Dare to be different

Years ago when I was presenting on radio, the executive producer told me that my programme should dare to be different. Which was very wise advice. But sadly, in the intervening years there has been a massive shift away from difference and towards uniformity. This shift is driven by the ubiquitous media algorithms which dictate that if you like this crap, we will serve you an unvarying diet of very similar crap. And social media's friends, followers and likes are today's currency of uniformity. However, thankfully a few notable examples of daring to be different have crossed my path recently. 

In the past I have argued that there is too much Mahler. And that is a view I still hold. But if we must have more Mahler, let's make it different. Which is what the Mahler Academy Orchestra conducted by Philipp von Steinaecker have done. The Mahler Academy Orchestra is part of the Gustav Mahler Academy Bolzano-Bozen. This was founded by Claudio Abbado to provide mentoring for exceptionally talented young musicians from all over the world. 

Augmented by professional orchestral players, the Mahler Academy Orchestra is recording a cycle of Mahler using meticulously reconstructed instruments as used by the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra around 1900. To date the Ninth and Fifth Symphonies have been released by Outhere Music. The Ninth was performed at this year's BBC Proms, prompting a Guardian review which proclaimed it "a trailblazing performance that will surely be talked about for years to come". My Mahler education was in the hands of Georg Solti and Bernard Haitink, so it takes a lot to tempt me to add contemporary accounts to my CD collection. But after buying and auditioning the Mahler Academy's account of the Ninth, I also bought their Fifth. Enough said?  
My love affair with Bruckner's symphonies was consummated in 1974 by hearing Bernard Haitink conduct his Concertgebouw Orchestra in Bruckner's Ninth Symphony followed by the composer's Te Deum in Amsterdam. This after the previous evening hearing Zubin Mehta conduct the Los Angeles Philharmonic in Bruckner's Eighth at a Promenade Concert in London. 

Since then and probably because of that, my enthusiasm for Bruckner has ebbed. So it is good to report that two new releases have rekindled that enthusiasm. Perhaps not coincidentally, it is another period band that has done the rekindling by, again, daring to be different. After the less than amicable departure of the orchestra's founder Jos van Immerseel in 2024, the period instrument ensemble Anima Eterna Brugge has taken the laudable and unusual route of living together with four guest conductors, rather than rushing to marry a new music director. 

Pablo Heras-Casado is one of the four guest conductors, and he has scored a remarkable success with two recordings of Bruckner Symphonies. His account with Anima Eterna Brugge of the Third Symphony was justifiably described in a Guardian review as "one of the most explosive and visceral accounts on record with his Belgian orchestra laying into the score with bone-crushing intensity". My fondness for Bruckner's Fourth started with Karl Bohm's revered account for Decca when it was released in 1973. But despite hearing Bruckner interpreted by great conductors of the past, I have added Pablo Heras-Casado two recordings to my collection. Because his compelling conducting of the period instrument band sheds a new and persuasive light on these great symphonies. 


Now I have left the best - or is it the worst? - to last. Counter tenor turned conductor René Jacobs' recordings of the Schubert Symphonies have been labelled by a reviewer, whose main credential seems to be a large social media following, as the "worst Schubert symphonies EVER" - not my caps. Now a negative accolade like that always piques my interest, as does any Norman Lebrecht bad review. (On that subject, thank you Norman for pointing me towards Klaus Makela's excellent Sibelius cycle.)

In fairness René Jacobs' interpretations with the Ghent-based period B'Rock ensemble have polarised critical opinion. A Times reviewer praised Jacobs as "particularly compelling with the tortured, restless Schubert",  while a Gramophone reviewer commented on the "slightly uncouth sounds of period instruments". The brisk tempos and minimal vibrato also split opinions, and more extreme reviews have included adjectives such as 'vile', 'inane', and 'disgraceful'.   

But I'm not ashamed to be different. Even though I cut my Schubertian teeth on the more orthodox István Kertész's symphony cycle with the Vienna Philharmonic and Yehudi Menuhin's grossly underrated later cycle with the Sinfonia Varsovia, I was won over by René Jacobs' interpretations. Yes, they are theatrical and, in places, relentless, and, arguably, they take liberties with the score. But if the result is compelling, does that really matter? As Steve Hagen explained "Music, after all, is a type of stream. Music exists only in constant flow and flux and change. Once the movement stops, the music is no more. It exists not as a particular thing, but as pure coming and going with no thing that comes and goes".

I riffed on this theme some years ago, explaining that none of us hear music the same way, and none of us hear the same music twice. Most importantly, it means there is no permanence in music. Comparisons require permanence. So our endless search for the newest, most authentic, best performed, award winning and best recorded version of a work is meaningless. The only music is the music you are hearing right now, and it will never sound the same again. So why should Schubert's symphonies always sound the same? 

There is no such thing as a 'definitive' or 'best' performance. For the reasons above, every performance or recording is a unique and valuable event. Classical music needs to be different, both to appeal to a wider audience and to retain its dwindling core audience. Daring to be different by adding excitement and visceral sound to classical warhorses is just one way forward. For this particular concertgoer, Mahler and Bruckner on period instruments and high-octane Schubert are infinitely preferable to mobile phones in concerts or those inane BBC Radio 3 presenters. Someone who new quite a lot about music had wise advice on the subject of daring to be different. It was Carl Nielsen who proclaimed:

The right of life is stronger than the most sublime art, and even if we reached agreement on the fact that now the best and most beautiful has been achieved, mankind thirsting more for life and adventure than perception, would rise and shout in one voice: give us something else, give us something new, indeed for Heaven's sake give us rather the bad, and let us feel that we are still alive, instead of constantly going around in deedless admiration for the conventional.

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