Barbirolli Conducts Brahms – Symphonies Nos. 3 & 4 – Pristine Audio

by Audiophile Audition | Mar 14, 2026 | Classical CD Reviews, Classical Reissue Reviews

BRAHMS: Symphony No. 3 in F Major, Op. 90; Symphony No. 4 in E Minor, Op. 98 – Hallé Orchestra/ Sir John Barbirolli – Pristine Audio PASC 764 (71:59) [www.pristineclassical.com] ****:

Andrew Rose and Pristine restore two persuasive readings of the Brahms symphonies three and four led by Sir John Barbirolli (1899-1970), recorded 7-10 May 1952 (Op. 90) and 18-19 September 1959 (Op. 98) at the Free Trade Hall, Manchester.  Andrew Rose does not refer to the Bluebird Classics (LBC 1042) incarnation of the F Major Symphony which had its UK release in 1953, so I suppose this performance, notable for its lyrically intense energy, differs from that American issue. The E Minor Symphony, recorded in stereo sound, receives a full, even lush, response in terms of weight and instrumental texture. 

Barbirolli’s approach to the first movement Allegro con brio of the 1883 Symphony No. 3 in F Major seems to combine the linear, literal drive of Toscanini with the natural warmth of Bruno Walter, a fierce rhythmic alertness and a grand, singing line. The essential waltz pulse finds a nostalgia, though esoteric, in the (Schumann-influenced) F-A-flat-F motif that persists in an uneasy balance of major and minor. The Hallé woodwinds carry the burden of interior syncopation with warm clarity, while the string line neither sags nor yields to maudlin phraseology. We recall that the Brahms conception of classical architecture, its “unity of effect” (to cite Poe), made this symphony the very model of such writing for Edward Elgar. 

The second movement, Andante in C major, endures as among the composer’s most beautiful, nostalgically bucolic, movements, opening as a 4/4 cassation or wind serenade. The beguiling warmth of the Hallé strings soon blends in and evolves a throbbing, heartfelt melody capable of sweet passion. That the rocking music lies in modified sonata form never occurs to us, since the seamless evolution of melody and transparent textures proceeds in a meditative, persuasive course that constantly hints at the motifs from the symphony’s outset.  The third movement, Poco allegretto in C minor, projects a wistfully modified waltz in 3/8, which first made its impact on this listener in the movie Undercurrent, with Taylor, Hepburn, and Mitchum. Again, Barbirolli savors the long lines that flow over a pulsing and flowery bass and woodwind texture. The middle section has its moment of lyrical mystery before returning, on a diminuendo pedal point and horn entry, to the opening waltz. 

The last movement Allegro – Un poco sostenuto (2/2) resolves issues among Brahms, Schumann, and Beethoven, tying all the intimations of his opening subject together in a “fateful” mix that includes Beethoven’s “fate“ motif and Schumann’s Rhenish Symphony. At the last, the Hallé’s muted violas will bring the mighty course of this movement to a close, entirely cyclical, as the opening motif rears up once more, softly but eloquently. Barbirolli’s is a generous performance, rich in texture and sympathy, though not an “epic” account on the level of Furtwangler, Klemperer, and Toscanini, but singularly warm in it embrace of a great composer. 

The 1959 reading of the E Minor Symphony has broad tempos and an elastic, dramatic approach in the opening Allegro non troppo that renders the many “thirds” intervals into a seamless, tragic evocation in crepuscular colors. The Hallé woodwinds virtually whistle their transparent lines against the falling motif of the strings, a touch of wistful nostalgia in the course of a mighty, unbending line to the counterpoints that signal the composer’s epic resolutions. The transition to the recapitulation enjoys a tearful nostalgia, informed by the alert, syncopated counterpoints. The wind and brass regimen utter martial, if resigned, declamations, moving inexorably to a sterling memory of bucolic rapture. The dark undercurrents soon emerge to claim their due, the Hallé timpani in full throttle, and the coda unleashed by Barbirolli releases a gravitas worthy of the finer Brahms interpreters.  

The Andante moderato in E major, 6/8, imparts its nostalgia early, in the opening horn solo set in the Phrygian mode of E, that likes to modulate (via clarinet and pizzicato strings) into B major for a series of yearning variations. The sonic ambiance here projects a particularly rich tone. Nobly intimate, the procession will acquire a spiritual largesse from the upper strings and cello line, molded by Barbirolli in warm, plastic, colors. At moments, the aura becomes devotional, a bucolic hymn in the form of a serenade. Some moments of dazzling polyphony, and the music asserts itself with epic vigor in martial terms. Then, the broad theme of ardent reconciliation, a huge breath from Barbirolli. The procession, in hushed tones, returns, this time with added, tremolo filigree, arpeggiated, a coda of intense, valedictory pathos.

The third movement Allegro giocoso, 2/4 in C, remains the unique scherzo in the Brahms symphonic oeuvre. But who else writes scherzos in sonata form? The music buoyantly moves into a hurtled G major, alert and rhythmically articulate from Barbirolli.
What passes for a Trio section, so abruptly, eases the tension a mite, only to tumble once more into the dervish antics of the da capo, rife with colors from triangle and bass drum. A whiplash coda, still wanting to demonstrate its “learned” propensities, gallops to a decisive, final note, a blazing three thumps. 

