movements are firstly remarkable for the stunning, virtuoso playing of the orchestra. This may be "live" but there are very few examples of insecurity in this playing. But this virtuosity is never just for its own sake. It always serves the music and Claudio Abbado’s purpose for it. The second movement scherzo reflects every colour Mahler paints it in with the close recording rendering every detail clear, woodwind especially good. Abbado observes but doesn’t force on us the three tempi markings that Mahler indicates and this may disappoint some who, as with the first movement, prefer their contrasts sharper, therefore pushing home a more emotional approach. However, after the first movement’s understatement of contrasts, this corresponding approach here fits and is another example of "through-thinking" on the conductor’s part that demands attention from the listener and therefore engages more. The listener must also do some work in Mahler too, remember. Because, just as in the first movement, where Abbado marked up a sweetness where appropriate, here in the second movement too he is aware of a gentle world-weary quality in those falling lebwohl phrases once again. Likewise in the third movement Rondo-Burleske the close recording allows for Mahler’s crucially important counterpoint to be followed accurately and so this then contrasts with the nostalgic tone of the central interlude. Abbado delivers this sweetly and simply, linking it with the lebwohl moments in the first two movements and looking forward to great elegy of the last. But it’s in the final section of the third movement where I believe Abbado justifies himself triumphantly. If this movement is ultimately about depicting a sweet world seen to be self-destructing then Abbado pulls that effect off in the way that, like Horenstein used to do, he slowly increases the tempo until at the end you are on the edge of your seat.

The last movement reflects and justifies Abbado’s overall approach in again subtly matching stoicism with a world-weariness that never descends anywhere near sentimentality. There is a deep and rich string sound that can swell out to a glorious mass and then ebb down to gossamer threads when needed. The latter especially in the intimate passages that have about them the air of chamber music with all the players listening to each other carefully. Notice also the excellent use of portamenti in the string playing here. The main climax is a paean to the entire symphony but it stays, characteristically for Abbado, within any overt grandiloquence and seems to come from within the texture. The coda is sustained beautifully too. It is never stretched on the rack as it sometimes is, always it maintains this conductor’s sharpness of focus and, I think, is unusually aware of the link to Mahler’s Kindertotenlieder.

For reference versions you must turn first to studio recordings by Haitink (Philips 50 464 714), Barbirolli (EMI 7 63115 2), Walter (Sony SM2K 64452), Klemperer (EMI 5 67036 2) and perhaps Boulez (DG 289 457 581-2). Comparable, though very different as a live recording, is Bruno Walter's first recording in 1938 (Dutton CDBP 9708) which is of equal stature to ones by Horenstein (BBC Legends BBCL 4075-2).

For me this is the best of the three new Mahler recordings from Abbado in 2002. In playing and interpretation it takes its place among the finest and I recommend it warmly.

--Tony Duggan



Classics Today Rating: 9/7

Claudio Abbado's new recording of Mahler's Ninth Symphony is at once mesmerizing and frustrating. As a performance (recorded live in Berlin in September 1999), it holds its own among the greats in the ever-growing discography of this work, with absolutely riveting, visceral playing from the orchestra in the inner movements, a conscientious eye to structural balance, and pinpoint detail in the dynamics. In a sentence, this performance has it all--except good sound.

For the most part, DG's engineers have turned a spectacular performance on stage into an uneven experience for the home. The first movement in particular suffers from what seems like "live" experimentation with balances, starting with the first three measures, when the open sound (slight hiss and all) collapses with the appearance of the harp and then re-opens with the sighing entrance in the violins.

Throughout the movement DG's predilection for close-up miking (a feature of Abbado's other DG-produced Ninth with the Vienna Philharmonic) creates an unnatural soundstage that emphasizes harp and English horn at the expense of the principal trumpet, which often is drowned out (see instances at measures 38, 232, 365, and 374, and in other places--measure 294--where it is just not prominent enough). Trombones and horns are exaggerated to the point of garishness: the apocalyptic trombone blasts at 314 peal with the force of air horns atop 18-wheelers, and the horns' raw outbursts would make for another good Maxell ad. Even the orchestra seems as if it's feeling the piece out: the "Schattenhaft" section is handled too tentatively and the slight ensemble hiccup just before the final large climax disrupts the flow of energy.

