Symphony No. 8 In D Minor: Fantasia (Variazioni senza Tema): Moderato - Presto - Andante sostenuto - Allegretto - Andante non troppo - Allegro vivace - Andante sostenuto - Largamente - Tempo primo ma tranquillo
Symphony No. 8 In D Minor: Scherzo alla Marcia (per stromenti a fiato): Allegro alla marcia - Andante - Tempo primo
Symphony No. 8 In D Minor: Cavatina (per stromenti ad arco): Lento espressivo
Symphony No. 8 In D Minor: Toccata: Moderato maestoso
Movement Superscriptions For Sinfonia antartica: Prometheus Unbound: Prelude: 'To Suffer Woes Which Hope Thinks Infinite' (Percy Bysshe Shelley)
Movement Superscriptions For Sinfonia antartica: Book Of Common Prayer, Psalm 104: Schezro: 'There Go The Ships'
Movement Superscriptions For Sinfonia antartica: Hymn Before Sunrise, In The Vale Of Chamouni: Landscape: 'Ye Ice Falls!' (Samuel Taylor Coleridge)
Movement Superscriptions For Sinfonia antartica: The Sun Rising: Intermezzo: 'Love, All Alike,' (John Donne)
Movement Superscriptions For Sinfonia antartica: Message To The Public: Epilogue: 'I Do Not Regret This Journey;' (Captain Robert Falcon Scott)
Thomas F. Bertonneau | Oswego, NY United States | 10/23/2000
(4 out of 5 stars)
"The classic recorded performance of Ralph Vaughan Williams' "Sinfonia Antartica" (completed 1952) is Sir Adrian Boult's on EMI from the mid-1960s; a slightly later performance on RCA led by André Previn boasted superior sound but misjudged by prefacing each movement with spoken versions of RVW's epigraphs. (Thus interrupting the musical continuity in a score that depends heavily on a seamless transition from one mood to another.) Bernard Haitink (also on EMI) issued an "Antartica" about fifteen years ago, very close to Boult's in merit, but - in this day of classical-music démorale - "no longer available." Haitink's countryman, Kees Bakels, has "burned" a CD cycle of the RVW symphonies for Naxos, with the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra, and one entry therein couples the Eighth with the "Antartica" (ordinally the Seventh). As James Day notes in his book on RVW, the "Antartica" calls on the largest orchestra that the composer ever stipulated, with parts for organ, wind-machine, an enormous percussion battery, and wordless soprano-solo with female choral vocalise. The "Antartica" shares with the "Pastoral" and the Sixth the evocation of inhuman nature and of human courage pitted (heroically but vainly) against such nature. Boult grasped this aspect of the work, but the limited capacity of mid-60s analogue recording took its toll on the realization of his understanding. (The vinyl pressings also posed an obstacle. I owned the American Angel pressing as well as an EMI import; neither struck me as adequate.) Bakels, like Boult, sees that this is a grim account, a genuine sequel to the tragic E-Minor Symphony of 1947. Notice how he takes the crescendi in the Prelude, with the great climax at 1.50: It's truly "majestic," as the score says it should be; the ensuing Lento, with prominent xylophone and wordless voices, sounds very icy and haunted indeed. The Scherzo presents the danger of sounding too comical; Bakels avoids this pitfall. Of the symphony's core, the "Landscape" (Third Movement), Bakels makes just the inhuman, implacable, frigid monster that RVW must have had in mind, although the organist (beginning at 8.30) does not achieve quite the hard-edged quality that I recall from Boult. The Eighth Symphony is a less monumental score, but possesses a playful seriousness all its own. The Finale can become a welter of sound, as it did unfortunately in the Boult/EMI; but here it sounds forth in all its polyphonic glory, with the tuned percussion caught with great definition by the engineers."
