New Criterion: Jay Nordlinger: Who's good?
Premise Checker
in a different spirit, with few exceptions, from current ones. I
recall a contemporary review of the mono recording of the great
Wilhelm Backhaus playing the last two Beethoven sonatas. The reviewer,
Desmond Shaw-Taylor iirc, a well-respected Englishman in his day,
thought the disc was almost without interpretation. But I am so in
tune with Backhaus that I heard his magic quite clearly. This is the
problem of judging records one by one. And so it is with Nordlinger.
Well, his judgments might be useful, nevertheless, as pointers to the
best performers of today. But James Levine as a great conductor?? He
simply fails to move my spirit, no matter how skilled he may be in
manipulating the instruments of the orchestra.
I have no use for Nordlinger, therefore.
Jay Nordlinger: Who's good?
http://newcriterion.com/archives/25/09/whos-good/
The New Criterion, Volume 25, September 2006, on page 108
Longtime readers of this magazine have heard me make this point,
more than once: The music world is inordinately affected by
nostalgia. The past was always golden, and the present is more like
tin. That performance of Lohengrin at the Metropolitan Opera this
afternoon? It was okay, but you should have heard the cast back in
'58! (Some people would like to go back to 1858, but I was
referring to the twentieth century.) That young violinist who
played the Tchaikovsky Concerto with the Cleveland Orchestra? She
was all right, but you should have heard Erica Morini, when she
first came out.
Sometimes we remember--or imagine--the past correctly. And
sometimes we are simply deluded. Sometimes the present is, indeed,
tin (and tin will be preponderant in any age). But there is much
gold about, and part of musical awareness is to be ... well, aware
of that. Five years ago, I wrote a piece about Olga Borodina, the
Russian mezzo-soprano, entitled "Greatness, Here & Now." She was,
and is, a great singer, by any standard. And why wait until she is
retired or dead to acknowledge that? I might say, too, that a visit
to the past can be an unhappy experience. Last year, someone gave
me a recording of a Philadelphia Orchestra concert, from 1962.
Guest-conducting was Otto Klemperer. And the program included
Beethoven's Symphony No. 7.
Klemperer is a legendary Beethoven conductor, and deservedly so.
But that performance was not A-1 impressive, to put it mildly. The
third and fourth movements, in particular, should be buried and not
allowed up. I understand that this was only one performance--a
snapshot--and I also understand that Klemperer was not with his own
orchestra. I further understand that recordings, of any kind, are
problematic, to say the least. But still: Listening to that
performance--dropping in on that scene, from almost forty-five
years ago--was sobering. Something like a reality check.
I propose now to answer the question, "Who's good?" Who is worthy,
special, even great today? I will survey the realm of music, making
judgments--an arrogant exercise, to be sure.
But to continue: Who will be remembered, or deserve to be, fifty
years from now, or a hundred years from now? Whose recordings will
be cherished (no matter what the problems with those artifacts)? To
ask our question differently, Whom do we feel lucky to hear? For
example, after I hear Michael Schade, the German-Canadian tenor,
sing Die schöne Müllerin, I think, "Yes, I'm sorry to have missed
Wunderlich," for he died shortly after I was born. "But I'm glad
I'm around to hear Schade, and future generations should envy me."
After I hear--and see!--Karita Mattila, the Finnish soprano, in
Salome, I'm liable to think, "I'm sorry to have missed Birgit
Nilsson," who was essentially retired by the time I came of age.
"But others will surely be sorry about Mattila!"
I will go through conductors, pianists, violinists, cellists,
singers, and assorted other performers. I will also touch on
composers (but merely touch). In brief, I think we have all too few
conductors--memorable ones--and not too many pianists. I think
we're doing all right in violinists, and that we are positively
swimming in singers. Readers are familiar with my opinion that we
are in a golden age of singing, albeit largely unrecognized. But I
could easily get ahead of myself, talking about singers. We'll
begin with the men of the podium, the conductors.
