Bruckner's Marvellous Eighth

In the spirit of catching up on some drafts, I felt I had to get this one out sooner rather than even later. The impressions left upon me by Bruckner's Eighth Symphony, though very much attenuated by time, still resonate, amplified a little by completing this post - which is, of course, one of the key points of a blog.

It was on the 22nd May 2012 that we left our daughters in the capable hands of Oma and Opa and cycled down to the Stadthalle in the warm evening sunshine to (watch? Hear?) experience the symphony played by the Heidelberg Philharmoniker under the baton (and hair) of Cornelius Meister in his final series of concerts before leaving for the richer delights of Vienna.

The symphony is an enormous, programme-filling late romantic beast of a piece, very much on the cusp of a new era. Written between 1884 and 1887, when Mahler was hitting his stride and starting to redefine symphonic performance, with Stockhausen and his ilk were not far behind, it feels like the final roar of a romantic classical alpha-stag. It uses many idioms that are well known in Romantic music, all of which I find unbearably cheesy: I was ready to despise the piece, yet, one or two slight excesses aside, it all made wonderful sense, like a language newly understood (now, in November, barely remembered).

The ninety minutes of symphony went by without the faintest hint of impatience stirring within me. The drama and the pathos felt sincere rather than overblown and only the repeats in the third (slow) movement were noticeable as musical devices rather than being in my mind integral to the narrative arc. And yes, Bruckner could write for brass (as well as for toffee).

The concert, while of course being about the music, was almost principally about the conductor. It was his final hurrah with the orchestra in Heidelberg and a bold choice from an aptly arrogant young conducting talent. Much can be said of Meister's fluid conducting style, which I at times found rather distracting, but he did achieve a very strong sound from the orchestra. This can't be put down solely to the brass section, which carried so much weight both musically and physically, adding such warmth and power to the palette: the whole mix was very convincing and felt utterly appropriate for the music being performed. My only critique of the performance was that I too often felt a lack of pulse, a slight unsteadiness with the beat. From the audience, I found it hard to discern a beat, it has to be said.

But those were the most minor of quibbles pitted against an overwhelmingly excellent evening of music. We left the concert hall impressed, filled with a renewed love for symphonic music - and ready for sharing a bottle of wine with the Großeltern back home rather than finding a noisy bar somewhere.

As an aside, I spoke with the cor anglais player in my own orchestra a few days after that performance. She is married to one of the oboists in the Heidelberger Philharmoniker and told me how he would get back home after each of the three concerts and simply slump exhausted onto the couch. The symphony is certainly extremely taxing physically - but I can imagine those players having invested significant amounts of emotional energy into the performances, too.

As a final aside; in perhaps a rather unfair comparison with my own orchestra, it was wonderful to be able to listen to the string section without any sense of unease, expectation of disaster or simply dread... Long may professional orchestras continue!

I am grateful for having had and taken the opportunity to experience (yes!) that piece live and look forward to living music more often. (Are you listening, kids?)

Ah, no. Not yet.