During the two years of the plague, Johannes Brahms became the composer I miss the most. The works of other composers can be more or less satisfied through recording, radio, and online listening, but Brahms's works cannot be enjoyed in such a remote way. He is the most authentic composer – rich in texture and powerful in personality, which requires the listener to immerse himself in the overall music. Simply put, you have to be there.
Brahms depends on the concert hall. In the words of Otto Clemperer, listening to a record of his work is like having sex with a picture of Marilyn Monroe. I've also listened to some of the most beloved records during the pandemic, but the only ones that have been "authentic" are live recordings of concerts – the most satisfying recordings include those left by Furtwängler during the war, Maris Janssons in Oslo, and Claudio Abbado in Berlin. The work from the studio failed to produce the Viennese music critic Eduard Hanslik's "inexhaustible fountain, full of sincere pleasure and rich research", a feature he characterized as the effect of Brahms's music.
Johannes Brahms's library at home
I'm mostly a Mahler fan, and this primitive need for Brahms surprised me, but it was all about surprises. Hanslik argues that while music can manipulate our emotions, Brahms's influence is more focused on imagination and fantasy. He was Captain Thomas Cook of the composer who took us to unheard of.
This late summer, I received a package for two consecutive days before preparing for a trip to Brahms. One was a recording of Bernard Heytinck's concert with the London Symphony Orchestra at Barbican Centre in 2003-2004, where I was there most of the time; The other was a recording by Adam Fisher with the Danish Chamber Orchestra last year. As soon as they listen, you can see the obvious difference. Hettinger pursued panoramic scanning, deploying a large orchestra on a vast musical front; Fisher boldly stripped Brahms to a Mozart scale, leaving no room for error. Switching between these two versions, you can experience the signature dishes of both restaurants – Dutch Muffins from Hettingke and Budapest Spicy from Fisher.
Bernard Heytinke works with the London Symphony Orchestra brahms
Adam Fisher conducts the Complete Brahms Symphony recorded by the Danish Chamber Orchestra
The test of any brahms symphony complete collection begins at the end of the First Symphony, which is inevitably hailed as Beethoven's tenth, as it was when it came out half a century after Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. Brahms spent twenty years on his first symphony, allowing it to be published until listeners in six cities gave it a standing ovation. The First Symphony was premiered in 1876, the year Wagner's Ring of the Nibelungen debuted in its entirety, in an attempt to conquer a new world. Wagner's followers considered the symphony to be regressive or even reactionary. Brahms was in his early forties, and he didn't get a cheap return from his audience or performers. Brahms made us dig deeper.
The end of Symphony No. 1 is as tough as any sharp bend in the Rhine in Wagner. Many conductors are cathartically forced to promote in the process of leading to the final grand theme, rumbling like the Hell's Angels Biker Party on The Fourth of July; Karajan, Salty and Bernstein were the worst offenders. A true Brahms interpreter will let that melody grow organically from the surrounding soil without any compulsion or chemical induction. Hettingke is an organic gardener, while Fisher is an interior designer. They all created a precisely calibrated, slow-moving sense of overall satisfaction that was the perfect score for Brahms's final movement.
Although the two sets of records are different from each other, I love them equally. The London Symphony Orchestra, adjusted by the late master producer James Malinson, sounds more rounded than I can remember, and if the Danish sound is close to the self-resistance of all vegetarians, the band players have achieved brilliant results through cumulative efforts. My preferences are different every time I listen. Fisher's rustic interpretation of the pastoral Second Symphony brings more depth to it, while Hettinger's grandiose efforts in the Third Symphony are overwhelmingly bold. For most of The Fourth Symphony, I was persuaded by minimalism from Copenhagen, although the pride from London was better at the end.
If I'm not specific enough, I immersed myself in top-notch Brahms music and spent an absolutely impactful week, the largest dose of the best symphony one could ever get. The London Symphony Orchestra's set of records includes works such as The Double Concerto, the Tragic Overture and The Second Serenade, but it is the Symphony that is paramount, and such an interpretation can reinvigorate anyone's confidence in the enduring vitality of these works that have stood the test of time.
Why this is so is not easy to express. Hanslik and I have the same problem. He once described the Third Symphony as "a feast for music lovers and performers, but not for music critics, [their]... Persuasiveness declines in inverse proportion to the composer". Brahms's work is always greater and harder to describe than when he first listened to it. He can reach remote corners of the psyche, often with considerable time delays, so a symphony may affect the frontal lobes of the listener only a week or two after it enters the ear. Brahms is a constant surprise gift.
For those who need a quick gratification, I recommend his songs for vocal and piano, which are aimed at afternoon tea in the living room, without ambition or pretense. As I emerged from the symphony, I received a live recording of a solo recital of Brahms art songs by German soprano Anna Lucia Richter from pentatonic records and Israeli pianist Amir Buschakovitz. Unlike many young singers, Richter is not half harsh even when he is trying to perform, almost whispering lullabies that we all have heard before going to bed. Every time I listen to these art songs, I am amazed at their richness and variety. Brahms's works are always new, full of color and brilliance, without him, life would be black and white. As the years of the plague passed, I was thankful for brahms's blessing every morning.