Bruckner Symphony no. 6 DUEL -- Klemperer/New Philharmonia vs von Karajan/Berliner Philharmoniker

I am extremely proud of my ranking of Sibelius Fifth Symphonies, but it was an exhausting post to write.  I had planned to turn it into a semi-regular series of posts -- next up was Bruckner's Seventh Symphony -- but right now, the investment feels too daunting.   So here's a more manageable alternative: a classical DUEL between two radically different interpretations of a work. 

As artists, Klemperer and Karajan are about as far apart as you can get, beyond their status as legends of the "standard German repertoire". Klemperer: steely tempos, stoic execution, and a transparent sonority in which every line is audible. Karajan: sweeping gestures, a flowing approach, and lush string textures that tend to swamp everything else.

Klemperer’s idiosyncrasies can sometimes tread close to the edge of a precipice -- in this instance, I'm referring to his tendency to take fast movements slowly (or at least slower than usual), and slow movements relatively briskly. The first movement unfolds at something close to a funeral-march pace, threatening to collapse under its own weight, yet somehow never doing so. He sustains a gritty, unyielding tension for nearly seventeen minutes—astonishingly, about two minutes longer than his account of the Adagio. And yet, the famously unsentimental Klemperer still finds a lyrical thread running through it all.

I’ve often found Bruckner’s adagios to be overlong (sacrilege, I know), but here Klemperer threads the needle, keeping things moving at a serene, unforced pace. Then, as is his wont, apparently because he couldn't help himself, he gives in to his contrary self and he stretches the scherzo past nine minutes, stripping it of the explosive urgency most conductors bring to Bruckner’s dance movements. It feels like a misfire—though not one that derails the symphony as a whole. After all, Bruckner did mark it “nicht schnell—langsam.” Perhaps Klemperer knew something that we (amateur listeners and professional conductors both) don't.

In the finale, he draws out the symphony’s more pastoral qualities, bringing the woodwinds to the fore. By the end, you could be forgiven for forgetting that you’re listening to Bruckner—until the final coda snaps you back into full, bracing Brucknerian reality.

Karajan, by contrast, launches the symphony full of FIRE, charging headlong into the opening, raging into the blinding light. This was, I believe, his only recording of the Sixth (and one he apparently never performed live), and in 1979 he had the Berlin Philharmonic under absolute control. The playing is disciplined, the strings are locked in to producing the sweeping, cascading sonorities he favored.

The adagio is slow indeed -- nineteen minutes, four slower than Klemperer -- but is beautifully paced.  In Karajan’s hands, it becomes perhaps Bruckner’s most “romantic” slow movement in the modern definition of the word: the love theme to an 80's movie about doomed, starcrossed lovers. The scherzo is nothing short of triumphant, easily surpassing Klemperer in terms of sheer excitement and drive.

But then, in the finale, Karajan does something unexpected: he slows things down, almost channeling Klemperer. Presumably he’s aiming for heightened drama, but without Klemperer’s transparency, all we hear are broad waves of sound, simply the volume rising and falling repeatedly.  Each time the orchestra fades out all too often, some of the piece's momentum vanishes, and it never really returns.  At first, I found the final coda to be needlessly overwhelming, with the brass too dominant, though I’ve now come to appreciate its impact.

Both interpretations are well worth hearing. But for me, Klemperer remains a kind of supergenius, operating on a wavelength the rest of us can only dimly perceive. Even when he’s not at his absolute best, I’ll take a mostly “on” Klemperer over just about anyone else in this repertoire.

90's nostalgia

I had a yen to hear Sonic Youth’s "Total Trash", which quickly spiraled into a YouTube-assembled playlist of late ’80s/early ’90s indie rock—Pixies, Blur, PJ Harvey, Galaxie 500, and more. What can you say, the algorithm knows what it’s doing. It starts with my search (Sonic Youth), pulls in the obvious contemporaries (Pixies), and then folds in the British acts it knows I like. It’s a formula that’s pretty much guaranteed to keep me listening.

It’s 2026, and I still haven’t heard a Pixies album, back to front, in my life. ’80s and ’90s American indie rock is a real blind spot in my listening—I grew up hearing about it, reading about it, but never really listened to it beyond the tracks that made it onto alternative radio. There are plenty of gaps in anyone’s musical life, of course, but this one stands out given my other listening habits.

So the algorithms keep assuming this was my thing, even though it never was. As a result, I’ve probably heard more Pixies songs in their post-reunion lifespan than I did during their original run. Still, I’ve heard enough to say what everyone already knows: this band was at least five years ahead of their time. Good thing they eventually put their differences aside and cash in, finally getting the chance to make the money their imitators enjoyed."

The mythology of the ’90s is now every bit as strong as the mythology of the ’60s once was. Bands get defined by that era, and it sticks with them no matter what they do afterward. Jefferson Airplane and The Kinks, for example, are forever labeled as ’60s bands, even though both were actually more commercially successful in the ’80s.