There is one indisputably great conductor in the world today: James
Levine. He has no weaknesses, no gaps; he can conduct anything,
with supreme understanding and musicality. As soon as you say he is
the consummate Mozart conductor, you say, "Well, actually, he is
the consummate Wagner conductor," and then the leading exponent of
the Second Viennese School. Etc. He is a musician, is what he is. A
onetime apprentice to George Szell in Cleveland, Levine has the
essential ingredients of technique and spirit, head and heart,
discipline and soul. He can give you the most exalted Mahler, and
the bawdiest, most grinding Bacchanale (from Samson and Delilah).
He does whatever the music or the moment calls for, and he is
always at the service of the composer. He has a rare ability to get
himself out of the way.
None of this is to say that Levine doesn't lay an egg now and then;
that is true of every performer I will mention in this piece. It
hardly needs stating that music-making is a human activity. But
Levine is extraordinarily reliable, which is part of a complete
package--the musician's complete package.
I will name some other fine, or interesting, conductors. Sir Colin
Davis is versatile, musical, and wise. Lorin Maazel is capable of
greatness, and so is Kurt Masur. The latter can seem like a dutiful
kapellmeister, but then something will click, and he stuns you. It
is a mysterious reality. I happen to know that the players of the
New York Philharmonic came off the stage one evening, after a
Beethoven Seventh (speaking of those), saying, "What happened? What
happened out there? Why does the earth seem transformed?" Again, a
mystery.
Valery Gergiev is capable of great, electrifying performances, but
is fantastically uneven. Bernard Haitink can be superb (in
Bruckner, for example), and so can other senior maestros: André
Previn, Christoph von Dohnányi, Pierre Boulez, Claudio Abbado,
Nikolaus Harnoncourt, Yuri Temirkanov. Mariss Jansons is solid,
sometimes rising to brilliant, never dipping below competent.
Daniel Barenboim can conduct like a dog one night, and like an
all-time champ the next night. Mstislav Rostropovich--one of the
greatest instrumentalists in history--can be exemplary on the
podium. Sir Neville Marriner is admirable, and so is Sir John Eliot
Gardiner. Among younger conductors, Antonio Pappano, Esa-Pekka
Salonen, Christian Thielemann, and Osmo Vänskä are very good. One
or two may finish as greats. And among still-younger conductors,
Sakari Oramo, Paavo Järvi, and Philippe Jordan stand out. We can
hope for their continued development.
These twenty or so names aside, there is one conductor who may be
described as historic--in the pantheon of Szell, Furtwängler,
Walter, and the rest--and that is Levine. One is a small number,
but it is better than none.
Turning to pianists, I would designate six as great, or at least
eminently worthy: Yefim Bronfman, Zoltán Kocsis, Jean-Yves
Thibaudet, Ivan Moravec, Mikhail Pletnev, and Stephen Hough.
Drawing up such a list is dicey--I have agonized some--and it is
also arrogant, as I have said. But I am forging ahead. Like most
great instrumentalists, or conductors, Bronfman can handle
anything. He can roar through a Liszt étude like nobody's business,
but he is also a superb Mozartean. He is a musician through and
through (while equipped with a wizard's technique).
Much the same can be said about Kocsis. Indeed, one could go on at
length about him--as about these others--but I will confine myself
to a single memory. One evening, he played Schubert's Sonata in B
flat, Op. posth., in an utterly transporting way. Another critic
and I looked at each other as if to say, "Did we just hear that?"
Jean-Yves Thibaudet is known as a French specialist, but he has
other strengths. Even if he did not, however, he would still be an
invaluable pianist. Many an evening or afternoon, I have left a
Thibaudet recital thinking, "You know, we grow teary over
Gieseking. But, honestly, would we trade?"
Ivan Moravec is an aristocrat of the piano, the embodiment of an
old, honorable sensibility, a musician of complete integrity. There
is not a trace of artifice in him. Mikhail Pletnev is a different
player--more flash--but still musically formidable. He can be
eccentric, or willful, but always compels. Stephen Hough is a
Bronfman-like miracle: He can be a dazzling virtuoso one
day--playing a Saint-Saëns concerto, for example--and the soul of
small-scale poetry the next. It is as though Georges Cziffra and
Clara Haskil were combined in one fellow. (Of course, Cziffra was
capable of small-scale poetry too.) And there is not a smoother,
more lyrical pianist than Hough.
