Simon Rattle: The Berlin Anthology on Warner

All does not seem to be well in the Warner Classics garden where the new box set of the recordings that Simon Rattle made with the Berlin Philharmonic are concerned. I first learned about this anthology about a month ago and had no trouble acquiring a “press copy” of the 45-CD collection. Finding evidence of the album on the Web was another matter.

When I first received the box, the only evidence I could find was on the Web site for Presto Music, which gave the release date as April 12. However, Presto is based in the United Kingdom, making it unclear how (if at all) they would account for both price and shipping to customers in the United States. Fortunately, as of today, the box is available for purchase from Collectors’ Choice Music. According to their Web page, the item is on backorder; but it is available for purchase with an expected delivery date of June 7. Meanwhile, the only sign of the collection on Amazon.com is an MP3 Web page offering 76 tracks (far from the total number) for download. In the immortal words of Kurt Vonnegut, “So it goes!”

In any event, now that Collectors’ Choice has provided a useful site (even if it will require more than a modicum of patience), I feel I can begin to provide readers an account of the content of this second significant Rattle anthology. Readers probably know by now I like to divide the large quantities in box sets into “mind-sized chunks,”  usually based on historical periods. In this case there will be only three of those “primary” chunks: the First Viennese School, the nineteenth century, and the twentieth century. However, the last of those chunks is also the largest. As a result, I have chosen to subdivide it into what I have decided would be a viable set of categories:

1. Mahler
2. Schoenberg and Stravinsky
3. French
4. Russian
5. United Kingdom
6. remainder

While this may strike as arbitrary, it is worth noting that the first category is the largest. The second, on the other hand, allows for a compare-and-contrast approach (given that, when both of them lived in Los Angeles, neither had anything to do with the other)! Having established my plan, I shall now begin with the first “primary chunk.”

Ironically, only three of the Viennese composers are included in the Berlin collection: Joseph Haydn, Ludwig van Beethoven, and Franz Schubert. It would not surprise me if this was the result of a collective decision that there are more than enough opportunities to listen to the music of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and I definitely agree with that decision! Nevertheless, the account of the other three composers is still a modest one.

Haydn received a fair amount of attention in the collection of recordings that Rattle made with the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. The Berlin collection accounts for five symphonies, all in the first volume of the Hoboken catalog. The entries are 88 (G major), 89 (F major), 90 (C major), 91 (E-flat major), and 92 (G major). Only the last of these has a “nickname,” the “Oxford” symphony. The collection also includes the Hoboken I/105 sinfonia concertante in B-flat major. Presumably, the concertante performers are all Berlin Philharmonic musicians: Toru Yasunaga (violin), Georg Faust (cello), Jonathan Kelly (oboe), and Stefan Schweigert (bassoon). Taken as a whole, this accounts for two CDs in the collection, both providing straightforward and satisfying accounts on all tracks.

Another two CDs are devoted to a single Beethoven composition, his Opus 72 Fidelio opera. This amounts to a “bare bones” recording, rather than a document of a staged performance. As a result, there is no need for an “orchestral interlude” (usually the third of the “Leonore” overtures) between the two scenes of the second act. I must confess that only one of the vocalists was familiar to me, Thomas Quasthoff in the role of Don Fernando. Personally, I do not think that Rattle’s approach to interpretation changed any of my thoughts about this music (most of which are not particularly positive).

Far more satisfying is the account of Franz Schubert’s final symphony, his D. 944 (numbered as either the eighth or the ninth, depending on the source you consult) in C major. It is known as “The Great,” probably for the extended scope of each of the four movements. There are any number of perfectly good accounts of this symphony to be found on recordings. My own preferences tend towards the past, with a particular fondness for Wilhelm Furtwängler. Nevertheless, Rattle delivered a solid interpretation that never allowed my attention to waver.