Of course, having symphonies 6, 7 and 9 to play with is always going to be as much of a bonus as it is a challenge – but it’s an advantage that Savall rams home without fear of failure. The key lies in his tempi, both in terms of pace and precision. Compared for example, to the von Karajan cycle from 1962, Savall is three minutes slower in the Second and Fifth, well over six minutes slower in the Sixth and Seventh. That extra time around notes and particularly around phrases, along with the smaller instrumental numbers involved, allows tonal textures to emerge, contrasts to develop, underlined by the greater articulation and agility that results from Savall’s command of this smaller, tighter forces. That space, colour and dynamic vitality illuminate the music from within, shrugging off the glowering darkness and brooding, frowning brow that seems to set the tone of so many Beethoven recordings. It’s never more obvious than in the dramatic contrasts of the programmatic Sixth, or the incisive vigour and purpose of the Seventh. Kleiber’s live performance on Orfeo (C 700 051 B) might still set the standard for the latter, but Savall’s poise and rapier like precision comes awfully close and certainly eclipses Kleiber’s studio recording on DGG (471 6302 GSA).
Nor is Savall a one-trick pony, adapting his orchestration and approach to circumstances. His pace and precision bring an entirely new sense of shape, structure and purpose to the often problematic Eighth – an approach he’s already deployed in a revelatory (at least for me) Fourth. But it is in the Ninth that that flexibility and inherent musicality is really driven home. Without the numbers to deliver the traditional, pile-driver approach to this monster work, but with the artistic challenge presented by its sheer certitude, Savall leans on the pace, coming in a full three minutes quicker than HvK! He uses that attack and drive to underpin a purposeful reading that nevertheless manages to deliver more layers and greater nuance than the alternatives. The singing might lack the scale and bravura quality of the big name soloists on the big name cycles, but his handling of the vocal parts is beautifully deft (he was, after all, married to Montserrat Figueras and daughter Arianna is no slouch). The parts themselves are sung in a far more personal and intimate fashion. In fact, so burdened has this piece become by the weight of nationalism and expectation that it’s a pleasure (and a relief) to have this more direct, less ponderous and more personal reading.
“Which Beethoven cycle?” has been a perennial question amongst record collectors the world over. Every candidate seems to have at least one flaw to counteract its appeal. Karajan’s 1962 set is exemplary in so many ways – except that the Sixth is a bizarre travesty and if you are playing the records, you’ll need a Teldec curve to hear them properly. Klemperer ‘s tempi are slow and Haitink’s excellent performances are handicapped by disastrous recording quality. Norrington’s period instrument outing is as typically exciting as it is eclectic (even eccentric). But for me, for now, that question has been put to bed.
