Although increasingly rejected by scholars, the label Sturm und Drang (‘Storm and Stress’), which derives from the slightly later German literary movement of that name, is still widely used to describe the symphonies Haydn wrote during the late 1760s and early 1770s. Storm and stress is, of course, most evident in the half-dozen minor-key symphonies of this period, which were once thought to signify a ‘romantic crisis’ (in this least confessional of composers!), but are now viewed in a wider context, as the finest examples in a whole series of minor-key symphonies by such composers as Vanhal, Mozart and even the urbane J. C. Bach.
Several of the major-key works here also have their share of turbulence, above all No. 46, in the (for late-eighteenth-century audiences) bizarre key of B major. Others, though, employ the fundamentally cheerful, Italianate musical language of the day with a new force, originality and, as in movements like the ‘limping’ Minuet of No. 58, comic eccentricity. No. 42 in D has an unprecedented amplitude and harmonic breadth, No. 43 a mingled fire and reflective lyricism, while No. 48, the erroneously named Maria Theresia, is one of the noblest and most imposing in a line of eighteenth-century C major ceremonial symphonies. Stormy, majestic or playful, virtually every work here reflects Haydn’s restless exploration of the symphony’s expressive and intellectual potential during these years, whether in an enhanced use of counterpoint, heightened theatrical contrasts or a more intensive, far-reaching approach to thematic development.
Some or all of these symphonies have been well served by previous period-instrument recordings, notably from Bruno Weil and Tafelmusik (Sony Classical), Hogwood and the AAM (L’Oiseau-Lyre) and Pinnock and The English Concert (Archiv). But this new set – 19 works on five discs – more than holds its own with the competition. Bruggen is certainly the most ‘romantic’ of the conductors in this repertoire: and he has little truck with the smart tempos and clean-cut phrasing favoured by Hogwood and Weil, in particular. Outer movements are often surprisingly broad – Bruggen conveys more surely than anyone, for instance, the unusual scale and reach of No. 42’s opening Moderato e maestoso, while the first and last movements of the C minor, No. 52, are markedly slower than on any of the rival versions, yet more than compensate in their strength of rhythm and pungency of attack, their wonderfully transparent textures (horns and, especially, oboes cut through more tellingly than in any other version) and in the greater weight of string tone afforded by the broader speeds. Here and elsewhere Bruggen phrases the lyrical music as expressively as any traditional conductor (as in the lingering envoi in the first-movement coda at 6'27''), and reveals a strong control of cumulative symphonic tensions.
Slow movements are shaped with all the refinement and chamber-musical delicacy heard on Pinnock’s recordings, and often with a degree more affection. The sublime Adagio of the Trauersinfonie, No. 44, is another movement to gain from Bruggen’s more spacious tempo; and the equally beautiful Adagio of No. 43 is rich in expressive detail: the tender pointing of the viola line in the broad sequences at the start of the development (from 4'58''), is one instance among many, and typical of these performances as a whole. Exceptionally, the first Adagio of the Farewell is taken quite swiftly, like a slow minuet, though Bruggen vindicates his choice of tempo with his intensity of line and sensitivity to Haydn’s remote, speculative modulations.
In one or two of the faster movements Bruggen’s tempo is arguably a notch too expansive, above all in the first movement of the C major, No. 41, where momentum is further undermined by frequent ritardandos. He also shows an intermittent fondness for shading away at cadences, notably in the opening movement of the Lamentatione, No. 26, where the diminuendos in the opening paragraph compromise the music’s starkness. Equally controversial is his speeding up for the trios of several of the minuets, most blatantly in that of La Passione, though his tempos for the minuets themselves are thoughtfully chosen, ranging from the measured, elegiac No. 26 (an unusual and effective reading) to the stinging one-in-a-bar quasi-scherzo of No. 52. The beautiful, melancholy Minuet of No. 46 is much broader than on any rival period version, to its advantage; and Bruggen hilariously heightens the ‘limping’ effect in the Minuet of No. 58 with outrageous unmarked sforzandos.
Like Hogwood and Weil, but unlike Pinnock (and Goodman, on his Hyperion recordings of some of these symphonies), Bruggen eschews a harpsichord continuo – not strictly necessary in these works – though he rightly reinforces the bass-line with a clearly audible bassoon. And, like Pinnock, he omits second-time repeats in all but a few sonata movements, a small price to pay for an average of nearly four symphonies per disc. While I shall continue to enjoy Pinnock and Weil (especially his thrilling Farewell), more so than the neat but slightly bland Hogwood, Bruggen’s performances, though occasionally questionable, are the most individual in their shaping and characterization, and will, I suspect, be the ones I return to most often. The playing of the OAE is both brilliant and refined (it was criminal not to name the superlative horn players), and the recording, natural, detailed and atmospheric, confirms the Blackheath Concert Halls as an ideal venue for this repertoire. And if you’re still undecided, this new set – five well-filled discs for the price of four – offers a serious price advantage over the other contenders. '