Igor Stravinsky - Le Sacre du Printemps (Stefan Goldmann Edit)

2009; 4 tracks

FEAST YOUR EARS ON..... iclonoclasticism.

Here, the popular house/dub-step artist Stefan Goldmann has "[used] samples from fourteen performances of Stravinsky and cut them into what the press release assures is no fewer than 147 segments, brushed them ever so lightly in his studio, and stitched them back together into an eighteen minute version all his own."

It's like walking into a different room every couple of seconds, bombarded by new sound, and the effect is truly breathtaking. This is an amazing recording (or, rather, collection of recordings). If you're thinking this sounds strange or displeasing, trust me, you will be -delightfully?- surprised.

The obvious question, then: is it any good? The answer, I think, is yes. Goldmann’s edit combines subtle layers of tone in ways that jar and frustrate, because no orchestra should be able to combine them in one sitting. Goldmann’s track is creepy. The familiar feeling of hearing an orchestra perform, subverted minute by minute by a collision of sounds that shouldn’t quite be with one another, gets under the skin. Whether it does more than this is probably a matter of interpretation. To some, Goldmann’s efforts here might pale in comparison to any one of the fourteen recordings he samples in their unmolested versions. For me, though, the wonderfully subtle feeling of standing on wobbly ground Goldmann creates here is a real treat. If you prefer the original way of doing things, he’s included two of the classic recordings he’s used. But for those that want a track made with a hint of Stravinsky and Russolo’s brave approach, it’s all about the remix.

It's a new way to listen to classical music, then. It is the ultimate superhuman recording. Every orchestra has it's own nuances and interpretations - maybe once in a while they get something right, or exactly as Stravinsky had intended. Perhaps this meshing of 14 different recordings has created the ultra-ultimate recording, precisely as Stravinsky had envisioned... or as Le Sacre du Printemps should sound.

The riot which took place at the premiere of Stravinsky's ballet The Rite of Spring (Le Sacre Du Printemps) in Paris, 1913, remains one of the greatest scandals in music history. While such a reception seems incomprehensible by today's jaded, world-weary audiences, the savage rhythms and violent dissonance of the composition still retain the power to awe, helping it become arguably the most important, widely performed piece of 20th century composition. It's logical that a piece so centred on rhythm should spark the interest of dance music producers, but that it has resulted in so subtle an edit, by none other than proto-progressivist Stefan Goldmann, is indeed a surprise.

The only hint of an interest in classical music I'd noticed in Goldmann was the choir which gorgeously rears up in "Lunatic Fringe," but his edit of The Rite reveals a studied, thorough understanding not just of classical music structure but, more significantly, of the classical recording industry. Taking twelve different recordings of the work, Goldmann performed 146 cuts, remaining faithful to the score throughout. As Goldmann describes it: "Every couple of seconds you find yourself in a different room, listening to a different orchestra under a different conductor. A journey through microphone positions and mixdown decisions. Each time a different world in the headphone." Goldmann, then, is in essence some sort of Perry-esque dub-engineer-prankster here, exposing the imperfection-masking "invisible edits" of which the classical recording industry is so dependent, celebrating the unique atmospheres of individual recording sessions, and, almost consequently, introducing a beloved classical icon to new audiences. A Ferry Corsten trance mix of "Adagio for Strings" this ain't.

Except that Goldmann's approach is so "minimally invasive" that his edits are often as difficult to detect as those of the industry he critiques. Actual cuts are inaudible, and the variations between performances, or rather between recording sessions, are barely discernible, even through headphones. His restraint is admirable, and it's an intriguing concept—there is some fun to be had in spotting the change in bassoons in the opening bars, or the fluctuations in tape hiss which occur throughout—but it's an alienating, academic exercise, and soon seems rather pointless.

Much better to submit and get carried away by the music, the strongest moments of which remain immune to Goldmann's scalpel. The lasting effect Goldmann's editing produces is one of dehumanisation and objectivity, the artifice of recording foregrounded, and this version, if it can be compared against "real" ones, feels uniquely cold. The contribution of individual performers, and the relative value of different performances (the basis for all classical music appreciation and criticism) become meaningless, leaving only an indifferent rendering of Stravinsky's score. This may well have been Goldmann's intention, but I'll take Pierre Monteux's untouched 1957 recording, included here, any day.

