Ligeti’s orchestral work Lontano is that rare bird, an undisputed masterpiece of the ‘avant-garde’ era with a foothold in popular culture (via the soundtrack of Kubrick’s The Shining) and an influence on musicians of countless stylistic persuasions. Given that pedigree, it is surprising that only a handful of recordings exist; this makes it the ideal work to inaugurate this new column.

Lontano dates from Ligeti’s heroic period of the mid-/late 1960s. With its astonishing range of orchestral sonorities and acute psychological ambiguity (as though of deep, even violent emotions experienced ‘da lontano’ – ‘from afar’), both the score and the acoustic experience invite infinite scrutiny. For the student too it’s an inexhaustible treat, but Ligeti’s insistence on the relationship between intention and result means that the references are clearly audible: to Bruckner (the unforgettable horn chord about 90 seconds from the end); to tonality, yet in a resolutely atonal idiom (the occasional use of fifths, as between the trumpet and low brass and winds between figures G and H); even to Josquin, whose famous La sol fa re mi motif is picked out by the flutes around 90 seconds in, at fig D (a quotation that’s never been pointed out as far as I know, but whose context makes plain that it’s deliberate). That last connection is important, given Ligeti’s coining of the term ‘micropolyphony’ to describe the score, which at its densest involves nearly 60 staves.

The first recording, made by the dedicatees, the Orchestra of the Sudwestfunk and its conductor, Ernest Bour, days before the premiere at Donaueschingen in October 1967, has stood the test of time remarkably well. It follows Ligeti’s prescribed duration (11 minutes) and the score’s key components are securely in place. (To those already mentioned I must add the tutti unison C about two minutes in, a moment of stillness fuelled by a core of explosive energy, like a star or a spinning top, which the sound recording captures perfectly.) The moment when the higher strings break free, soaring up to a top note, recalls the Requiem in its intensity. The recording has the requisite (indispensable) clarity, and though some later ones naturally have more presence, it remains a very fine benchmark.

The live recordings made under Ligeti’s supervision are by two of the world’s most prestigious Philharmonics, Vienna under Claudio Abbado and Berlin under Jonathan Nott, a sign of how far his star had risen by the late 1980s. Yet neither ensemble serves the work that well. Some of the high points mentioned earlier are fluffed, not least that horn chord, which neither orchestra manages to play together. (The unison C is marred by rogue orchestral artefacts in Abbado’s account.) The Viennese strings are compellingly powerful when the main argument lies with them, but the miscues are hard to overlook. Nott’s account is cleaner, but the balance means that some details in the winds and brass are less present; overall it lacks the inner steel and sonic brilliance on which the piece depends. More successful is the Gramophone Award-winning account by the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra (also live): recorded balance is very good, with strings to rival Abbado’s, and conductor George Benjamin teases out details that the last two accounts don’t (though this time, the stopped accent on that horn chord is missing).

But this survey has a happy ending. The most recent recording (tellingly) was done in the studio, like the very first, which it rivals and arguably outclasses. It’s not just that the sound recording captures every detail, or even that each one is finally in place (even that pesky horn chord, which Ligeti singled out as especially poignant: here at last you hear why). The real surprise is that Hannu Lintu exceeds the prescribed duration by half – and gets away with it. I’ll admit that I was sceptical when I first saw the timing, but with the longer duration you savour the details and the arc of the form to the full. Some might feel that the work loses something by that icy coolness (most audible in the unison C) but emotion isn’t lacking; rather, it is experienced at an even greater remove. In any case, the Finns are the first to offer a new and compellingly valid interpretation – proof that Lontano has (and will continue to have) more to offer.

Recommended recording

Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra / Hannu Lintu

Ondine (2/14)

It’s a case of alpha and omega. The most recent available recording at last realises the potential of the first, while also offering something new and (perhaps, finally) surpassing it: this ice-cold Lontano is a brilliant, distant star.