Sony - The Bernstein Century Series

Annotator Tim Page admits in his booklet note that avant-garde music wasn't necessarily Leonard Bernstein's forte. In spite of his reputation of being a chic advocate of all things youthful, his recorded legacy, impressive as it is, is also rather conventional. Still, there's much to enjoy on this CD. The most successful performances here are the Feldman and the Schuller. Although Out of "Last Pieces" is neither typical of Morton Feldman nor even a particularly strong work, Bernstein solves its coloristic equations, and the New York Philharmonic makes sensuous music out of it. Composer Gunther Schuller recommends that those hearing Triplum focus not on its threes-based structure but on its totality. This is the best work I've heard from Schuller by far; too much of his music seems to be intent on proving some obscure thesis. Bernstein and Schuller were Tanglewood colleagues, and Bernstein's recording of Triplum shows more than just dutiful involvement from the conductor.

Ligeti's Atmosphères took off when Stanley Kubrick incorporated it into 2001: A Space Odyssey. Bernstein's recording actually predates that film, so nobody can accuse him of opportunism. Less music than organized sound, Atmosphères (1961) is one of the towering masterpieces of modern classical music. Bernstein dispatches it in 6:52, a full 100 seconds faster than the next fastest recording in my collection.

The disc ends with Messiaen's Trois petites liturgies de la Présence Divine, a work for orchestra, ondes martenot (here, John Canarina), piano (Paul Jacobs), and unison sopranos (women from the Choral Arts Society). In an interesting collision between composer and performer, Bernstein treats Messiaen's idiosyncratic yet devout musical language with what sounds suspiciously like irony. His interpretation is dessicating, and in the third movement, the women's chorus performs the parlando sections coarsely, as if they were selling fish. One feels the negative effect of not having a performance tradition -- more recent recordings of this work are far more sensible. This is one of the wackiest Messiaen recordings on the market.

The recording quality is variable but always at least good. Ungenerously, there are no texts included for the Messiaen.

This CD shows a side of Bernstein that often remained hidden. For that, at least, it is worth hearing. I hope that Sony intends to reissue the Lukas Foss Phorion that was included on one of the original LPs.

With those caveats out of the way, there is much to admire here. The soloists are an excellent group. The quick vibrato in Lloyd's voice makes him a distinctive Evangelist, and he is an excitable participant in this story of Christ's crucifixion.

The best reason for acquiring the Berlioz disc is Lincer's glorious reading of the solo viola part in Harold in Italy. This is viola-playing at its most melting, and it instills deep sympathy in the listener for the fate of Berlioz's (and Lord Byron's) luckless hero. In fact, this Harold is too nice a guy for these things to happen to; no wonder he is practically shocked into total silence (and death) in the hectic fourth movement, which is an Orgy of the Brigands. Bernstein's conducting is alternately offhanded and obvious, as if he didn't believe in Berlioz's admittedly elusive score, or didn't quite know what to make of it. The interior movements are better than the outer ones; I like the accented horns at the phrase-ends near the start of March of the Pilgrims, a movement that might be described as breezy in Bernstein's conception.

Berlioz wrote La Mort de Cléopâtre in his third unsuccessful bid for the Prix de Rome. (The fourth time was a charm, but the winning work, La Mort de Sardanapale, no longer exists in toto.) This scène lyrique from 1830 is something of a warm-up for Dido's music in Les Troyens.

At times it soars (a melody that later appeared in Le Carnaval Romain appears midway through), and at other times it stumbles. One highly characteristic touch is the orchestral yelp that depicts Cleopatra's wounding by the asp. The panting strings that follow this are a convincing picture of a faltering heartbeat.

Bernstein's soloist is his friend and frequent colleague Jennie Tourel, a masterful singer, and one whose sympathy for the French language helps to sell this work. Not to be ungallant, but she sounds too long in the tooth to be totally convincing as the Egyptian beauty, and two of her high notes are yelps of quite a different sort. Bernstein is the helpful accompanist here; it's not clear to me what attracted him to this score in the first place because it doesn't give him and the orchestra much to do. Janet Baker remains first choice in this work, but Bernstein fans will not be seriously displeased by either this version or by Harold. Both recordings date from 1961.

Brittens Music Eastbourne