Schumann*Gardiner, "Complete Symphonies"

John Eliot Gardiner's recordings of Schumann's orchestral works are both celebrated and controversial – it depends on who you ask.  Gardiner wanted to counter the widely held opinion that Schumann was a poor orchestrator.  In the liner notes to this three disc set, he dismisses this notion as a "myth" that can be debunked by re-framing these works in period instrument performance and orchestration.  In this instance, it calls for no more than 50 players, with the violas and violins standing, and fewer instrument groups, all with the intention of reconstructing the orchestra of the Leipzig Gewandhaus of Schumann’s time.  In other words (again, according to Gardiner), this was the orchestra that Schumann was accustomed to and for which he was orchestrating. 

There is something very refreshing about Gardiner's approach.  Sometimes Schumann can come across as colourless, although in the case of the Fourth Symphony, it's crushing bluntness in doubling up many of the instruments is precisely what I love about it.  However, Gardiner's leaner ensemble produces a less adventurous timbre but also a more consolidated one.   The tempos are consistently more brisk than most Schumann sets, the percussion is sharp and bracing, making for an often exhilarating listen.  This is a fascinating and often incendiary take on Schumann.

Having said that, I really couldn't care less about Schumann's "true" intentions, whatever that means.  It's interesting as a historical perspective into the origins of the work.  Since when is art only meant to be enjoyed in a singular manner, representative of an all-seeing eminent truth, frozen for all eternity?  And since when does the creator of said art get exclusive rights to present that truth?  I'm reminded of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah", apparently "intended" by Cohen to be a plastic, faux-launge mid-80's soft rock track.   But the song turned into something else thanks to John Cale's cover, and Jeff Buckley's cover of Cale's cover, and then the dozens of versions that followed it.  "Hallelujah" turned it into the "Imagine" of the 00's, and yet I have never heard anyone pontificate on Cohen's "true" intentions for the song, and advocate for a return to the original recording, stylistically speaking.  Over the years the song morphed into something else and affected a lot more people than Cohen's original recording ever did.  That's the story of "Hallelujah", and that's not going to change whether Cohen could foretell it's future of not.  

I would argue the same to be true about the Schumann orchestrations.  Reviews such as these get a bit too hung up on settling aesthetic scores with period instrument practitioners, and the period instrument people are too focused on proving themselves right.  Theirs is a conception of the music, just as valid as any other.   

 

re: Spotify, "The playlist model meant listeners didn't have a relationship with the artists"

The sentence above is the money line from Elizabeth Lopatto's piece about Spotify for The Verge.  She's ostensibly writing a book review about Liz Pelly's "Mood Machine", but she spins it off into her own analysis and some thoughtful criticism on what the book isn't, rather than what it is.  

I like playlists.  Even back in the days of Pandora, I loved the "if you liked that, maybe you'll like this too" approach to sequencing and recommending music.  I have discovered a lot of great new music through playlists.  But it's hard to argue with the notion that many people have outsourced their taste in music to algorithms.  Spotify playlists may be the 21st century muzak -- always in the background, never commanding the listeners' attention.  

Nobody wants to return to the bad old days of $20 CDs and no outlet for buying anything less than the full album when it's only the single that you want.  Having hundreds of thousands of songs available on demand is a minor miracle that was unimaginable to my former teenage self.   But it has created a different problem.  Music is now an accessory, not a commodity.  It's too cheap, and cheap things have little value by definition.  During the peak of file sharing, many noted that music collections had lost their value.  Nobody was going to proudly display and treasure a CD of burned mp3's or an iPod hard drive whose contents were always changing.  And now?  With streaming, most people don't even have a music collection anymore.  The result is that songs drift in and out of our headspaces, and listeners don't connect to the artists who create the music.  Beyond their so very cheap subscriptions to streaming services, listeners feel no loyalty toward artists, and don't spend the money to support them financially.  

Pelly and Lopatto don't have the solution to this problem, and neither do I.  Their central theses appear sound (I haven't read Pelly's book) -- the complex monetization policies of streaming services are a disaster for all but the most successful contemporary and legacy artists.  Lopatto doesn't see why indie labels should matter, but to me it's clear.  The labels are a stamp of quality.  Association with a cool label is just about the best marketing strategy available to an up and coming non-mainstream act.  The labels don't always need to supply the production expertise and studio time, not when many DIY musicians can record at home.  Being with the label means the artist instantly becomes part of a history and a legacy.  That's a powerful marketing tool and a provides a big incentive for listening.