As for Kim Deal, the Pixies will always be her ultimate legacy, even though she had more commercial success outside of the Pixies, and was a bigger individual star when she led her own band.   This remains true even though she has spent much of her adult life trying to move beyond the Pixies. After falling out with Black Francis over creative and personal differences, she formed the Breeders and released Last Splash, which sold over a million copies and far outperformed anything the Pixies did commercially. She released music only sporadically after that, eventually rejoining the Pixies for their to tour the world many times over, before stepping away again when new recordings began.  Good for her for cashing in when the opportunity was there—she earned it. But the Pixies will always define her legacy, even if the "Cannonball" single remains her true commercial (MTV, sales) and creative peak.

Similarly, Gorillaz have somehow recorded as many albums as Blur (nine) and have sold at least ten times as many copies.  But Damon Albarn will always be the frontman of Blur first and foremost.  

Sonic Youth’s trajectory is wild, and becomes more fascinating and debatable with the passing years. "Daydream Nation": every track is a revelation, each one is an anthem for a generation. It’s even in the National Recording Registry at the Library of Congress. Then "Goo": much in the spirit of "Daydream Nation", but filtered through major-label oversight. The "Kool Thing" single threw in everything but the kitchen sink in a bid for something resembling a commercial breakthrough. That track has everything -- wild noise freakouts, the Chuck D cameo, a singable chorus, an eye-catching video with Kim Gordon in leather, cats galore, and metric tons of sparkle and tinfoil. In some alternate, freakier universe, this is the album that breaks bigger than "Nevermind".

And then, just two years later, they’re putting out "100%" and "Sugar Kane", and they're sounding like an ordinary grunge-esque band—albeit one with stranger guitar tunings.

Various, "Tresor 4 -- Solid"

As I alluded to a few weeks ago, I could keep this blog going indefinitely by revisiting and reevaluating CD's from the 90's.

For instance, take the series of compilations released by Tresor.  I own numbers 2 through 8, with the exception of number 6.  It's safe to say that Tresor II and 3 are the most well-regarded, most influential, and probably were the biggest sellers of the series. They were released at the height of the Berlin-Detroit alliance (hence the name of II), where all roads in techno seemed to lead to those two cities.  The Berlin wall had come down just a few years earlier.  The club scene in Berlin was taking off, synergy between European and American techno artists was never higher.  

At the time, I listened to Tresor 3 more than any of the others.  I would have put Tresor II slightly below it, although any argument claiming it as the best of the series would be difficult to refute.  But each compilation went into heavy rotation on my stereo when they were released.  With the exception of Tresor 4.  I have no idea why.  In fact, I can't even remember where and when I bought it.  It was possibly years after the Tresor 2000 compilation, many years after it was originally released.  And I never particularly took to it.  Tresor 5, on the other hand?  At the time, I felt it symbolized muscular, slamming mid-90's techno at its best.  Tresor 2000?  Pounding, cavernous minimal techno long before it became synonymous with Berlin culture. 

But now?  Those compilations are a bit bland.  As part of a DJ set they would probably still slam, but as individual tracks on a 70-minute disc?  Too monotone, lacking in hooks (Tresor 2000 in particular).  What about Tresor 4, the one I would have designated as the runt of the litter.  Hearing it now, it's simply outstanding.  It's packed with classics ("Relish", "Der Klang der Familie", "Think Quick"), with more variations in mood and tempo than the average Tresor comp, which makes for more engaging home listening.  And the second disc!  I'd nearly forgotten that there was one.  The second disc is an excellent mix CD featuring many of the artists on the first disc.  It's sloppy in places, but the vision and momentum is there, it's safe to say that this disc never "loses the floor".  

Why did I ignore this compilation for so many years?  I really have no idea.  Maybe I felt it was unnecessary because I already had so many other records and discs by some of the artists (e.g. Maurizio, Vainqueur)?    

Bob Marley, "Legend"

I have been thinking a lot about a new format for this blog.  The correct choice seems to be taking the entire thing to a video format on YT or a social media platform.  Would this be in addition to, or instead of the written blog?  I'm not sure.  I feel that writing is more suitable for longer think-pieces and collated musings (which is what I tend to do) and shorter snippets where you can comment without necessarily having to say anything profound.  However, video is more immediate and relatable.  

Either way, I could churn out reviews and thoughts of catalog music indefinitely.  That's why I love the Pitchfork Sunday Review so much.  Long form pieces on classic albums with a modern reviewer's perspective.  Eric Harvey's piece on Bob Marley's "Legend" is outstanding -- the best of these PF reviews that I have come across.  It's an extensively researched piece, and I learned so much.  Harvey persuasively argues that "Legend" recast Marley's legacy as a photogenic, radio-friendly crossover star, rather than a militaristic rebel.  In turn, the album flipped the entire popular narrative of reggae music on its head.  In the 70's rock and punk bands would borrow (or steal) from reggae when they wanted to sound dangerous and threatening, in part as a reaction to anodyne FM soft rock.  After "Legend", reggae became the music of sunshine and good vibes for a newfound audience of middle class white listeners who bought the album in the millions.       