After the first-movement trial balloon, the sonic situation improves measurably in the next three movements. In the second and third, the Berliners simply play with stunning drive, and the tight miking here brings out all of Mahler's creative contrapuntal nuances. The basses barbarically growl out their staccato passages, the trombones and tuba (at 147) thrill with their crude, wild motif, and the bumptious bassoons toward the end of the movement provide great comic relief. The waltz episodes are all appropriately vulgar, and with each repeat Abbado keeps pushing the tempo, as he should. The third movement belongs to Abbado, who tailors the final section (at 522, at the tempo subito) with just the right amount of acceleration so that by the end the orchestra sounds as if it's ablaze.

Abbado's conception of the fourth movement--which some conductors have interpreted as a solemn farewell (and thus drag to the point of stasis)--nicely balances the first movement, with almost identical timings (25 minutes). He treats the final movement as a true finale, not as a symphonic fragment, and thus ties the whole of this work into a massive coherent statement. The Berliners do struggle ever so slightly with the pianissimo sections--the flute is too breathy and the strings are undernourished and a touch strident--but on the whole they deliver a passionate performance that never sounds overly sentimental or mushy. There are very few poor performances of Mahler's Ninth and many excellent ones. This is among the best. Would that it sounded better!

--Michael Liebowitz

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Mahler: Symphony No.4, Lieder eines Fahrenden Gesellen - Atlanta Symphony Orchestra, Levi

Link
Gustav Mahler
Symphony No. 4, Lieder eines Fahrenden Gesellen
Frederica von Stade, Atlanta Symphony Orchestra, Yoel Levi
Telarc CD80499

.flac+.cue+.log

Whether this is the best performance of Mahler's 4th I've ever heard, I wouldn't really know. But I bought it (influenced by David "gimme-a-period-instrument" Hurwitz) and didn't return it to the shop, give it away as a present, feed it to the neighbor's dog, or play frisbee with it.

Classics Today Rating: 10/10

There is a tendency, among both serious critics and normal listeners, to prejudge recordings of basic repertoire works when they are recorded by so-called "second tier" ensembles. The cynical inclination to dismiss such releases is only heightened by the extravagant claims sometimes made by partisans on behalf of these organizations, prime examples being the English press' flogging of the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra under Simon Rattle, or closer to home, Atlanta's endless string of Grammy wins under the competent but often dull Robert Shaw. Atlanta under Levi is another matter altogether. This partnership has been responsible for a superb series of recordings that has not received the recognition it deserves, in some part for the reasons just mentioned. This is a pity, because on any reasonably objective listen, not only is this Mahler Fourth a jewel in Telarc's series of Atlanta recordings as a whole, it's quite possibly the best-played, and definitely the best-recorded Mahler Fourth currently available. I played this disc "blind" to some European colleagues of mine, and they all agreed that this was the finest performance they had ever heard. Ever. Levi simply gets everything right: perfect tempos, incredible clarity of textures, and most importantly, a totally idiomatic response to the music itself. And what playing! From the spectacular solo winds (French horn, take a bow!), to the warmly cultured strings (save for a wonderfully nasal solo violin in the Scherzo), to the immaculately judged percussion, this is an ideal Mahler sound. Frederica von Stade's voice has deepened and darkened since she last recorded this symphony and the songs, some two decades ago, but her artistry remains undiminished. This is greatness, folks, sheer unadulterated greatness. And that's a fact!

--David Hurwitz

The Victoria Collection - The Tallis Scholars, Peter Phillips

Tomás Luis de Victoria
The Victoria Collection
The Tallis Scholars, Peter Phillips
Gimell GIMBX 304

The box contains 3 CDs and the 3 original CD booklets with notes and sung texts in English, French and German. The Download includes a digital booklet with notes and sung texts in English, French and German.