The famous final movement, Allegro energico e passionato, offers a contradiction in terms endemic to the Brahms character: an extended treatment of an 8-messure theme from Bach’s Cantata 150, it plays as an antique Chaconne or Passacaglia in thirty-two, diverse color variants. The romantic impulse somehow endures through the scholastic procedure, often assuming an intimate or ecstatic energy. The tension between E minor and C major increases with mounting potency, suddenly bursting forth with a resolve that reminded me of my first audition of this mighty work, under Serge Koussevitzky. The alter playing of the Hallé flute finds equal pungency in the brass and strings. The final C major interlude once more sounds like a transparent serenade, until the heavy strings urge us to the peroration, the brass chaconne against the huge impulses from the exuberant strings, brass syncopes. Finally, the urgent rush to judgment of the coda, the composer’s swan-song to the symphonic genre which only slowly gestated in his erudite consciousness to achieve grand expression

—Gary Lemco

Mendelssohn Cello Sonatas – Nikolai Graudan, cello; Joanne Graudan, piano – Forgotten Records

by Audiophile Audition | Mar 9, 2026 | Classical CD Reviews, Classical Reissue Reviews

MENDELSSOHN: Cello Sonata No. 1 in B-flat Major, Op. 45; Cello Sonata No. 2 in D Major, Op. 58 – Nikolai Graudan, cello/ Joanna Graudan, piano – Forgotten Records FR 2455 (47:05) [www.forgottenrecords.com] ****:

Forgotten Records revives the 1949 performances (on Vox) of the two Mendelssohn cello sonatas, as performed by Nikolai Graudan (1896-1964) and his wife Joanna Graudan (1905-1993), a couple whose musicianship has been credited with “probity” by Harold C. Schonberg of The New York Times in 1951. Both husband and wife enjoyed the support of conductor Dimitri Mitropoulos: Nikolaus, as principal cellist of the Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra, and Joanna as the soloist for the MSO recording of Mendelssohn’s Capriccio brillant. 

The program opens with Mendelssohn’s 1838 Cello Sonata in B-flat Major, originally conceived for the composer’s younger brother Paul, a banker and amateur cellist. The Allegro vivace theme appears divided into octaves between the participants and projects an austerely heavy tread, with Nikolai Graudan “as steady as a blockhouse,” to quote Schonberg’s 1951 assessment. The mood of this big first movement lightens though with fierce energy, much of the piano arpeggios quite voluptuous. The tune in dotted rhythm has Mendelssohn’s characteristic martial attractiveness. Mendelssohn’s model remains clearly Beethoven, who virtually invented the cello sonata genre. Nikolai Graudan’ tone, thin and piercing at times, becomes more sensuous when he allows the bow a long cantilena. The coda cascades with warm authority. 

Dotted rhythm dictates the course of the second movement Andante, a delicate dance set in the minor mode. The atmosphere, courtly in character, has the keyboard proceed in canon over a drawn pedal. The secondary melody shows Nikolai Graudan to more lyrical, songful effect. A gently martial development places the piano against the cello’s pizzicato before the roles reverse, sending the cello into lower, throaty register. The march eventually slows its momentum, ending quietly in a manner reminiscent of Beethoven.

The last movement, Allegro assai, returns to the solemn opening of the sonata, but with new harmonization it becomes a lively, ardent romance in rondo form. Now we hear Joanna Graudan’s contribution to the Capriccio brillant in lithe colors. Mendelssohn has saved his virtuoso potential for this last movement, and the gruff exclamations from Nikolai play against the quicksilver runs of Joanna. Having achieved considerable sweep, the music accumulates a symphonic girth that gently cedes to quietly liquid motion from the keyboard. A bit of graininess of the original Vox LP is audible.

The more familiar Cello Sonata No. 2 in D Major (1842) results from Mendelssohn’s association with Count Mateusz Wielhorski, a Polish-Russian nobleman and accomplished amateur cellist who owned a Stradivarius instrument.  Commentators note that the opening movement, Allegro assai vivace derives from an unpublished piano sonata in G major, but the musical material owes more to the Italian Symphony and its boisterous, spontaneous energy. Joanna Graudan’s repeated notes carry the sunny impulse while Niklai’s cello adds a dark color to the broad contour of the melody. Joanna’s percussive notes ring with clear authority, while Nikolai’s bass tones and pedal effects shimmer resonantly.  A symphonic explosiveness characterizes their recap of the music in sonata form, vehement and ardently articulate. 

No coincidence informs the second movement, Allegretto scherzando, conceived at the same time Mendelssohn worked on his amazing, elfin, incidental music for A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Set in B minor, the virtuosic caprice opens to a more lyrical melody in the middle section, another of the composer’s “songs without words.” The da capo proves a mite more incisive than it had at first, especially given Joanna speed of execution.

