Record of the Year 2021

The end of another year. My CD purchases are becoming rarer as I explore the vast archives on my shelves. But disc of the year? It has to be Sabine Devieilhe singing angelically music by Bach and Handel. Raphaël Pichon and Pygmalion accompany. Glorious singing, glorious music.

Runner up is Elgar's violin concerto, sensitively played by Renaud Capuçon and the LSO. Despite his often blustering exterior, Elgar was a sensitive soul and the playing of his violin concerto should reflect this.

So a duo of French performers for my CDs of the year. Bravo les français!

Bach's Mass in B minor with Otto Klemperer

Christmas Day, and time to celebrate with Bach's Mass in Minor and a bottle of 10 year old Laphroaig whisky. I have always considered the Bach Mass to be one of the three peaks of music. It never fails to move and invigorate me with its sheer level of inspiration and supreme craft. I have seven recorded versions on my shelves, accumulated over the decades. But the one I chose today was the 1967 recording with Otto Klemperer conducting the Philharmonia, with Agnes Giebel, Janet Baker, Nicolai Gedda, Hermann Prey, and Franz Crass.

Klemperer was no old-fashioned traditionalist, but he was steeped in the German idiom of Bach performances. He refused to record the work when Walter Legge was in charge, since Legge insisted on using the full Philharmonia Chorus, whereas Klemperer insisted on a choir of no more than six singers per part in the choir. For this EMI recording, Klemperer used a choir of 48 voices, with the Philharmonia reduced to 50 instrumentalists. Ideal, in my view (and probably also in Bach's who would probably have been appalled at a Joshua Rifkin approach with just a choir of eight for his magnificent music).

In this performance we can admire the clarity of the music – both choral and orchestral. You can hear everything. Particularly memorable is Klemperer's insistence on clear balance, a forward trumpet, and an omnipresent bass part – something many German conductors appeared to favour, including Furtwängler. We can admire the top-quality singing and instrumental playing, together with the recorded quality and the balance. The only thing that jars a little to modern ears is the strong vibrato from the two female soloists; they don't sound like that nowadays when singing Bach, but in the end it's all a question of current fashion. All together, with Otto in charge, this jewel in music's crown receives a truly great performance; my other six recorded versions can stay on the shelves (I ditched Joshua Rifkin's version years ago).

Leila Schayegh surprises and pleases in Bach

There is music where a highly specific sound is indispensable: one thinks of the solitary bassoon in the Handel arias Scherza infida (Ariodante), or Pena tiranna (Amadigi). No getting round it; you have to have a mournful bassoon in those arias. When it comes to a violin strung and played in a “baroque” manner, it is a different matter. No one will persuade me that a “baroque” violin sounds better than a modern strung violin, nor that the baroque instrument adds a je ne sais quoi to the sound and performance of 18^th century music (whatever the current fashion critics may decree). The only thing I will concede is that in a large room or a small hall, a modern violin risks being somewhat over-loud unless played appropriately (I was once nearly deafened at a violin recital in London's Wigmore Hall by a modern violin and violinist playing at full Lamborghini throttle). This is not a factor in recordings, or in off-air listening, of course.

More out of curiosity rather than need (I already have fourteen sets of the six sonatas and partitas for solo violin by J.S. Bach) I bought a new set by a violinist I had never come across: Leila Schayegh, a Swiss woman playing a Guarneri violin “in a baroque manner”. I had never heard a Swiss violinist before, so I decided to buy the set on a whim. It turned out to be an excellent acquisition. Leila has a wonderful sense of dance rhythms, and of light and shade. Technically she is first class, with intelligent playing, and she sounds as if she loves and enjoys the music she is playing (most important in Bach performances). She even ends the ciaccona of the second partita in a way I like: quiet and meditative. And she get the ciaccona under 13 minutes, of which I heartily approve; some violinists really drag it out as if they are playing César Franck. Despite my fourteen alternative complete sets; after a couple of drinks, I might even declare Schayegh to be my favourite of them all.

