On Saturday, October 10, 2015 at 3:33:47 AM UTC+11, Oscar wrote:
> Review of the new 52 CD Warner Classics box, Simon Rattle - The CBSO Years. From Classics Today Insider
http://tinyurl.com/ofgrnxw
>
> << Simon Rattle: The Mediocrity Collection
> Review by: David Hurwitz
>
> Artistic quality 6
> Sound quality 8
>
> Simon Rattle's years in Birmingham constituted a phenomenon, no doubt about it. As a local hero, he engendered much civic pride and, thanks to a helpful push from that lapdog of nationalist PR, the British press, he and his orchestra rose to international prominence. A few decades and god knows how many Gramophone awards later, these fifty-two CDs reveal a very average level of accomplishment, not because of the orchestra, which was a good one when when Rattle got it and remains so today, but because Rattle is such an uninteresting conductor.
Here is one lapdog of nationalist PR, quoting in passing other lapdogs of nationalist PR, presenting a far from enthusiastic review of Sir Simon's Berliner efforts:
Getting Rattled
By Norman Lebrecht / January 12, 2005
Few people survive quarter of a century in the public eye without facing criticism. Simon Rattle is one of the blessed few.
From the day he raised a baton as principal conductor in Birmingham in 1980, Rattle has been the golden boy of classical music. In a blackspot of brutalist architecture and Thatcherite industrial wipeout Rattle turned a provincial orchestra into a brand leader.
The City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra became the first in Britain to win million-pound annual funding. Its new hall - built, at Rattle's demand, to the specifications of the world's foremost concert hall acoustician Russell Johnson - had the best sound in the land.
Rattle reached out to schools and minorities, rejuvenating audiences and civic pride. His enthusiasm for new music boosted young composers like Mark Anthony Turnage and Thomas Ades and bred a grassroots Contemporary Music Group. Ed Smith, the executive who engaged him and implemented his ideas, refers to him still as a genius.
Rattle left Birmingham in 1998 on a cloud of glory. Players in London may have wondered why, while conducting, he never looked them in the eye and colleagues might mutter that he was too goody-goody, too right-on, too heart-on-sleeve. But such cavils never reached his ears. Rattle was too big a hero, too important to the art's survival, for anyone in the music world to risk offending him.
His sights were now set at the summits. He reworked Beethoven's nine symphonies with the Vienna Philharmonic, which had played them ab creatio, introducing period-instrument techniques and modern scholarly hypotheses. He palled up with Tony Blair at Downing Street. When Claudio Abbado quit the Berlin Philharmonic after an unhappy, post-Karajan decade, Rattle was waiting, stick in hand.
Beating Daniel Barenboim in a players' ballot, he began with a bang. The first piece he conducted was by Ades and he was soon out in the schools, challenging Berlin kids to dance to his Rite of Spring. The city coughed up record public funding and he won £10 million from Deutsche Bank in education grants. He was halfway through his second season before anyone pointed out that he was merely replaying Birmingham, without variations.
In an eye-catching article last April, Axel Brueggermann, cultural editor of Die Welt am Sonntag, argued that the Philharmonic's distinctive sound and tradition were being eroded by Rattle. Superimposing his moptop on Karajan's craggy face in an eye-catching image, Brueggermann warned that the Philharmonic had exchanged one autocracy for another. When I talked to him the other day (for BBC2's Culture Show), Brueggermann's criticism was pointed: 'he conducts in little bars, in little ideas, in a postmodern way. He denies the big picture.'
Last summer, at the BBC Proms, the reviews were the worst Berlin has ever received on British soil. Stephen Pettitt, in the Evening Standard, found the delicate texture of Debussy's La Mer 'inadequately transparent, so that although one sensed the power of deep-sea current, there was little feeling of landscape, salt-spray, bracing gust, or dancing light.' My ears glued to a digital radio, I could not believe I was hearing the Berlin Phil harmonic, so slack was the sound, so unfocussed (players later confided they were worn out at the end of a gruelling tour, but that's no excuse). It was clear that the honeymoon was over and the outlook uncertain.
Coping with criticism is never easy for an artist, least of all for one who turns 50 next week and has never tasted adversity. Chummy with his peers, politically adroit, image-protected by loyal allies - the BBC Proms controller Nicholas Kenyon is his licensed biographer - Rattle has cultivated, like Karajan, a cocoon of impregnability whose absolute defence is essential to his artform's prosperity.
Media savvy, he gave a soft interview last week admitting that his relationship with the orchestra was 'turbulent'. As a token of commitment, he has upped sticks from Islington (where his ex-wife keeps the house) and moved to Berlin with his new love, the Czech mezzo-soprano, Magdalena Kozena, who is expecting their child. His box-office appeal at the Philharmonie is undented.
Nevertheless, Rattle has not got this far without being a realist and, while he denies reading reviews, he will be aware of rumbling dissents - and of the ovations his rival Barenboim received last month when he conducted a memorial concert for Wilhelm Furtwängler, Karajan's predecessor, on the 50th anniversary of his death. Barenboim, it was said, allowed the Berlin Philharmonic to perform to its strengths.
His philosophical breadth contrasted starkly with Rattle's deconstructionist approach to classical and romantic repertoire. Rattle's Beethoven cycle with Vienna fell halfway between period style and modern pizzazz and he tends to convey emotional upsurge more by physical gesticulation than by innate feeling. Veteran Berlin players implore other maestros to lead them in Brahms. They have a need that the chief conductor is not fulfilling."
Yes, I know Lebrecht can be a hot air merchant, but he's still a British critic, as is Stephen Pettitt, cited above.
I had to smile at the mention of the Rattle house in Islington - Sir Simon as "Islington Man". "Islington Man" is trendy, leftish, organic, bourgeois-bohemian - is there a New York equivalent?
Sadly I have to report that the barbaric British custom of burning Mildred Miller in effigy every Fifth of November seems to continue unabated, especially in Kathleen Ferrier's Lancashire,
Andrew Clarke
Canberra