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David Atherton – Vienna: From Mozart to Schoenberg

Box Set Deep-Dive

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Ben Hogwood
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Monochrome photo of David Atherton in rehearsalIn late 1967, David Atherton was organising a small number of concerts in London, his aim to present new music through the eyes of established instrumentalists. So it was that on 24th January 1968, at the Queen Elizabeth Hall, he conducted a concert of Henze, Richard Strauss and the world premiere of John Tavener’s cantata The Whale. The London Sinfonietta was born.

The ensemble’s players were principals such as Barry Tuckwell (horn), Elgar Howarth (trumpet) and Antony Pay (clarinet), ensuring the Sinfonietta were off to an auspicious start. Atherton led with characteristic modesty and respect to the music, earning plaudits for his complementary programming.

In his engaging booklet note accompanying this box set, Peter Quantrill details the Sinfonietta’s careful placement of music from different eras, united through place or compositional function. This approach extended to the recordings they started making in the early 1970s. Never ones to shirk a challenge, their first assignment, commissioned by Decca, was a series of works by Schoenberg, begun in 1973. They sit at the heart of this attractive new Eloquence set, entitled Vienna: From Mozart to Schoenberg. For Atherton realised the value of pairing the Schoenberg recordings with those of an earlier Viennese vintage, revealing Mozart’s serenades as natural ancestors to those from the ‘enfant terrible’.

From Schoenberg the recordings extend naturally to his pupil Roberto Gerhard, and on to Ligeti – while from Mozart the Sinfonietta took the direction of Antony Pay in recording two of Louis Spohr’s clarinet concertos, also adding a collection of seldom heard Schubert choral works with the London Sinfonietta Voices. Undocumented in the box set, but equally vital, are excursions from Vienna to Berlin made in the form of two Kurt Weill albums, recorded for Deutsche Grammophon in 1975.

The set begins with the wondrous sonorities of Mozart’s ‘Gran Partita’ serenade. This is quite a roomy recording, but one suiting the expansive wind choirs. An imposing start softens to a lovely sense of enjoyment as the flourishes of the Allegro molto take hold, repeats observed. The Menuetto is a very pleasant amble, with a lovely first trio for the clarinets and basset horns and a second trio of contrasts between bustling activity and calm asides. The Romanza is the intimate heart of the work, affectionately played, though the bassoon bursts out of the blocks in its central Allegretto. The Rondo finale is full of vigour.

Complementing the ‘Gran Partita’ are Mozart’s two masterful Serenades for eight wind instruments, in C minor and E flat major. The full ensemble makes a wonderfully rich sound in the C minor minuet, where the theme and variations are a highlight, in particular the way the oboes relish the turn to C major. The E flat enjoys a perky minuet and a brisk finale to blow away the cobwebs.

A helpful listening program for this set is to follow a work by Mozart with one by Schoenberg. It is instructive to note the latter composer’s skill in writing for woodwind in a complex work such as the Wind Quintet, where the “dialogue between tradition and innovation” identified by Arnold Whittall are alive. Here, traditional generic forms – scherzo and rondo – operate within a whole new harmonic language, with themes recognisable more for their rhythmic profile or feeling than melodic or harmonic use.

Atherton’s warm interpretation brings with it moments of profound emotion – the horn solo closing the first movement a special case in point. The piece is brilliantly played and phrased, the players negotiating tricky melodies with deceptive ease and grace, also finding the urgency and purpose of the faster dialogue. The finale playful and exuberant, going to extremes of register and mood, with heroic playing to master the wide intervals of the central section.

Atherton’s Schoenberg interpretations link firmly to the composer’s Romantic past, from Verklärte Nacht to even the most fully realised twelve-tone works. It is common – and indeed lazy – practice to believe that serial composition robs the music of any emotion, and these recordings help prove the point. The melodies may often have awkward contours, but when given the expression the London Sinfonietta instrumentalists afford the music, it is easy to hear afresh. Take the Chamber Symphony No.1 – a piece on the edge of tonality – but with hummable themes. This formidable piece is brilliantly played, the recording standing up well in spite of its age.

