“Representing no occasion, no immediate purpose but an appeal to eternity” was how Albert Einstein, (the music critic, not the physicist/philosopher) described Mozart’s last three symphonies. How can such sublime music exist without either social or creative context? They have, rightly, assumed an almost mystical aura. The late Nikolaus Harnoncourt always used to perform them together as he regarded them to be essentially one work. Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic have set new standards in these performances with the wind breathtakingly behind their virtuosic wings: everything seems perfect. I wish I had more space to expatiate on the adrenalin-charged felicities of these accounts. They embody a rare and wondrous fusion of both interpretive “worlds”: the heft and scale of a great symphony orchestra in full cry, with the drama and detail of historically informed or influenced approach. In the Symphony No 39, the clarinets seem more present than ever, and seem to enhance the cheerful bustle, especially in their most prominent appearance in the Trio of the Menuetto. I was glad Rattle observed the repeat in the finale, as, without it, the ending seems abrupt. In the G Minor, the opening mood reminded me of Benjamin Britten’s superb, late-60s…

Argentine cellist Sol Gabetta catapulted into public consciousness when she won the Crédit Suisse Young Artist Award in 2004 and subsequently debuted with the Vienna Philharmonic and Valery Gergiev. She was 23 then, but had won her first competition at the age of ten, and now enjoys a hectic international career as one of the world’s most famous and highly-regarded cellists. Her wide-ranging repertoire includes three albums of works by Vivaldi and his contemporaries, recorded with Capella Gabetta, the ensemble she founded with her brother Andrés. In addition to core 19th-century repertoire, she is also committed to contemporary compositions, and has recorded an album of works by Latvian composer Pe¯teris Vasks which included his Second Cello Concerto, written especially for Gabetta.  This latest album features two 20th-century masterworks – the first, arguably the most famous cello concerto in the repertoire; the second, virtually unknown by comparison. Elgar’s concerto was written in 1919, with the dark pall of WWI hanging heavily upon its composer, who wrote, next to its entry in his catalogue of works, “Finis. R.I.P.”. Its 1919 premiere was a disaster, and it languished in popularity until recorded by Jacqueline du Pré in 1965 (incredibly, she was only 20) and her technically…

The British maestro on climbing the mountain, the lessons of history and avoiding chauffeur-driven limo Beethoven.

Sir Simon’s new Berlin cycle on the orchestra’s home label combines the HIP with a roundly Romantic underbelly.

And now for something completely different? By general agreement, Rattle’s 2003 cycle of Beethoven symphonies with the Vienna Philharmonic was inconsistent and hastily packaged, the conscious Haydnesque jollities of the First and Second symphonies – clearly Rattle had been listening to John Eliot Gardiner and Frans Brüggen – rubbing awkwardly against visions of the Third, Fifth and Ninth swept along by broad sweeps of Romanticism, like Rattle had also swallowed huge chunks of Wilhelm Furtwängler. Rattle is on record as saying that Furtwängler’s 1942 recording of the Choral Symphony epitomises everything genuinely great about the Berlin Philharmonic, its string sound in particular. And here’s the great paradox of this fresh Beethoven cycle, recorded with the Berlin Philharmonic in October 2015 – a decade on from his first attempt, Rattle has managed to make the yin and yang of HIP and a Romantic underbelly coexist and these Berlin Philharmonic readings sound less obviously indebted to its own heritage. “You can try to make [Beethoven] agree with himself when often he’s fighting with himself,” Rattle says in the bonus documentary included as part of the package. “But I have the feeling that the more plain-spoken this music is, the better it is.”…

ANAM student Harry Bennetts has landed a place at the prestigious Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra Academy.

The final years of Herbert von Karajan’s tenure as Principal Conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic had descended into chaos; egos clashed and Karajan was moonlighting with indecent regularity in Vienna. Claudio Abbado gradually pieced goodwill back together when he was appointed as successor in 1989, his collegiate approach contrasting noticeably with Karajan’s despotic tendencies. Abbado’s valedictory appearance with the orchestra in May 2013 thus marked the end of an era, an occasion wistfully celebrated in this latest release from Berlin Philharmoniker Recordings. Two works, which Abbado had recorded previously, were on the programme: Mendelssohn’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique, which turned out to be a characteristically shrewd piece of programming. Abbado’s earlier Midsummer Night’s Dream (also with BPO) might have included more numbers, but the chimerical gleam of those hanging-in-the-air opening woodwind chords gives notice that here is something very special. The fleeting, skipping Scherzo, with its sinuous harmonic sleights-of-hand, is as fantastical as the triadic, muscular brass writing of the Wedding March is rooted in the earth. Deborah York and Stella Doufexis, and the choir, balance well-enunciated weight against suggestive fancy. Abbado’s perspective on Berlioz is far removed from Bernstein’s blood and guts cinematic view –…

We talk to the apostle of authenticity about his life and his Schubert recordings with the Berlin Philharmonic.

Messiaen’s masterwork goes for the lot: rocks, birds and throws in the song of the star Aldebaran for good measure.

Editor’s Choice – Orchestral, October 2015 When I spoke to Nikolaus Harnoncourt about his new Schubert set for Limelight’s August issue, one thing was made clear from the get-go: the prevailing wisdom that the truly superlative Schubert symphonies are the Unfinished and the Great needs to be questioned. “Already his own style is in place from the first movement of the First Symphony,” Harnoncourt told me. And the conducting bears out those bold sentiments. Harnoncourt’s idea of a ‘Schubert style’ runs contrary to deeply held ‘certainties’, while remaining stubbornly rooted in the notes. The First Symphony is revealed as the work of an enfant terrible, a cocky young composer fully-versed in the lessons of Beethoven; stinging dissonances disrupt what might otherwise be smooth harmonic pathways. That opening movement is taken at a high-velocity tempo, Harnoncourt daring momentum to buckle when the harmony is at its most disobedient. And having comprehensively demolished the misnomer that his earliest symphonies might be pallid re-makes of Mozart and Haydn, Harnoncourt aims to change hearts and minds about Schubert’s middle and late-period symphonies. His earlier cycle, recorded in 1992 with the Concertgebouw, balances out intriguingly between the peppery soul of the Romantic spirit tempered by…

The four must-have albums of Nikolaus Harnoncourt.