HDTT HDCD142 (CD-R), 47:22 ***:
Taken from 1961 4-track tapes from the Command Classics label, the Brahms Third under William Steinberg certainly qualifies as among the most bucolic of readings – all interior lines, the woodwinds and French horns having taken the upbeat to the ambivalent F Major/F Minor motif and run with it in lush colors displayed in excellent sonics. Not having obeyed the first movement repeat, Steinberg moves the opening Allegro con brio into flute and viola riffs with smooth elegance, the phrases tripping to the cello and oboe motif over resonant pizzicati. Sizzling attacks in the second violins for the counter-theme to the last repetition of the free-but-lonely motto, which then sails away into the melancholy, blue ether.
The Andante begins as a darkly colored wind serenade, the Pittsburgh viola and French horn mellow luxury. The aerial main theme bursts forth singing its autumnal paean briefly, only to muse thoughtfully on loss and reminiscence. The woodwind sequences evolve into the strings’ haunted lament, Steinberg’s allowing the passions full sway until the four-note “fate” motif. The sonata-form recapitulation exudes a creamy sadness, etched in the hues of resignation. The serene nostalgia extends into the Poco allegretto, a long-lined, unsentimental song we recall provided the affect for the film Undercurrent with Robert Mitchum and Katherine Hepburn. Nice French horn work in the da capo to usher in the oboe and pulsating, agogic strings. The final Allegro, strictly business, does not dawdle; rather, it hurtles directly after its big brass chord into variations on Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. Resonant cellos move this shimmering music forward, the Pittsburgh making their points in icy colors. Pungent stretti into the counterpoints on the “fate” motif and then once again into the abyss, though more agitated. Admirers of Steinberg–and there are many–will relish his easy transitions, despite the fury of the musical figures. By the last notes, we feel that a singular vision of this symphony has been realized in seamless continuity.
Rather driven, the Tragic Overture displays the Pittsburgh resonance to full advantage, a perhaps over-brisk reading, a little breathless, but pungent and heraldic in the last pages. Steinberg approaches the through-composed opening materials as one evolving cloth which achieves a frenzied, taut energy and resolves itself to fate, in the manner of Macbeth. Without any definite program, the music elicits a mighty defiance in often thrilling ensemble.
–Gary Lemco