The Adagio in G major pays homage to Mendelssohn’s deep, abiding veneration of J.S. Bach. Starting with hymnal, organ riffs from the keyboard, Mendelssohn alludes to “Es ist vollbracht” from Bach’s St. John Passion. The cello carries the melodic urgency of the movement in recitative marked appassionato ed animato.  The keyboard shares the sweetness of the melodic occasion before the consoling coda that openly quotes the recitative from Bach’s Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue in D minor, BWV 903. 

The last movement, Allegro assai, capitalizes on the equality of instrumental parts: we encounter a bustling tour de force virtuosic and restless whose intensity heightens with each passing repetition of the main theme. Joanna Graudan’ s runs and staccato notes resonate, even as her husband sings in a most declamatory fashion.

–Gary Lemco  

The Beecham Collection – Beethoven 8th Symphony; Strauss Ein Heldeneben – SOMM Recordings

by Audiophile Audition | Mar 6, 2026 | Classical CD Reviews, Classical Reissue Reviews

BEETHOVEN: Symphony No. 8 in F Major, Op. 93; R. STRAUSS: Ein Heldenleben, Op. 40 – Arthur Leavins, violin/ Royal Philharmonic Orchestra/ Sir Thomas Beecham – SOMM-Beecham 33 (67:56) [Distr. by Naxos] *****:

SOMM and audio restoration producer and engineer Lani Spahr restore a vivacious, even thrilling, pair of 1956 performances from the “inimitable” Sir Thomas Beeecham (1879-1961) at the helm of his Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, from respectively 17 October (Beethoven) and 12 December (Strauss). Both works, the Beethoven Eighth and the Strauss symphonic poem Ein Heldenleben, remained among Beecham’s favorite scores, through which his unbuttoned enthusiasm became a palpable Force of Nature.

From the outset of Beethoven’s first movement, Allegro vivace e con brio, Beecham sets a whirlwind tempo that sallies forth without a misstep. More than one commentator has christened the Beecham sound “torrential,” and this assault into Beethoven’s fecund and boisterous Symphony No. 8 (1814) proves true to form. The composer held this delightfully eccentric score in especial affection, and its means, forever Classical in design and architecture, reveal a saucy and mischievous turn where Haydn and Mozart remain conventional.  Beecham has the second movement Allegretto scherzando chug along in 16^th note parodies of the at-the-time-new metronome, his woodwinds, especially the bassoon, in fine fettle.

Eventually, the mechanism overwinds itself and flies off into space. A rural roughness guides the Tempo di menuetto, too sturdy to qualify as courtly music. Though the Trio, marked by horn and clarinet solos, bears aspects of a cassation, the impulse urges to grow larger, beyond a mere soothing interlude. The finale, a rough-house Allegro vivace, allows Beecham to invest his patented bombast in full Technicolor, mischievous and dynamically explosive. The spaces between notes drip vital energy, and the (sometimes contrapuntal) evolution of the movement, with our good friend the bassoon, rollicks forward to its exorbitant coda with splendid resolve, a definitive Eighth!

Richard Strauss conceived his 1899 symphonic poem Ein Heldenleben as a musical glorification of his own ego; but beyond that, the score celebrates his esteemed, horn-player father Franz, his wife Pauline, and even Beethoven’s Eroica, sharing the same key of E-flat major and identifiable scalar passages. The score demands huge forces well disciplined to the virtuoso requirements in technique and temperament.

Beecham launches the six-movement colossus with an epic sense of scale, given the central theme’s occupying three-and-one-half octaves. After an appropriately raucous attack by the hero’s critics, The Hero’s Helpmate appears, rather in an understated solo volley by Arthus Leavins. Despite some emotional, moody contortions in this section, wife Pauline evokes the passionate ardor worthy of a lifetime partner. If a sense of marital contention lies within the love-scene, the real conflict reveals itself in the polyphonic assaults of section IV: The Hero’s Battlefield. 

Husband and wife take up their “sea of troubles” in dramatic fanfare, given Beecham’s brass and battery forces that shine forth. As an exercise in orchestral, contrapuntal discipline, the craft and its realization have few peers. The RPO cymbals generate a life force of their own, along with thunderous emanations from brass and timpani.  The ardent reprise of the Hero theme segues into triumphant victory, so that he may now indulge the fruits of his various labors: The Hero’s Works for Peace.

A virtual litany of the Strauss oeuvre, we hear allusions to Guntram, Don Juan, Also Sprach Zarathustra, Tod und Verklärung, Don Quixote, and Till Eulenspiegel. Beecham sets aa leisurely pace for basking reflection, especially poignant in the RPO woodwinds and strings. Each musical allusion floats within its own, warm halo. The Hero may now ascend to Valhalla, the string motif almost reminiscent of Wagner’s Rienzi, now intertwined with the last movement from the Eroica. Twitters from the Adversaries still endure, since history will persist in controversy. But the consolations of love and companionship, along with well-wrought celebrity find resolution in The Hero’s Retirement from this World, a more optimistic reading of Tod und Verklärung. The applause erupting from Royal Festival Hall suggests that Sir Thomas Beecham shares the laurels with the composer.

—Gary Lemco