Victoria's Requiem Mass (as we now call it) has for many decades and for many people typified Spanish Renaissance music. Its mystical intensity of expression, achieved by the simplest musical means, obviously sets it apart from contemporary English and Italian music, and has led to comparisons of it with the equally intense religious paintings of Velázquez and El Greco. There is no doubt that this masterpiece conveys much of the highly individual Spanish view of religion and death, and this is the more valuable since their vision is largely unfamiliar outside Spain herself.

In fact Victoria was just one of a very substantial school of Spanish Renaissance composers; and one of the least prolific among them. Many of these deserve to be considered along with Victoria, though none wrote a Mass quite as mature as this. One possible reason for their collective lack of fame is that they travelled very little, unless it were to the New World, unlike their Netherlandish contemporaries. Victoria was lucky in this respect. Having been born in Avila in 1548 and brought up there in the tradition of Morales, Espinar and Ribera, he went to Rome, probably in 1565, to study at the Jesuit Collegio Germanico. Once there he must surely have met Palestrina, and was possibly taught by him. The subtleties of Palestrina's polyphonic idiom are regularly to be found in Victoria's music, unlike that of his Spanish contemporaries, and it gave him an extra dimension of technique when it suited him. In fact, in this Requiem there is very little imitative polyphony and the lack of it allows its Spanish flavour to speak all the more strongly. Victoria stayed in Rome until 1587 at the latest, by which time he had been ordained priest (by Bishop Thomas Goldwell, the last surviving member of the pre-Reformation English Catholic hierarchy in Rome) and had published several anthologies of his work. By the end of his life he had succeeded in publishing just about his entire output in eleven sets, most in luxurious format - a great deal more than Palestrina ever did. This six-part Requiem appeared by itself in 1605 and was the last of the series.

From 1587 until his death in 1611 Victoria was employed in Madrid, initially as chaplain to the sister of Philip II: the Dowager Empress Maria, daughter of Charles V, wife of Maximilian II and mother of two emperors. It was for her funeral in 1603 that this Requiem was written. After her death Victoria became organist to the convent where the Empress had lived. Since he was by profession almost as much a priest as a musician, it will be understood why Victoria only wrote sacred music, though it should not be assumed that it is all sombre. By his contemporaries Victoria was held to be an essentially joyful composer and there are many motets to prove this, some of them in polychoral style. In addition much of his music has quite strongly madrigalian features, with liberal use of accidentals, diminished intervals, and word-painting (witness the rising scales on 'surge' in the motet Nigra sum sed formosa, see CDGIM 003).

This recording of the six-part Requiem follows the edition prepared by Bruno Turner, published by Mapa Mundi. In his preface to this edition Mr Turner explains that the 1605 print of the music carried some extra motets and liturgical items, as was customary at that time, which would have been added in performance to the Missa pro defunctis proper. These were the four-part Taedet animam meam (the second lesson of Matins of the Dead), which has been moved to the very beginning to serve as a simple introduction; the motet Versa est in luctum, which may well have been sung as the dignitaries and clergy assembled at the catafalque before the Absolution; and the Absolution itself, for which Victoria wrote the full Responsorium, 'Libera me, Domine', with its final 'Kyrie eleison'. The only peculiarity of this print is the omission of a setting of the usual verse 'Hostias et preces' and the consequent repeat of 'Quam olim Abrahae' in the Offertorium. Although it may be possible to find a suitable chant setting of these words, and thus satisfy full liturgical demands, it is not musically convincing to do so and these words are omitted here.