There are certainly other worthies in the piano field. Nikolai
Lugansky is a young Russian of sure fingers and sure intelligence.
Christian Zacharias can be masterly, especially in Mozart. Krystian
Zimerman is out of this world, when the stars are lined up. Martha
Argerich is as mercurial as they come: She can be
appalling--indefensible--and unbeatable, in the course of the same
evening. Vladimir Feltsman can rise to greatness, and so can
Richard Goode. Leif Ove Andsnes is a commanding musician--too
severe at times, but commanding. Piotr Anderszewski is a skillful
Pole, and Arcadi Volodos is a Russian lion who can be profound in,
say, Schubert.
A few special cases might be mentioned. Leon Fleisher is now in his
late seventies, playing a bit with two hands, after about
thirty-five years of being limited to one. (Neurological disorder.)
He is a noble musician. Alicia de Larrocha is now retired from
concert life. And Murray Perahia? Readers of these pages are well
familiar with my lament over him: He was, in the 1970s and '80s, a
great pianist, even a historic pianist, I would say. He practically
defined tastefulness. But then he decided to make changes: to
become a keyboard-eater. He started to pound and strain and stress.
And the old Perahia was gone, largely. He is still not yet sixty.
But to listen to the real Perahia, in my opinion, you have to put
on recordings of a different era.
We have a solid crop of violinists, with two who constitute the
cream: Hilary Hahn and Maxim Vengerov. Hahn came to world attention
when she was a teenager, and she was astounding then: uncannily
musical, knowing. Now in her mid-twenties, she is of course even
better. She seems to have no weakness, playing Bach, the Romantics,
the moderns with affinity and mastery. Like other greats on these
lists, she has the indispensable quality of musical taste--instinct
abetted by training. She also has a reserve of spirituality (which
you hear in Bach partitas, for example, or the Elgar Concerto).
Vengerov is not less impressive. He has loads of charisma, and he
can be showy. But a) there's a place for showiness in music, and b)
he never loses his head. He is one of the golden handful in whom
music is preexisting.
Other violinists to mention? Midori, the one-named wonder, is
another player of taste. Joshua Bell generates a lot of hype,
almost movie-actor hype--but he deserves his acclaim. Sure, he can
be sloppy--as they all can (maybe not Hilary Hahn)--but he played a
recital that ranks among the greatest I have heard, and that
includes Milstein. (Any such statement sounds heretical to
countless ears.) Gidon Kremer is bright, challenging, exacting.
James Ehnes has oodles of technique, and musicality to spare. He is
distinguished in Mozart and finger-fliers alike. Christian Tetzlaff
is uneven, in my experience, but sometimes he cuts absolutely to
the heart of the matter.
Everyone has his criticisms of Anne-Sophie Mutter--I do--but she is
a musician to be reckoned with. Also estimable are Viktoria
Mullova, Leonidas Kavakos, Sarah Chang, and Leila Josefowicz.
Itzhak Perlman is by no means out to pasture--he is barely past
sixty--but his violin-playing days seem to be waning, and he will
probably be increasingly active as a conductor.
Before we leave the strings, let's run through some cellists. (I
have no violists or bassists to offer.) Han-Na Chang was a child
prodigy whom you did not really treat as a child prodigy: She was a
cellist of amazing maturity and ability. If Rostropovich says you
are great, you are--and Chang was, and is. Now in her early
twenties, she is pretty much at the top of the cello heap. And, if
expectations are met, we will listen to her for another
half-century, at least. Truls Mørk is another splendid cellist,
boasting an excellent sound, worry-free technique, and good sense.
Natalia Gutman is a Russian who is particularly effective in her
home repertoire. Lynn Harrell can deliver fine performances, and so
can Carter Brey and David Finckel. Brey is principal cellist of the
New York Philharmonic, and Finckel is best known as a member of the
Emerson String Quartet. Each has much to say as a soloist. I should
not omit Yo-Yo Ma, for, no matter how much he maddens you,
interpretively, he owns one of the most beautiful sounds going. The
great János Starker is in his eighties, out of the limelight. And
the greatest of them all, Rostropovich, is through with the cello.
