Having noticed in recent reviews that the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra had tinkered with their strings layout, I was keen to get along to a concert to see and hear how it was working out in practice.
For those readers not familiar with my blog posts, I am a nerdy student of orchestral layouts and a proselytiser for the use of antiphonal violins. As far as conducting is concerned, these matters are hardly unimportant though there are seemingly some practitioners who do little to demonstrate their engagement with them.
Anyway, I gathered that the CBSO had relocated their double bass section from the right hand side of the stage (conductor's view), behind the celli, to the rear of the stage. This change can be illustrated (very roughly) as follows:
The concert I caught, conducted by Edward Gardner, featured a programme of Mozart and Elgar. For the Mozart, the smaller double bass section (represented by 'CB' in the diagrams above) remained on the right behind the celli. For the Elgar, featuring the full section of eight basses, the new formation was adopted.
Theoretically, this layout makes very little sense to me. Having rear-ranged basses like this is actually ideal as far as I am concerned, though my own orchestra has too few basses to make this a practical possibility. However, this is in the pursuit of making the bass the foundation of the orchestral sound, upon which everything else is built. As such, one would also ideally locate the celli in the centre of the sound picture and stage. This can either be centre-left (as Boult favoured) or centre-right (as Monteux favoured). If one is to follow this to the logical conclusion then the bassoons would be situated on the same side as the celli and the bass brass instruments would be situated more centrally also. My own hypothesis is that locating the celli on the same side as the horns creates the added benefit of underlining their melodic role in Romantic music when playing in unison.
Returning to the new CBSO layout, the bass sound would be expected to lose focus with the celli on the right and their bass colleagues disconnected and relocated to the rear of the stage. This was, indeed, the case in practice. Though the writing for celli and basses became more and more independent through the late Classical and Romantic periods, their co-ordination is still of great importance. At one stage in the concert I attended I saw a front desk cellist, seemingly vexed, straining to see his bass colleagues in order to co-ordinate simple unison pizzicato notes. Of course, when basses are situated behind the celli the latter cannot look at their bass colleagues in order to do this. However, the opposite is certainly possible and the two sections would tend to move as one in that telepathic way that cannot be fully explained in rational terms.
The CBSO previously had a focused and punchy bass sound in their previous formation, even if I did not approve of it being located away from the centre of the orchestra. I feel this was compromised in their new formation. I do hope that the new formation is a mere experiment and that they will either revert to their previous layout or, even better, consider going the whole hog and relocating their cellos to the middle of the orchestra where they can be reconnected with their bass colleagues whilst allowing the violins to be arranged how Elgar would have expected them to have been.
Saturday, 22 February 2014
Saturday, 8 February 2014
Having attended the corresponding 'Mendelssohn in Birmingham' concert, I was eagerly awaiting this release by the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra under their Principal Guest Conductor (and possibly next Music Director, according to me and others), Edward Gardner.
It is an exciting prospect for a number of reasons. One of which is the fact that the CBSO, arguably, hasn't been recorded in its own right for a major record label for quite a number of years now. It certainly hasn't been recorded by Chandos for a long time. And so what a treat to hear them recorded with such splendid engineering! However, the recorded sound turns out to be both a blessing and a curse.
Now, the field of Mendelssohn symphony cycles is not a desperately crowded one (Abbado's 1980s LSO set was my favourite for a long while) and the first thing to say is that few people will be disappointed by these energetic and zesty performances of the 4th and 5th symphonies (coupled with the Hebrides overture). The 'Italian', in particular, is characterised by a welcome drive. The inner movements move forward, as they should, with tasteful shaping of phrases just as I remember from the live performances that accompanied these studio recordings. This 'Italian' is superb.
The 'Reformation' is actually the second of the full orchestral symphonies that Mendelssohn composed - a fact that aids the listener's understanding of the piece as well as helping explain why it doesn't quite hang together as well as the composer's later works, though its more experimental features are deliciously inventive. In view of this, the work really needs a good advocate, as Gardner proves to be here. The finale, with its working out of a hymnal theme, is particularly thrilling as Gardner injects fresh energy into each new section. My own taste is for a less swift tempo in the Scherzo but that would be my only complaint from an interpretative point of view. This movement really is one of Mendelssohn's most delightful and louche, even, in the Trio section.
The overture is also thrillingly executed though I doubt the composer himself would approve of the less than subtle tempo changes liberally applied where none are marked in the score, but that is neither here nor there. This performance will appeal to most, I daresay.
What of the orchestral, and recorded, sound? The disc had me turning to its main competition in this field, Andrew Litton's cycle with the Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra, curiously enough whose music directorship is to be taken on by Gardner in 2015. Though there is little difference in the interpretations, the difference in orchestral and recorded sound is significant. Firstly, the renowned Chandos reverb ensures that the Birmingham Town Hall acoustic is as anonymous as any of their other recording venues, though doubtless the acoustic did not hinder the sound terribly, accommodating and spacious as it is. Prominence is given to the martial trumpets, horns and timpani as well as the strings, meaning that the 'middle range' of woodwind is difficult to make out in the tutti sections. This is a shame, as Mendelssohn's orchestration really is quite delightful in these works. You'd be hard pressed to identify the orchestra, too, aside perhaps from Peter Hill's characteristically enthusiastic and thrilling timpani flourishes! I hope it's not too cruel to say that the sound of the orchestra conforms to the brilliant but anonymous standards of the label's flagship Royal Scottish National Orchestra of the 1980s and 90s.
The Bergen Philharmonic have the benefit of a rather more characterful wind section (those tangy bassoons, in particular!), which are ever-present in the recorded blend, and antiphonal violins. I can't emphasise the importance of the latter in this music enough. Now, Mr Litton is not one to arrange them as such regularly but he must have realised that for his Mendelssohn recordings to be competitive nowadays they'd need this arrangement to aid contrapuntal and fugal clarity. Curiously, Mr Gardner used to arrange his violins thus earlier in his career. I do hope that he does not feel afraid to institute this with the orchestras he works with now and in the future. Finally, the BIS sound is a little flatter and drier, which does seem to suit the music a little better than Chandos's resonance but this will be a matter of personal taste.
I suspect that this series will represent an important addition to the Mendelssohn discography and it is thrilling enough on its own terms, so I would not hesitate to recommend it. However, Litton's cycle remains the modern benchmark for me and I'd urge you to have both in your collections.