Atherton celebrating the London Sinfonietta's fiftieth anniversary in 2018.

Atherton celebrating the London Sinfonietta's fiftieth anniversary at the Royal Festival Hall in 2018.

Pierrot Lunaire fares well, the versatility of reciter and soprano Mary Thomas yielding a wide range of characterisations, from an enchanted 'Eine blasse Wäscherin' to the manic 'Nacht' and playful 'Der Mondfleck'. The ensemble adds beautifully shaded detail to 'Der Dandy', Atherton’s direction notable for its colour and clarity, while Thomas and flautist Sebastian Bell judge their duet on 'Der Kranke Mond' exquisitely.

Two accompanying Schoenberg rarities are worth highlighting, with Ein Stelldichein an Expressionist piece for the unusual combination of oboe, clarinet, violin, cello and piano. The brief but ethereal Herzgewächse features a virtuoso vocal performance from June Barton, reaching a spectacular high near the close.

Verklärte Nacht itself is expertly paced and controlled, from the slow and quite deliberate opening to a surge of passion towards the start of the Breiter section. There are some beautifully burnished string textures, even though the recording shows its age a little round the edges, while Atherton secures impressive dynamic control.

The Serenade has a very individual sound world, with spidery textures around the edge of the bustling March. At times Schoenberg’s music can be brusque, though the textures – with John Williams’s lean guitar and Antony Pay’s brilliant clarinet taking the lead for the Menuett – are never less than involving. The spirit of the dance is strong – elegant and graceful in the Variationen, or with a touching ballroom number for the Tanzscene, surely looking back to older Vienna. The finale’s busy activity is given rhythmic punctuation by the guitar.

The multi-instrument Suite finds an Ouverture teeming with activity, the atonal equivalent of a Bach orchestral suite. Atherton slows notably slows for a passionate violin solo from Nona Liddell, then drawing a curtain across for Liddell and pianist John Constable to engage in a slow, intimate dance, The Tanzschritte has moments of playfulness in its string portamenti, while the Gigue, rhythmically driven at times, becomes slower and more thoughtful towards the end and a final flourish.

A strong account of the Byron poem Ode to Napoleon is firmly managed by Gerald English, before Liddell and Constable give a passionate performance of the Phantasy, Schoenberg’s last published work.

Mozart and Schoenberg may lead the way in this set, but the supporting cast is both complementary and fascinating. Antony Pay plays both Spohr clarinet concertos with verve and wit, getting to the heart of the softer slow movements and pushing through a particularly virtuosic central section in the second concerto. There is an enjoyable contrast between the more serious tones of the first, in C minor, and the relative exuberance of the second, in E flat major.

The Schubert mass features excellent singing from the London Sinfonietta Voices, with some lovely solos from Phyllis Bryn-Julson and Anthony Rolfe Johnson in particular. Atherton handles with customary care, and Schubert’s melodies respond well to the lighter phrasing – the Benedictus in particular a treat. The accompanying Eine kleine Trauermusik, an early publication for wind nonet, is curiously touching.

Further afield, Stravinsky’s Agon is a welcome inclusion, offering further evidence that 12-tone writing and similar practice do not equal dry and featureless music. Quite the opposite, for Stravinsky’s ballet, with an unnamed plot, is a colourful patchwork of dances, with tempi ideally judged, lean textures and colourful contributions complemented by a wide range of dynamic contrasts emphasising Stravinsky’s spatial awareness and dramatic instincts. Complementing this is a virtuosic account of the Berg Chamber Concerto, notable for a particularly high voltage solo from György Pauk as the Adagio unfolds, and unwavering notes as it reaches a ghostly coda. Meanwhile pianist Paul Crossley is a commanding figure in the faster music.