I don't believe there's a sensible counter-argument to this.  Marley released thirteen studio albums, and "Legend" doesn't come close to covering all the facets of his music.  David Robinson, the Island record executive who compiled the tracks on "Legend", admitted as much, namely, that they saw a mass marketing opportunity amongst an untapped white listenership.  Is it really such a problem though?  Harvey would say yes, seeing as "Legend" sanitizes Marley in a way that he certainly never would have chosen for himself if he were alive.  However, Greatest Hits compilations always target the casual fan, most of whom buy music sparingly and rarely delve deeply into an artist's catalogue.  More serious listeners can always use the GH compilation as a gateway into buying the individual albums, which was precisely Harvey's experience vis a vis "Legend".  Was Marley wronged moreso than hundreds of other artists whose music has been packaged and repackaged countless times?   Greatest hits collections come with loads of statistical anomalies.  Many of the top RIAA certified albums are compilations, and many of those were double albums (that count as two units).  I believe that "Legend" is the second biggest selling GH album of all time -- albums sold, not units sold -- behind only the Eagles juggernaut GH album.  To paraphase an old saying, 18 million Bob Marley fans can't be wrong.  "Legend" is still a steady seller, confirming its cross-generational appeal.    

My own experience in Jamaica as a foreigner is not meant to be taken as representative.  However, as a personal note, when I was in Jamaica in 1992 as part of a school program, the sellers in the market were only too happy to push any and all sorts of Marley merchandise onto us enthusiastic teenagers.  In Jamaica, a national hero like Marley is a once in a generation public figure, in a sense he belonged to everyone.  When it comes to profiting from his name, capitalism can't simply be split among racial lines.   

Beach House are still amazing

I will never catch up with contemporary music ever again, I am checked out on that front. I'm too far behind even with the music released by my all-time favourite acts, so there's zero chance of getting up to speed on recent releases in general.  Case in point, I intended to post a triple review of three new albums by three of my all-time favourite artists -- Moderat's "MORE D4TA", Spiritualized's "Everything Was Beautiful", and Beach House's "Once Twice Melody".  Each of them had produced at least one Album of the Year by my rankings.  Time passed, and I needed to add another album to the list -- "everything is alive" by Slowdive (their previous comeback record was my #2 of that year, and was in my top ten for the 2010's).  Time passed again.  That was in the summer of 2022.  I still haven't heard any of those albums in full.

Yet once in a while, I still fall down the rabbit hole like I have this week, playing Youtube videos from the "Once Twice Melody" tour on repeat.  When this album first came out, I thought I'd had it with Beach House.  They had more or less stopped evolving.  By "Teen Dream" they'd reached an inflection point, from then on, it wouldn't be enough to sound like star-crossed kids recording twee noodlings in their bedrooms, they needed to morph into a full-fledged, wall of sound-obsessed, immaculately produced band.  And with "Bloom", they did.  

Then they had a brief struggle with stylistic schizophrenia.  They stepped back into the shadows with (the still excellent) "Depression Cherry", and simultaneously recorded the more upbeat "Thank Your Lucky Stars" (a good idea on paper, but the songs weren't really there).  After struggling with the eternal question of whether to retreat further into moody dreampop or burst forth as a commercial indie pop juggernaut, the decision was made: we can do both.  This gave rise to "7", which stayed true to their trusted formulas but sonically, they sounded bolder and richer than ever before, their collaboration with Sonic Boom.  The apex had been reached, the only thing left was to officially become the dream pop AC/DC and milk the same signature style for decades to come.  To me, that seemed to be the marketing strategy behind "Once Twice Melody", so I figured this was the moment I could take a time out from this band.

In a sense, "Once Twice Melody" plays out as expected.  Beach House really only have one tempo -- one that they can slightly boost for the more radio-ready songs, or drag out for the slower ballads, but isn't every Beach House songs kind of a semi-ballad?  They have one instrumental palate -- guitar, keyboards, and drums, and the effects boxes and presets barely change.   Each song drifts along within roughly the same airy, hazy moodscape.  They have perfected the show closing epic with its breathtaking coda, every album has to have one now ("Irene", "Dive", "Over and Over").  

But despite all the signs that Beach House are content to churn out the same content from now until forever, I can still get completely lost in their music.  Victoria Legrand's voice isn't as bright and powerful as it once was, but everything they do on stage is still mesmerizing.  On any given day, their music is more life-affirming than anything else out there.  Everyone has their personal ranking, but "Once Twice Melody" more than holds its own with the best albums in their catalogue.  They have been in a godlike tier for well over a decade, and that's a rare thing.