by Ben Hogwood picture (c) Linz Tourismus Tom Son

Today marks the 200^th anniversary of the birth of composer Anton Bruckner.

Bruckner is a ‘marmite’ figure in classical music. His symphonies, the calling cards of his small but profound output, divide opinion greatly. The later works, I am sure, would appeal to those approaching from the direction of progressive rock, and are fiercely admired by a great many devoted classical music listeners. They create sound worlds unlike any other composer, ‘cathedrals in sound’ in which he uses distinctive themes, deceptively simple techniques, and extended forms that mean most of his symphonic works run for an hour or more. Other ears, however, remain unmoved, immune to the great expanses of texture and intensity.

What cannot be disputed is that Bruckner’s music is instantly recognisable as his, especially when it is one of those nine numbered symphonies. In the last year a host of recordings have appeared of the whole cycle, along with a myriad of different – if authentic – performing versions. A box set round-up of all these versions is due to appear on Naxos on 13 September, collecting all the individual volumes of Bruckner recorded by the Bruckner Orchester Linz under Markus Poschner for the Capriccio label:

My personal favourite among the symphonies is the mighty Eighth, which has received a number of classic recordings. Those by Reginald Goodall, Herbert von Karajan, Carlo Maria Giulini and – especially – Gunter Wand, have all left a mark. The latter is an incredible account, recorded in 1987 in Lübeck Cathedral:

Yet I did also want to draw some attention to Bruckner’s music for voices and for strings, in case you want to try something different. The motets for unaccompanied choir are profound and beautiful – while the Te Deum is a many-splendoured thing, as are the three masses for chorus and orchestra.

Here, too, is the String Quintet in F major, a big-boned piece with music of real poise and power. The slow movement shows how Bruckner can write delicate music, the Scherzo is an elusive dance, while the outer movements show what an unusual yet affective style he has, able to wring every last drop of power from a seemingly small ensemble:

Published post no.2,291 – Wednesday 3 September 2024