He still puts in his time on the conductor's podium.
Of singers, I will give you dozens. I grant that we are not rich in
Wagner singing today--putting on a Ring, for example, can be
unappetizing. But we are doing well in most every other category.
In my survey of singers, I will begin with sopranos (which is the
way they like it, of course).
Christine Schäfer is extraordinary in both song and opera. (She is
a standout in Berg's Lulu, for example.) Like other great singers,
she is blessed with technique, voice, intelligence, musicality, and
what we might call "presence." Dorothea Röschmann is similarly
blessed, and is a Mozart soprano for the ages. Renée Fleming is
sometimes resented because of her celebrity--but that celebrity is
not accidental. For all her faults (e.g., mannerisms), she is a
great singer, and in particular a great Straussian. Deborah Voigt
can be faulted, too. But when she is on her game, she is
indisputably great, combining power and lyricism as few before her
have. She is unsurpassed as Sieglinde and Chrysothemis--to name
only two opera roles--and she is a fine recitalist, across a
variety of repertoire. Violeta Urmana has recently ascended from
mezzo-soprano to soprano, and she is a singer of formidable
ability, wherever she is. (They will be crying over her Kundry in
future generations.) Karita Mattila is first-rate. She knows her
way around the song repertoire, and she is well-nigh historic in
several roles: Leonore, Salome, some ~jan ones.
Oh, how they love to pick on Angela Gheorghiu. ("They" being the
press, and sniffier members of the public.) She certainly kicks up
controversy, and her antics are already legendary. But this should
not disguise the fact that she can sing superbly. Moreover, since
when do antics count against an opera performer? Anna Netrebko is
supported by a vast publicity machine, but that machine has a lot
to sell: She is an amazingly compelling singer, or singing actress
(in La Traviata, for instance). The two dominant coloratura
sopranos--Zerbinettas, let's say--are Natalie Dessay and Diana
Damrau, and they would be showstoppers in any era. Dame Felicity
Lott is an artist of true refinement. Ruth Ann Swenson is a very,
very good lyric soprano, who seldom gets her due, and Barbara
Bonney is a winner as well. Heidi Grant Murphy has a voice of
angelic beauty--she knows how to use it, too--and Dawn Upshaw is
appealing in a number of ways.
Mezzo-sopranos? They will come fast and furious. Olga Borodina, I
have already spoken of, in my introduction. She is, indeed, a great
singer, and in many areas: in Russian liturgical music, in Russian
song, and in Russian opera; in Verdi (she is a stunning Amneris,
for example); in the French repertoire (Carmen, Delilah, the
Berlioz parts); in Rossini. She can absorb anything, although I
have never heard her in Mozart, and have seldom heard her in the
German language. Nevertheless, have you experienced her Urlicht, as
Mahler's Second Symphony unfolds? Transcendental. Anne Sofie von
Otter is a mezzo who can really do everything--or virtually
everything--and, what's more, she can do no wrong. Borodina and von
Otter all by themselves almost constitute a golden age.
Here are three more who are nearly all-capable: Susan Graham,
Magdalena ~KOZENA, and Stephanie Blythe. And take another excellent
three: Susanne Mentzer, Vesselina Kasarova, and Angelika
Kirchschlager. All of these singers, you could argue for, or
celebrate, at length. Bernarda Fink is magnificent, particularly in
Bach and the Spanish repertoire. (She is from Argentina.) Joyce
DiDonato is a relative newcomer on the scene, but she is already
unignorable. Three mezzos who can really scorch their way across
the operatic stage--as Eboli, for example--are Dolora Zajick,
Larissa Diadkova, and Luciana D'Intino. But they can more than
scorch: They are first-class singers. Marjana ~LIPO and Felicity
Palmer are veteran mezzos of immense musical and theatrical wisdom.
And Cecilia Bartoli? She may madden you, as she does me, but her
talent is impossible to deny. Like her, it is extravagant.
Few singers go by the name of contralto these days, but Ewa Podlesï
does--and one could hardly ask for more. She is versatile,
technically stupendous, great. And she possesses one of the most
unusual instruments anyone has ever heard. I am one of many who
have described it as barely human. Another small category--although
it is getting less so--is that of countertenor. The king here, of
course, is David Daniels, who easily merits the crown.