All the music of this setting, except the initial Taedet animam meam, is scored for SSATTB. The second soprano part unusually carries the cantus firmus, though it very often disappears into the surrounding part-writing since the chant does not move as slowly as most cantus firmus parts and the polyphony does not generally move very fast. Victoria himself printed most of the unaccompanied chant incipits, though the editor has provided the short second 'Agnus Dei' and the final 'Requiescant in pace'. This scoring also holds true for Alonso Lobo's beautiful setting of Versa est in luctum, which was written for the funeral of Philip II of Spain, the brother of the recipient of Victoria's own setting. Lobo (1555-1617) was widely held to be the finest composer in Spain during his lifetime, and there is evidence that Victoria thought so too.
© 1987 Peter Phillips



The Lamentations of Jeremiah

The Spanishness of Spanish polyphony is often invoked. There is an impression that in their worship the Spanish have a fierceness, coupled to a mysticism, which sets them apart. This way of thinking was current a long time ago: Michelangelo, when asked by the Florentine painter Pontormo how he could best please a Spanish patron, replied that he should 'show much blood and nails'. Such rawness has readily been attributed to their music, too.

My experience is that only Victoria's music has quite this special intensity of feeling to it, and then only in his six-voice Requiem and music for Holy Week. But it is this intensity, in the end, which makes him so distinctive, not only in the wider European context but also amongst his compatriots. Of all the great High Renaissance composers, Victoria's writing can have the most immediately identifiable atmos­phere. And in the purely Spanish context his greatest achievements cannot easily be confused with those of Lobo, Guerrero, Vivanco, de las Infantas, Esquivel, Navarro, even Morales, though the works of these men may be confused with each other. The question is how he achieved this unique atmosphere.

The irony is that Victoria, like Morales before him, spent many of his formative years (from 1565 to about 1587) in Rome studying the international style which the Flemish had brought there, and which Palestrina was in the process of bringing to new heights of perfection just at that time. In general his compositions from this period do not show anything very unusual - for example his wonder­fully sonorous six-voice motets often sound like very good Palestrina. The opening of his Vidi speciosam is so like the opening of the older master's Tu es Petrus as to seem like a deliberate act of homage. They both set Dum complerentur in a similar idiom. Yet the story of the Lamentations is suggestive: they were finally published in 1585, right at the end of Victoria's time in Rome; but there is an earlier manuscript copy of them in the Sistine Chapel Library (I-Rvat 186) which contains them in an earlier version. In this they are longer, less carefully organized harmonically, and less poignant in their setting of the texts. Before he allowed them to be published, Victoria had carefully revised every phrase. His 'Spanish' style was worked out in Rome.

The 1585 publication, known as the Officium Hebdomadae Sanctae, included all Victoria's music for Holy Week: these nine Lamentations, the eighteen Responsories, two Passions and a number of other pieces. It is all of a plangent austerity which, when put alongside his six-voice Requiem of 1605, has long been held to represent Victoria and his Spanishness at its most typical and best. In fact it is only part of the story, since even when he had returned to Spain to become a priest (by 1587 at the latest) he wrote music in other idioms - including one of the most outward-going compositions of the period, the Missa Pro Victoria, based on battle noises - which was just as typical of him and perhaps Spain. But the style of the Holy Week music is particularly telling, almost defying analysis. For example much of it is not properly polyphonic. The underlying harmony is still as simple as it always was in sixteenth-century music, yet seems to have gained a new tension in the way Victoria used it. And the melodies that come from it are elemental, wrapped round the words, striding up and down with incredible purpose. There is not a note wasted - and yet this is still art music, not pared down for congregational use. Victoria had achieved his own match of function and expressivity.

Since the Holy Week services were the most dramatic and darkest in the Church's year, Victoria's expressivity was given full range. The nine Lamentations were composed for the first Nocturn at Matins on the Thursday, Friday and Saturday of this seminal week, three for each service. The famous Responsories were written for the second and third Nocturns of each service. Each of these three services had three Nocturns in which three Lessons and three Responses were interwined. For some reason, possibly because there would simply have been too much music, Victoria set the Lessons (the Lamentations) for the first Nocturn and the Responses for the second and third Nocturns, but not both.