David Fray and Bach's Goldberg Variations

I have never quite recovered from the shock of settling down to listen to Bach's Cantata BWV 1083 Tilge, Höchster, meine Sünden only to discover it was Pergolesi's Stabat Mater, given an orchestral make-over and some good new Protestant words, by Johann Sebastian. And then to discover the opening Praeludium of the solo violin partita in E major re-purposed as an organ solo in another Bach cantata. And then the first movement of the third Brandenburg concerto used (with added woodwind) as the prelude to another Bach cantata. So much for “authenticity” and bowing before the composer's wishes. Bach never appears to have been too worried as to exactly what forces played his music, and how. “Just feel the music and play it!” he probably told the wide variety of executants during his lifetime. And if a piece of his music pleased him, he re-cycled it in other works and for other instruments. So much for “authentic performance on instruments of the time”.

I have long held the view that the best way to appreciate Bach's music is to play it, and to discover the concealed rhythms and harmonies, although it's now many decades since I held a violin or viola under my chin and played Bach's music. Like Johann Sebastian, I am really not worried how Bach's music is played, and on what instrument (so long as it's not a saxophone, electronic guitar, full modern symphony orchestra, or a harpsichord). Open the music. Learn to play it. Feel the music. Play it.

Which is why I recently enjoyed listening to Beatrice Rana playing Bach's Goldberg Variations: she sat at the piano and did her own thing to the music. And now comes a worthy rival: David Fray sits at the piano and does his own thing to the music. Fray is cooler than Rana, but no less admirable. I now have a real problem when I want to listen to the Goldbergs. I can forget the other 11 versions of the work on my shelves and hum and ha over Rana v Fray. As David Fray has already shown in other Bach recordings, including four violin and keyboard sonatas with Renaud Capuçon; he has an excellent empathy with Bach's music.

Handel's Unsung Heroes

Handel was famous for surrounding himself with star singers, often imported from continental Europe to London. He was equally fussy when it came to star instrumentalists, enlisting and often importing a number of star players. It was an excellent idea for a new CD from Pentatone to concentrate on Handel opera numbers where oboe, bassoon, violin, trumpet or horn play a prominent part. As a lover of Handel's music, I enjoyed “Handel's Unsung Heroes”. The band is La Nuova Musica, and the director David Bates. The various instrumental stars are listed, and the CD includes my all-time favourite Handel aria: Scherza Infida, from Ariodante.

So far, so very good. I scowled a bit at the balance of the various solo singers, however. Lucy Crowe, Christine Rice and Iestyn Davies are recorded close-up and thus appear never to sing below forte, often overshadowing the star instruments that are supposed to be the raison d'être of this well-intentioned CD. Shame, and unusual for Pentatone to get things wrong.

Anton Bruckner and Bernard Haitink

Sorting through my large CD archives I came across a performance of Bruckner's 7^th symphony conducted by Bernard Haitink and played by the Berlin Philharmonic in the Albert Hall in London on 28^th August 2000. It's a magnificent performance of a magnificent symphony, and I had forgotten what a marvellous conductor Bernard Haitink was. With Haitink on the podium, it's just you and Bruckner with no flamboyant intermediary determined to make his mark.

I was an early convert to Bruckner's music, way back in my teens. I have always preferred his music to that of Mahler; they are often paired, having both stemmed from Austria and written nine long symphonies each. But there is a nobility and humanity in Bruckner's music; one does not readily associate nobility and humanity with Gustav Mahler. Listening to Bruckner's 7^th symphony was a thoroughly enjoyable one hour experience. One can understand Thomas Beecham's remark about nine pregnancies and eight miscarriages; anyone in a hurry doesn't need Bruckner. You just need to sit back and bask in the music.

My other pleasant surprise was the excellent sound of the old CD, recorded off-air by me in August 2000. The sumptuous orchestral sound came over well. An enjoyable visit to the archives.