A Tale of Two Eighths
Karl Henning | Boston, MA | 07/30/2001
(5 out of 5 stars)
"I think many listeners (and reviewers) will focus more on the seventh symphony; so I leave the seventh to them, although I greatly enjoy this recording of the seventh, and am even modestly grateful that the recited superscriptions are included at the end, where they do not interrupt the sequence of the symphony itself.The Vaughan Williams eighth symphony exhibits a few interesting parallels with the eighth symphony of the composer whose oeuvre established the "rule of nine" in the writing of symphonies: Beethoven.Beethoven's Opus 93 strikes some listeners as both "a step backwards" from the rambunctious and expansive seventh (with its electrifying "double scherzo" and achingly intense theme-and-variations slow movement), and a mystification before the grandiose Opus 125. It is something of a look back towards Haydn; it is charming, and elegant, and seems to do entirely without the dramatic musical rhetoric of which Beethoven's third, fifth and seventh symphonies provide ample and potent illustration. It is the sort of thing which "musical progressivists" say we composers cannot do; you can almost hear the phrase spoken, "you can never go back."Yet, in his eighth symphony, Beethoven succeeds, marvelously and musically; he does, and does not, "go back." Vaughan Williams does something of the same, in his eighth. Even though Vaughan Williams' seventh was composed originally as film music, and then adapted as a symphony in his `cycle' (or perhaps because of this), the eighth seems like a deliberate step away from musical dramtization, and into the realm of abstract, `pure' music, a music which functions on its own, not driven by any extra-musical `program.'Now, the `point' to which Beethoven does and does not go back, is Haydn; the generation before, and a composer with whom Beethoven had taken lessons. The `point' to which Vaughan Williams does and does not go back, is musical Impressionism, and specifically Ravel. Vaughan Williams had taken some lessons with Ravel; and the `return to pure music' in the eighth is doubly apt here, as part of Ravel's Impressionism is a sort of `romantic neo-classicism' exemplified in "Le Tombeau de Couperin" and the piano concertos.That Vaughan Williams made his eighth with the Beethoven-parallel in mind, seems to me confirmed in the opening of the second movement. Vaughan Williams' all-winds scherzo begins with too much of a `metronomic' gesture for this to be coincidental. This parallel does not become burdensome, because the `metronomic piece' functions differently in the two eighth symphonies: it is the slow movement in the Beethoven Op. 93, followed by the lovely Menuet and Trio (good heavens! didn't Beethoven realize how passé this was?), while in Vaughan Williams' eighth it serves as a scherzo followed by a richly beautiful slow movement for strings alone (in timbral balance of the string-less scherzo).Where Vaughan Williams `does not go back' is, about two-thirds into the first movement, where, after some moments of trumpet-&-string doublings which seemed to evoke the sound-world of Prokofiev, the relatively smooth calm of most of the movement yields to the sort of orchestral menace normally associated with Shostakovich. This fury lasts but a moment, and gives way again to the idyllic calm of the opening material, but here is a musical point at which you wonder if it is really possible to `go back' ....The last movement of the Vaughan Williams' eighth is bright and resplendent. It is almost mis-labeled; `toccata' traditionally means a `touched' piece, a keyboard work with figurations more characteristic of two hands at a keyboard, rather than a large ensemble of single-line instruments. But Vaughan Williams has a history of adapting the idea of the Toccata, as in his Toccata Marziale for band; and my musicological quibble does not get in the way of the piece, which reminds me more of a jubilant carillon.--Karl"
Unbelievable Sound Quality
Doc Sarvis | 03/17/2002
(5 out of 5 stars)
"The "Antarctica Symphony" portion of this disk has been called "the best digital recording ever made", and is often recommended for use as a demonstration disk on high-end audio equipment. One listen and you'll understand why...this is truly a sonic marvel.Not a bad accomplishment for budget-price label Naxos!"
Excellent performances of one of our greatest symphonists.
Augustus Caesar, Ph.D. | Eugene, Oregon United States | 04/28/2004
(5 out of 5 stars)
"The posthumous fate of Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958) has not always been a kind one. After his death, his music passed through a prolonged period of being deeply unfashionable. Stodgy, tweedy Vaughan Williams--who could get into that?! But, like Elgar, whose music is also cast in a stuffy, stereotypically "British" light, there is much more to Vaughan Williams than one might think. First, the man was a superb melodist. He was not a mere tunesmith, to be sure, but crafted works that are primarily conceived in terms of melodic development, and this makes his work immediately appealing. Second, he was a highly original thinker who used his colossal technique (he had a doctorate in composition and studied with Ravel) for surprisingly modern ends. His music can at times sound like a mixture of Bach and Debussy, but it is always unmistakably Vaughan Williams. He had a penchant for modal counterpoint, and his streams of parallel chords place his work squarely in the 20th century.Vaughan Williams' unique talent for scoring is evident throughout this excellent recording of his 7th and 8th symphonies. The "Sinfonia antartica" is based upon a film score he supplied for a film about the explorer Robert Scott. It is by turns brooding and wistful--an ideal introduction to this magnificent composer. Symphony No. 8 is a more eclectic affair, brighter in temperament overall, but a rewarding example of the surprises that lurk around every corner of RVW's work. Was he the greatest symphonist of the 20th century? The jury's still out. He certainly created a body of symphonic work that is second to none in its richness, diversity, and consistency. Mahler, Sibelius, and Shostakovich are usually considered the most important symphonists of the last century, but for those who seek other fare, you can't do better than Vaughan Williams."