Ironically, after all these levels of detachment, it is Stravinsky whose voice remains.

Stefan Goldmann's edit:
1. L'adoration de la Terre
2. Le Sacrifice

Pierre Monteux / The Boston Symphony Orchestra:
3. L'adoration de la Terre (Live)
4. Le Sacrifice (Live)

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Bohuslav Martinů - Complete Symphonies

2005; 21 tracks
Bryden Thomson / Scottish National Orchestra

Bohuslav Martinů was a Bohemian Czech composer of neo-classical and neo-Romantic music. He wrote 6 symphonies in all, and here they are in their entirety. His music is extremely accessible and lovely - reminiscent of Hindemith, Copland, and even Bartók at times... I absolutely love the first symphony, but all of them are so admirably perfect and SO underrated.

Bohuslav Martinů (1890-1959) only began composing symphonies after fleeing the Nazis into American exile in 1941. He was of a generation that saw the symphony as passé -- Bartók was born in 1881 and Stravinsky in 1882, and Martinů was born in 1890 -- while Mahler was born in 1860, and Sibelius and Nielsen in 1865. Modernism entailed new forms and styles, and while Martinu was never a modernist he did inhabit a soundworld with a lighter touch full of dance rhythms, not heavy, four-square symphonies. But he received a commission from Koussevitsky and the Boston Symphony, so he wrote a symphony. And then another, and another... He ended up composing a symphony a year every year from 1942 to 1946, No.s 1 through 5, and later a Sixth, his most popular. They are graceful, full of dancing rhythms, and of classical proportions, ranging from 23 to 36 minutes in length. Symphonies 1, 2 and 4 are in the traditional four-movement form, while No.s 3, 5 and 6 each have three movements. The First, Third and Sixth were premiered by the Boston Symphony, the Second was premiered by the Cleveland Orchestra, the Fourth was premiered by the Philadelphia Orchestra, and the Fifth is unique in having been premiered by the Czech Philharmonic and Rafael Kubelik.

Symphony No. 1 demonstrated that Martinů's gifts, previously applied to the concerto grosso form, all manner of chamber music, and opera, could be applied to great effect to the symphonic form, despite his misgivings. Its success spurred him on. Symphony No. 2 is shorter and uses Czech and Moravian folk melodies in the slow movement, his most Czech symphony, and features the use of several small groups of instruments. Symphony No. 3 stands out from the others in its dark and somber hue. While parts of the First and Second had reflected the war, the Third is clearly marked by it through and through. It is Martinů's only work that reminds me of Shostakovich in its gravity and tragic cast. It is a powerful work which ends without a triumphant resolution, despite Beethoven's Eroica being an inspiration and despite the D-Day landing at Normandy taking place shortly before Martinů completed it. Though atypical, I consider this to be one of the finest jewels in this string of six. The Fourth complements the Third perfectly as it celebrates victory. The second movement Allegro vivo reminds me of nothing so much as the scherzo to Beethoven's 9th, a propulsive dancing march rhythm. It has the forward momentum of the opening of Roussel's Third Symphony, but is lighter on its feet. And the Poco allegro finale is an ecstatic celebration, the triumph that was withheld at the conclusion of the Third. The Fifth is more questing and tentative after that burst of enthusiasm. It was first heard at the inaugural Prague Spring Festival in 1947. A head injury caused by a fall from an open second-floor terrace led to several years of expensive treatment and convalesence, but Martinů returned to composing at the peak of his powers. The Sixth was finished in 1953, and is the most broadly Romantic of his symphonies, sounding like Copland in parts with lush, sweeping melodies, and using the melody "Across the Wide Missouri," though I've never seen this mentioned anywhere. Listen for yourself and see. It remains one of Martinů's most popular works.

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Franz Schubert - The Symphonies

1993; 30 tracks
Nikolaus Harnoncourt / Concertgebouw Orchestra

These are awesome.

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