Naxos have given us some exceptional symphonic recordings of late – Elgar No. 1 under George Hurst (2/94), Walton No. 1 from Paul Daniel (2/98) and Bax No. 1 from David Lloyd-Jones (4/98) – and this addition to their evolving Bruckner cycle by veteran Austrian conductor Georg Tintner is in a similar league.
It is a beautifully shaped performance, characterfully played and vividly recorded. What’s more, it is, in effect, a gramophone ‘first’, for though the original, 1872 version of Bruckner’s Second Symphony has been recorded elsewhere this new Tintner recording is the first to reach a wider market. As such, it looks set to become an important reference point, much as Inbal’s Teldec recording of the first version of the Fourth Symphony was (1/86).
Not that the differences between editions are quite as significant as they were in that case. Indeed, they are even less significant if the revised 1877 text of the Second Symphony is played complete, as it is on several extant recordings. What the earlier 1872 version principally offers is the reversal of the order of the two inner movements (the Scherzo now comes before the Andante), a full clutch of repeats in the Scherzo and Trio, a rather longer development section in the finale, various small changes to the orchestration and the absence of some of the more meretricious tempo markings, such as the Sehr schnell which appears in the 1877 edition over the first movement’s concluding 17 bars. What is appealing about the full monty – I use the word in the non-cinematographic sense – is the feeling it gives of the symphony’s Schubertian pedigree: heavenly length joining hands with a deep sense of melancholy and melodic Angst.
Which brings me to Tintner’s reading of the symphony, which is shrewd and affectionate, tellingly phrased and beautifully paced, the moves away from and back to the basic pulse nicely handled. This is Bruckner conducting as it used to be practised by Carl Schuricht, whose recordings of the Fifth and Ninth Symphonies will be in many collections.
There is also something reassuringly old-fashioned about the playing of the National Symphony Orchestra of Ireland. Make no mistake, it is a first-rate ensemble. The solo oboe-playing and ripe-toned bassoon first catch the attention; but the entire orchestra has the character of a well-to-do country cousin who is blessedly innocent of the more tiresome aspects of metropolitan life. As I say, an exceptional record.'