Victoria clearly intended his nine Laments to be heard as an overall musical experience which, however effective across three days of liturgy, makes them ideal for a recording. As they proceed the number of voices gradually increases, with the final 'Jerusalem' section always expanding the scoring, so that there is a crescendo not only within each Lament but within each set of three, and then over the nine. Most of the nine start with a four-voice section, normally leading to a five-voice 'Jerusalem'. However the third Lament on both Thursday and Friday starts in five and ends in six; and the third Lament on Saturday starts in six and ends in eight. A feature of this process is that the amount of counterpoint does not increase, so Victoria's chords simply become more monumental. By the time we reach the eight-voice section, which is partly for double choir, the effect is deeply impressive.

The 'Jerusalems' are a culmination of every section and sub-section, with the slightly unusual detail that in some of the Laments (but not all) Victoria has set these words twice, the second version scored for more voices than the first. Arguably they should not both be sung, but since there is no firm evidence as to why the composer provided two, we decided not to leave anything out. I also specifically asked the singers to produce a more forthright tone for the body of the text - where the prophet complains so bitterly about the fate of the holy city - as compared with the 'Incipits', the Hebrew letters and the 'Jerusalems' themselves.

Juan Gutiérrez de Padilla (c.1590-1664) is the best-known representative of the Spanish school of composers in Mexico. Born in Málaga, he was employed as a church musician firstly in Jerez de la Frontera and then in Cádiz before moving to New Spain no later than the autumn of 1622. On 11 October he was named cantor and assistant Maestro at Puebla Cathedral with an annual salary of 500 pesos, at a time when this Cathedral boasted a musical establishment on a par with the best in Europe. In 1629 Padilla became Maestro de Capilla, a post he retained until his death. His six-voice setting of the Lamentations is one of his finest achievements, employing an impassioned musical language which is spiced up with the augmented intervals beloved of every Iberian composer of note in the early seventeenth century, Portuguese as much as Spanish. The reduced-voice section at 'Ghimel', followed by the verse 'Migravit Judas', is a classic case of this. I have never elsewhere come across the astonishing harmonic move he makes at 'inter gentes'. The fact that this set is scored for SSATTB points to the influence of Victoria and other Spaniards, who tended to favour this line-up in six parts. Victoria's seminal setting of the Requiem is scored like this. Quite why it was thought appropriate to use such a potentially bright sound for Requiems and Laments is one of the many mysteries of the Spanish school.
© 2010 Peter Phillips


The Tenebrae Responsories, along with the six-voice Requiem, are responsible for setting the modern impression of Victoria as a composer. The introverted, spiritually intense mood of both these masterpieces has appealed to modern ears, promoting the almost indelible association between Victoria, St Teresa (who, like Victoria, was born in Avila), Velazquez and El Greco. Although Victoria was capable of other moods, shown for instance in his 'battle' Mass Pro victoria, the joyful double-choir Psalm-settings and settings of the sensuous love poetry of the Song of Songs texts, the Responsories encapsulate something uniquely valuable in his art. This has much to do with an extreme simplicity and directness of style.

The publication which contains these eighteen Responsories first appeared in Rome in 1585 under the official title, as it then was, of Officium Hebdomadae Sanctae. It consists of considerably more than the Responsories, since Victoria set not only the nine Lessons from the Lamentations of Jeremiah the Prophet but hymns, motets, the Reproaches, the two sets of Passion choruses and other music from Palm Sunday to Holy Saturday. Taken together, these pieces represent the most complete cycle of music for Holy Week by any leading Renaissance composer. Gesualdo set all the Responsories (at considerably greater length than Victoria), but none of the Lamentations. Lassus set the same Responsories and the nine Lamentations, and Palestrina composed five sets of Lamentations but no Responsories. It is interesting to observe that settings of the Lamentations have received more concert performances than have settings of the Responsory texts. This must have something to do with the strict liturgical structure of the latter and the resulting impression that a concert is not quite the right place for them. They are well represented in recordings, however, where one may listen to them as they were intended to be heard, in three separate groups, one each for Thursday, Friday and Saturday of Holy Week.