Comparative Review v. Boult
Karl W. Nehring | Ostrander, OH USA | 08/09/2009
(4 out of 5 stars)
"I had hoped to pick up both CDs at the same store, but the first shopping trip netted me only the Naxos version by Bakels. I had not played the Sinfonia Antartica for some time, but it did not take me long in listening to the Naxos version to hear that this was a performance and recording that was highly charged with energy. Some of the climaxes in the first movement were quite emphatic, and the organ in the third movement was recorded more powerfully than I had ever remembered hearing it. My initial feeling was that for a bargain, I was really getting bang for the buck (and I only spent about six of them). The recording was fun to listen to, and I played it a few times at home, in the car, and at work before I finally tracked down the Boult, which set me back about ten bucks.
In some ways, the Boult almost sounded like a different work. Gone were the explosive climaxes, the organ was much more diminutive, and frankly, I found myself disappointed and surprised that the Boult version seemed so tame compared to the Bakels. But I found the piece to be such an old friend, and the recordings so different, that I just kept listening to them, over and over--not really comparing them head to head, but rather trying to really get the full measure of each recording on its own terms before trying to measure each closely against the other in a more disciplined comparative listening session.
As I did this, I found the Bakels version sounding more and more mannered--even annoying at times, as in the big climaxes in the first movement, where Bakels always seemed to be telegraphing his punches. I could virtually hear the orchestra taking a deep breath and "winding up" to deliver a telling blow. This effect might be sonically exciting, but musically, it is less than satisfying. The Boult performance, although outwardly tamer, began to sound more and more musically satisfying, more refined, and more likely to wear well over the long haul.
As I did more careful listening, I found that there were things to admire about both CDs. The Boult seemed to have more of an integrated conception both in sound and performance. One way to describe it is to say that under Boult, the piece sounds more like a symphony, whereas under Bakels, it sounds more like a series of tone poems. Even the sound quality contributed to this effect, with the Boult sounding wider but not as deep, while the Bakels tended to separate instruments more clearly, while at the same time conveying greater depth. The biggest sonic difference was in the organ underpinning in the third movement, with the organ sound being given a more prominent place in the mix in the Bakels version. Still, the Boult seemed a bit more atmospheric, more chilling; in a piece titled Sinfonia antartica, chilling is good. Overall, I simply found the Boult to be a more satisfying performance, and the sound, while not the best, eminently satisfying and appropriate.
Still, the Naxos recording is quite admirable, and a tremendous bargain at its price. The more I listen to it, in fact, the more I am impressed by its sonic impact, and I am beginning to think that the sound is so impressive that it actually makes the performance seem more melodramatic than Bakels intended it to be. Has the medium become the message? (With bass like that on the Bakels disk, and a good subwoofer, the medium can definitely become the massage.)
For some folks, the choice between these two releases might come down to the couplings. The Naxos features the 8th Symphony, a basically pastoral piece with an everything-but-the-kitchen-sink percussion section in the finale that is a lot of fun, while the Boult features the Aristophanic Suite from "The Wasps," a really enjoyable piece with its own moments of percussive propulsion.
Given that the price of the Boult is not that much more than the Bakels, I would recommend the Boult more highly, especially to the first-time buyer who has not heard this symphony before, but for sheer glory of sound, the Bakels cannot be beaten. In terms of performance, though, neither of these disks quite matches the Vernon Handley version on EMI Eminence (CD-EMX 2173, recorded in 1990 and released in 1991), but the Bakels CD has the best sound."