Where tenors are concerned--proper tenors--we are not exactly
rolling in clover. Pavarotti has exited the scene, and Domingo is
not far behind him. Or is he? He sometimes gives the impression of
being ageless and indestructible. Today there is practically no one
for the core Italian roles of Radamès, Cavaradossi, etc. And we
are, if anything, even poorer in Wagner tenors.
There is one area in which we are faring pretty well: that of light
lyric tenors, or Wunderlichian tenors, if you like. I have already
mentioned Michael Schade, that singer of Die schöne Müllerin, the
Mozart roles, and other things. When I heard him as Tamino in
Salzburg two summers ago, along with René Pape as Sarastro, I
thought (and wrote), "Come, now. Weep for ages past, if you can't
control yourself. But when are you going to hear better Mozart
singing from a tenor and a bass? When could you have?" Another
tenor in the Wunderlich category is Matthew Polenzani, and
Christoph Prégardien is no slouch. Richard Croft is a beautifully
lyric tenor, and Juan Diego Flórez is a florid wonder--he has
almost as many notes with his voice as Mikhail Pletnev does on the
piano. There is much to commend about Ian Bostridge, and this is
especially true when he is not over-intellectualizing. For a big
voice, we have Johan Botha, who shows flashes of greatness. May
those flashes lengthen out. And Roberto Alagna can be first-rate,
particularly in French operas.
In the field of baritones, I will start with Dmitri Hvorostovsky
and Thomas Hampson. The former is a good Verdian, and he has
something to contribute in other areas as well. But where he is
really to be prized is in the Russian literature, in all of its
manifestations. For instance, he and Borodina are two of the
greatest singers of Mussorgsky's Songs and Dances of Death of all
time. (Podlesï is a third, come to think of it.) Hampson is a quite
versatile singer, at home in songs of every kind. When he resists
the temptation to over-intellectualize--speaking of that--he is as
satisfying as anyone. On the opera stage, he is a superb Onegin, a
superb Wolfram, a superb Giovanni. In fact, he has etched his name
on the roll of historic Giovannis.
Sir Thomas Allen, so tasteful and stylish, is near the end of his
career, but is still going. Mariusz Kwiecien is near the beginning
of his career, but already provides significant pleasure. Falk
Struckmann is burnished and credible. And Matthias Goerne owns one
of the most beautiful voices in ... I will not blush to say
history. He doesn't always deploy it as one would want, but he
sometimes does.
I offer up a trio of bass-baritones: Bryn Terfel, Thomas Quasthoff,
and John Relyea. Terfel is a true star, a larger-than-life
personality, with music in his bones. He has long been a famous
Falstaff, and he excels in many other roles, Mozart's Figaro
prominent among them. But he is an especially fine recitalist, with
his charisma, musicianship, and likability. He is one of the
greatest singers of British music ever. Quasthoff is terribly
bright and talented, and that throat is golden. As for Relyea, he
is completely dependable--in oratorio (a form not to be neglected)
as much as in his variety of opera roles.
The first four basses I will give you are all senior, in some cases
quite senior. Kurt Moll is still going, that paragon of operatic
art. James Morris is still an authoritative Wotan, Hans Sachs,
Scarpia, and other things. Samuel Ramey may be frayed, but he has
powers of compensation. And Robert Lloyd is in the tradition of
elegant, polished, and tasteful British singers. A fifth bass,
however, is in the prime of his career, and that is René Pape. Even
the most determined nostalgists concede his greatness, for it is so
obvious, to deny it is futile. Can there ever have been a better
King Mark (to name only one of his roles)? Here is a more brazen
question: Has there ever been one as good? And to hear Pape in,
say, the Verdi Requiem is equally gratifying. His technique is
assured, his voice is marvelous, his sense of music is natural, and
right. To return to a phrase I used earlier: the complete package.