Originally, on these seminal days of the Church's year, the Responsories were sung early in the morning during Matins which was followed by Lauds. Later, these Offices together became called Tenebrae and were performed during the evening of the preceding day. In this service, the only light in the church came from a triangular stand holding fifteen candles (representing the eleven faithful apostles, the three Marys, and Christ), and from six candles on the altar. As each Psalm was chanted, a candle was extinguished, so that after the fourteenth Psalm only the highest candle (which represented Christ) was still burning. During the concluding recitation (the Canticle of Zachary) the six candles on the altar were also put out one by one until, as the Office of Lauds drew to a close, the only candle which was still burning was concealed behind the altar; thus the church was left in tenebris - in darkness. The rite symbolized both the darkness which covered the earth as Christ was crucified, and his burial. After the closing prayers the worshippers made a certain amount of noise to represent nature in turmoil at the death of Christ. Once the noise had died away, the remaining candle was brought out from behind the altar (a sign of the resurrection), returned to the stand and extinguished.

The Tenebrae Matins was divided, on each day, into three Nocturns, each of which required the singing or reciting of three Lessons alternated with three Responsories. The Lessons for the First Nocturn on each day are from the Lamentations. Victoria set these but not the Responsories. In the Second and Third Nocturns of each day Victoria did the opposite and set the Responsories, leaving the Lessons to be chanted by a deacon. Since Victoria wrote the music to adorn the Liturgy, he kept strictly to the repeats prescribed by tradition, which this recording preserves: a repetition of the second section of the opening four-part music after the reduced-voice passage, giving a kind of da capo shape: ABCB. This happens in all eighteen pieces. In addition, in the third of each set, the opening section is repeated again at the end: ABCBAB. In this scheme the A and B passages are invariably scored for four voices, while section C is always for fewer voice-parts, and sung by soloists. The detail of the scoring shows how carefully Victoria kept to a plan. The first and third of each group of three Responsories are set for SATB, the second for SSAT (we do not follow the unauthorized modern habit of singing some of these with men's voices only). The reduced-voice passages are scarcely less ordered, all being for three voices, except the first one which is a duet. In almost every case the solo group in the first Responsory of each set of three is scored for SAT, the third is scored for ATB and the second makes use of the extra soprano part in the full choir, resulting in SSA or SST. This precise scheme serves as a simple framework for the emotional variety in the music.

Part of the clue as to how Victoria achieved this variety lies in the details of the Passion narrative. For a late Renaissance composer, albeit one who never wrote any madrigals, the story gives unlimited opportunities for different kinds of word-painting, as well as describing states of mind which vary from the supremely tragic to the contemplative. How Victoria encompassed these differences in an idiom so straightforward that it scarcely touches on imitative counterpoint is one of the great miracles of musical thought. With complete assurance, he describes the innocence of the lamb at the beginning of 'Eram quasi agnus'; the swords and clubs of 'Seniores populi'; the lugubrious darkness of 'Tenebrae factae sunt'; the lion during 'Animam meam dilectam'; the intense distress in 'O vos omnes'. At the same time he is capable of writing passages of the most inspired music, without any obvious help from the text: consider the solo section of 'Iesum tradidit impius' which does no more than mark time in the narrative yet, with its two answering soprano parts, is perhaps the most memorable section of all.

The power of Victoria's Tenebrae Responsories lies in the balance between the words and his setting of them. The text has its own impact, which may be discovered by reading it aloud. Victoria started from this point, being careful to capture the natural speech rhythms, keeping to syllabic setting (and so never indulging in the early Renaissance delight of music for its own sake); and then heightened the meaning of a verbal phrase with the right turn of harmony or fragment of melody. This pared-down musical idiom, unfamiliar to composers before the late sixteenth century, was lost again during the Baroque period. It has become once again a goal for composers during the twentieth century; but, attractive as the idea of an elemental style has proved to be for many, to express oneself clearly requires complete certainty about what one has to say. Victoria remains a model for them all.

Peter Phillip 1990