In 1887, an elated Anton Bruckner sent the score of his eighth symphony to his newly found champion, conductor Hermann Levi. The accompanying letter read, "To my artistic father. Alleluia! May it find grace!" Nevertheless, this immense symphony, dwarfing anything in history before it, was greeted with trepidation by the conductor. After the recent breakthrough success of the Symphony No. 7, Levi was reluctant to hurt the composer's feelings, so he sent a friend to break the news to Bruckner. The result was a nervous collapse on the part of the sensitive, self-doubting composer — and, upon recuperation, an extensive revision of the symphony. In its new form — somewhat pruned and with many dramatic new features (including a different ending to the first movement and a new trio) — the still imposing work was premiered in 1892 under Hans Richter with the Vienna Philharmonic. A more complete triumph could hardly have been hoped for. Bruckner's rival Brahms heartily joined in the long ovation, while the critic Hanslick, the bane of Bruckner's existence, fled the hall amidst jeers and hisses from the audience.Even in its revised form the work was the longest symphony on record, with a performance time of roughly 80 minutes. The stern character of the work earned it the nickname "Apocalyptic" (a subtitle which has largely fallen by the wayside), and indeed there is the impression of an eruption as the highly chromatic opening theme thunders out in the full orchestra. A complex of solemn themes unfolds, and an almost cosmic battle occurs in the development section; the recapitulation reaches an awesome climax against an obstinate brass figure; the grim, fading coda, appended in the revision, was described by the composer as a "wake."
The immense scherzo, one of Bruckner's best, is constructed around an infectious carillon-like figure, and was said by the composer to represent the German national figure "Cousin Michael." The trio is expansive and dreamlike in quality.
The following adagio is perhaps the longest in the literature and it unfolds in visions of religious ecstasy, reaching a climax similar but structurally surpassing that of the Symphony No. 7. The serenity of its coda is jarringly contrasted with the opening of the finale in which the opening urgency of the first movement returns with even greater intensity. Militant fanfares hammer out the main theme against a jabbing ostinato; a meditative second theme and a rhythmic third are worked out on a vast scale; the sudden return of the opening theme in the recapitulation is one of the most terrifying moments in all of Bruckner's music. The coda to the entire symphony is perhaps Bruckner's greatest orchestral achievement. Over a slow, inexorable build-up the main theme of each movement is reworked in a major key and played in counterpoint with the others, bringing this titanic work to an awe-inspiring close. (Wayne Gerard Reisig)
Anton Bruckner (1824 - 1896)
Symphony No.8 in C minor
1) 1. Allegro moderato [16:47]
2) 2. Scherzo: Allegro moderato - Trio: Langsam [15:05]
3) 3. Adagio: Feierlich langsam; doch nicht schleppend [26:07]
1) 4. Finale: Feierlich, nicht schnell [24:07]
Symphony No.8 in C minor
1) 1. Allegro moderato [16:47]
2) 2. Scherzo: Allegro moderato - Trio: Langsam [15:05]
3) 3. Adagio: Feierlich langsam; doch nicht schleppend [26:07]
1) 4. Finale: Feierlich, nicht schnell [24:07]
Richard Wagner (1813-1883)
2) Siegfried-Idyll [19:28]
Berliner Philharmoniker
Herbert von Karajan
1996 (Bruckner) / 1997 Polydor International GmbH, Hamburg
2 CD ADD
419 196-2 GH2
Myung-Whun Chung is one of the foremost Messiaen conductors of his generation and he is gradually making his way through recording the composer's orchestral works for Deutsche Grammophon. This release features two of the composer's most important works, Trois Petites liturgies de la Présence divine and Couleurs de la cité celeste, as well as the lesser known Hymne au Saint-Sacrement pour grand orchestre. Trois Petites liturgies, for women's voices, piano, Ondes Martenot, strings, and percussion, is one of Messiaen's most immediately appealing works. Sections of ethereal, lyrical serenity are thrown into stark relief with moments of harsh, percussive declamation. The sweetness might be cloying if it was not balanced with the brash interjections, and the juxtaposition of the elements is powerfully effecting. Couleurs de la cité celeste, for piano and orchestra (1963-1964), is by no means a piano concerto, but the composer uses the instrument to strategically augment the timbral possibilities of the orchestra. It's a spare and angular piece in which birdsong is prominently featured, and eruptions of dense activity alternate with skittering solos. Couleurs is not a piece that easily reveals its logic; it's best experienced by relinquishing expectations of understanding what is going on and just accepting its unpredictable unfolding. Messiaen wrote Hymne au Saint-Sacrement when he was in his mid-twenties, but the score was lost and he re-created it in 1946. In spite of the composer's youth the music is identifiably Messiaen's, but with a soft-hued impressionist influence also evident. Chung's performances, leading the Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France, are notable for their crisp attention to detail, as well as a deep understanding of the composer's aesthetic. That understanding gives a musicality to Messiaen's sometimes obscure logic and persuasively pulls the listener through even the spikiest passages. Chung also has a strong sense of the music's dramatic sweep; particularly in Trois Petites liturgies, the climaxes are breathtakingly elemental. Deutsche Grammophon's sound is immaculate, allowing the smallest details to be distinctly heard. (Stephen Eddins)