But enough of singers (and I have named over fifty). Let's explore
some other instruments, beginning with the clarinet--because we
have some great musicians who play it. David Shifrin is simply one
of the best instrumentalists in the world, and we can say the same
of Sabine Meyer. Ricardo Morales is first-rate too, though he does
not have a full-time solo career. (He is principal in the
Philadelphia Orchestra.) Emmanuel Pahud is a flutist of lavish
gifts--technical, musical, and intellectual. It says something that
Yefim Bronfman tours with him. There are some solo French-horn
players about, but I would like to name an orchestra player: Stefan
Dohr, of the Berlin Philharmonic. In his hands, the many
difficulties of the French horn seem to vanish. And Evelyn Glennie
is so good, she has created something new: the full-time solo
percussionist.
I said I would touch on composers, and I will--prefacing my remarks
with a couple of truisms. 1) You can never be sure what music will
last. Critics and others often worry that future generations will
laugh at them for ignorant dismissal. Frankly, my friends, I'll
take my chances. And 2) No matter what the era, 90 percent of music
is dreck. My complaint is that our era soars well above the
allotted 90 percent. We are not nearly as rich in new music as we
are in people to perform it.
I suspect that almost nothing of today's music will join the
everlasting repertory, or even endure beyond the composers' lives.
Arvo Pärt may buck the trend. He is a serious-minded composer who
receives doses of spiritual inspiration. Choirs, in particular, may
want to perform his work. And there are other worthy composers,
don't get me wrong. I will type a short list: Krzysztof Penderecki,
William Bolcom, Sofia Gubaidulina, Steve Reich (the former bad boy
of minimalism who is just turning seventy). Singers should want to
sing Lee Hoiby's songs, American singers in particular. And his
operas are strong. Thomas Adès is a smart young man--but is he
musically inspired, the way really good composers must be? Jay
Greenberg provides a ray of hope. He is only fourteen, but he has
been writing impressive music for years. The Sony label recently
released his Symphony No. 5 and his Quintet for Strings. They don't
merely show promise: They are laudable works in and of themselves.
This is a composer who bears watching, particularly if he eludes
capture by the theoreticians and dogmatists.
But, generally speaking, we are in a barren age for composition.
Back to the full half of the glass, however. As I have contended,
there are plenty of people worth hearing today, and a fair number
of immortals-in-the-making. You don't have to stay home with your
historical reissues; you can go to the concert hall or opera house
(on selected nights). There is something unattractive in human
nature that wants to scorn the present and exalt the past--or that
wants to dishonor the present in order to honor the past (as though
we besmirch the memories of the departed if we appreciate the
living and breathing). This phenomenon is perpetually repeating.
When Furtwängler came along, he was faced with the ghost of
Nikisch. The upstart Serkin had to deal with the beloved Schnabel.
Janet Baker could do no right, because there had been Kathleen
Ferrier. And so on.
Switching to baseball, what harm do we do to Walter Johnson (who
retired in 1927) if we acknowledge the obvious fact that Roger
Clemens is an all-time great? And as long as we're talking sports,
I'd like to tell you about a golf pro I once knew. The late Bill
Strausbaugh, Jr., was the most decorated teacher in the PGA of
America. Everyone called him "Coach." In the mid-1990s, when Tiger
Woods started winning on the Tour, Coach said, "That young man has
the best golf motion ever." (Coach disliked the word "swing," for
reasons I need not pause for.) I replied, like an idiot, "Oh,
Coach: You must mean he has one of the best motions ever. I mean,
you've seen Hogan, Snead--all of them." He fixed me with a look and
said, "No, Jay, I meant what I said: Tiger Woods has the best golf
motion ever." (Coach, who died in 1999, would like him even better
now.)
I was deeply impressed that this senior statesman was free of
nostalgia, recognizing greatness when it was before him. And that's
not a bad posture for any of us.
TeeJay
many will disagree with the individual selections and omissions, but
that's part of the fun.
JohnGavin
I just wish people who write essays like this would title them "Who I
Like the Best". It would be much more honest and less pretentions.
He lost me at the part where he calls Stephen Hough part Haskill and
part Cziffra. That insight is completely lost on me.
matt
I never heard the recording of the 1962 Klemperer/Philadelphia
Beethoven 7th; maybe it wasn't good. But I was at that concert, and,
believe me when I tell you, it was really, really good.
But, what do I know?
Matt