The zenith of Jascha Horenstein's Bruckner recordings will always be the stupendous 1970 performances of the eighth and ninth symphonies. Astonishing in their intensity and scope, it seems almost unfair to place alongside them another performance given by the same conductor of the same composer's work. Nonetheless, this excellent BBC Legends release of Bruckner's third symphony, performed by Horenstein and the BBC Northern Symphony Orchestra and recorded at the Cheltenham Festival in 1963, possesses a great deal of the features which make those later recordings definitive.
In particular, Horenstein compellingly addresses what might be deemed the most pressing issue in Bruckner performance – how to strike the delicate balance between the sensuousness of the individual moment and the epic conception of the whole. It is this perceived lack of balance which led Heinrich Schenker, the great Viennese music theorist, to dismiss Bruckner's work on the grounds that it was simply too fragmentary. It's a pity, therefore, that Schenker never heard Horenstein in action. Time and again, the breath of each phrase is hushed to a loving whisper only to be firmly reinvigorated into the next downbeat by Horenstein's determined hand. Tempi fluctuate precisely from gesture to gesture, sweeping the listener up from the countrapuntal morass in which he languishes and carrying him forward into the next wave of sound. It is Horenstein's ability to remain true to the integrity of the moment while sensitively drawing us into the next which makes him a gifted Bruckner interpreter.
This ability is perfectly expressed by the superb first movement. The opening grows from silence like some burgeoning primeval organism only to explode in the tremendous trumpet gesture which summons the orchestra to business. Indeed, the brass of the BBC Northern are splendid throughout, particularly in the Wagner quotations which give the symphony its name – the monumental chorale in the centre of the first movement and the joyous valediction which closes the finale.
It is the frequent brass passages, however, which draw attention to perhaps the only technical failing of the recording. I can't help but feel that the passage of time and the vagaries of digital remastery have not worked in the favour of the high strings, particularly when they are pitted against the fortissimo brass. Horenstein understands that the climaxes of Bruckner's symphonies have to be loud to be effective; but the dulled sound of the top violins often blunts the otherwise transcendent slice of his baton. Nonetheless, although this feeling dogs the performance throughout, the major – Wagnerian – climaxes still manage to transport the listener through Horenstein's sheer orchestral bravura.
The opening of the second movement brings me to my only real criticism of the performance. Horenstein pushes the pace of this Adagio to such an extent that the lamenting figure which pervades the movement – and is even once marked misterioso – begins to take on the dancing lilt of the much older Sarabande. The formal and Baroque connotations of this dance seem somewhat out of place in a work which otherwise propounds the strongest possible relationship with the music of the nineteenth-century 'New' Germans. Of course, even at this fast pace, Horenstein's performance takes over 14 minutes. Perhaps we should permit Horenstein his slightly exaggerated tempo for the sake of large-scale coherence.
The third movement, with its chopped changes from violent Scherzo to folk-like Trio and back again, requires the balance between moment and whole which Horenstein has so convincingly evinced in the earlier movements. Here, however, he eschews gradual mediation between extremes, and opts instead for an outrageous oscillation between them. The vice-like rhythmic drive of the opening of the Scherzo is interrupted by a Waltz so saccharine it would make Walt Disney blush.If the severity of the distinction between the Scherzo's opening and middle sections is stronger than Bruckner intended, however, we should certainly forgive the conductor. Not only does it make for fascinating listening, but, as if to make the point, in the Trio Horenstein cuts a razor-fine line between a generic folk-like Waltz and a Ländler. In other words, he plays artistic expansiveness against insightful subtlety, and emerges triumphant.
Despite the excellence of this performance, there is little that Horenstein can do with the altogether more difficult Finale. Although certain moments stand out – the Wagner fanfare, not least – there is a sense that perhaps this movement adds up to less than the sum of its parts. Consequently, Horenstein's determination to find a greater momentum dormant within the individual phrases seems misplaced at times, and the result is a somewhat discontinuous and shaky conclusion. Given that this has never been one of Bruckner's most celebrated symphonies, though, I would hesitate to say that the fault lies with Horenstein.
The CD closes with Busoni's Tanzwalzer, a work consisting of an introduction, four numbered waltzes and a brief coda. Ultimately, the piece was incorporated into the composer's more well-known Doktor Faust. The choice of this work to close the disc is an excellent one. Not only does it enable Horenstein to show again his ability to etch delicately the distinctions between one dance form and another, we appreciate anew his skill at performing coherently works which in less-skilled hands would risk fracture.
This is a truly excellent recording of a truly masterful conductor. Although there are minor issues of sound quality, most will be more than happy to compromise when they experience the clarity and logic which Horenstein lends to Bruckner's third. Thanks to the slightly disjointed finale of the work, of course, this is not a musical experience as completely satisfying as the 1970 performances of the eighth and the ninth. Nonetheless, even if the summit of Horenstein's Bruckner remains unchallenged, there's nothing to say that we can't enjoy our time in the foothills.