The disc devoted to Roberto Gerhard is a revelation, presenting three of his late Zodiac pieces. Written as personal musical portraits, they are serial in execution but contain music of great colour and expression. Libra, the composer’s own star sign, takes flight in the hands of an unusual ensemble, its exotic colours boosted by a stellar contribution from guitarist John Williams and an expansive percussion section including three cymbals and a Korean woodblock. Atherton conducted the first performance in 1968 and has an unrivalled authority on the piece. Leo, the sign of Gerhard’s wife, captures the ‘lazy peacefulness’ and ‘terrific fighting power’ of the lion the composer identified, again in unusual instrumentation whose colour is a constant source of fascination. Gemini, meanwhile, is more acerbic, a ‘duo concertante’ for violin and piano brilliantly played by Nona Liddell and John Constable.

The two Weill albums are invaluable, in a marketplace where it remains a puzzle that his music has not been recorded more often. The musical Happy End premiered in Berlin in 1929, was not heard on Broadway until 1977, making this a pioneering recording. A rollicking mezzo-soprano song 'The Ballad of Hell’s Lily' is a highlight, sung with gusto by Meriel Dickinson, who also enjoys the jaunty melody and syncopations of 'The Sailor’s Song'. She begins the most famous song, 'Surabaya Johnny', at a whisper.

Meanwhile the Berlin Requiem has striking, darker colouring, helped by an extraordinary team of soloists including Philip Langridge, Benjamin Luxon and Michael Rippon. 'The Second Poem On The Unknown Soldier Beneath The Triumphal Arch' is a deeply moving recitative, Luxon really coming into his own initially just with accordion, then with sighing woodwind. It is hard to imagine a better performance of Kleine Dreigroschenmusik, enjoying the work’s abundance of melodic content and acidic humour. The 'Kanonen-Song' is appropriately spiky, while Mack The Knife has a soft-hearted charm. These are qualities extending to a similarly fine account of Mahagonny Songspiel, whose most notable moment is a seductive 'Alabama Song' from mezzos Meriel Dickinson and Mary Thomas.

Nona Liddell, the London Sinfonietta's Principal First Violin from 1970–1994

Nona Liddell, the London Sinfonietta's Principal First Violin from 1970–1994.

Finally Weill’s Violin Concerto, bringing out soloist Nona Liddell’s Baroque music sensibilities, qualities that helped in her recruitment to lead the London Sinfonietta. In the wrong hands this piece could be dry, but moments such as the pause for thought in the midst of the Andante’s commotion negate that completely thanks to Liddell’s silvery tone. The colourful Notturno finds the Sinfonietta wind and percussion creating a restless atmosphere.

Finally the Ligeti pieces, rich tapestries of colour, receiving their first recordings in the capable hands of Atherton. Melodien is a vivid and compelling piece, holding the listener in a spell, while the premiere recording of the double concerto, benefits from the skill of dedicatees Aurèle Nicolet and Heinz Holliger. Shrouded in secrecy initially, it holds an exquisite tension throughout that is only really released in the final bars. The Concerto for Thirteen Instrumentalists, so named to recognise the virtuoso role for each player, could hardly be bettered. Atherton directs a performance whose realisation of colour and texture, in addition to the sheer virtuosity, gives these pieces a rarefied atmosphere. The third movement has a moment akin to that of hurtling over the brow of a hill in a car, while the white-hot presto of the fourth is truly thrilling.

This is a box set to return to frequently, an effective juxtaposition of eras and a thought provoking listen at every turn. While revelling in the sheer brilliance of the London Sinfonietta musicians, many of whom are gratifyingly names in the booklet, it is a chance to marvel at the musicianship and modesty of their conductor, now finally receiving the spotlight his skill and guidance deserve. This is a set to which I will return frequently, guided by David Atherton’s unflinching gaze.

London Sinfonietta, David Atherton

Available Format: 13 CDs

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