Review: Sibelius - Complete Symphonies - Klaus Mäkelä, Oslo Philharmonic (2024)

Many of us have watched Klaus Mäkelä’s meteoric rise through the conducting ranks with a mixture of curiosity and amazement. My first experience of his music making was a YouTube performance of Shostakovich’s seventh symphony; I soon found other performances of Mahler and Beethoven, all incredibly impressive. Now serving as music director for both the Oslo Philharmonic and the Orchestre de Paris, this new recording is another milestone for Mäkelä, who is only the third conductor in Decca’s history to be offered an exclusive recording contract with the label. And he may well be the first conductor to make a recording debut with a cycle of Sibelius symphonies.

The Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra has recorded little Sibelius; in the 1990s EMI/Warner Classics issued performances of symphonies 1, 2, 3, 5 and tone poems under Mariss Jansons. The orchestra plays well, but the performances are somewhat bland, the engineered sound diffuse. Decca’s production could not be more different: the ambience of the Oslo Konserthus is beautifully caught, adding warmth to the orchestral sound. And the orchestra has never sounded better; perhaps they do not have the weight heard in Sibelius performances from Berlin or Vienna, but the color of the Oslo winds seems authentically Nordic, perfectly attuned to Sibelius’ soundscape.

The first symphony establishes priorities heard throughout the cycle: clean and transparent textures, winds well balanced with strings, brass power used more sparingly than in other performances. Tempos fall well within expected norms, never as extreme as Segerstam and Vänskä sometimes are. Solos are beautifully shaped and deeply expressive, as heard in the bleak and rueful clarinet solo that begins the first movement.

Mäkelä’s general approach is red-blooded and direct. He does not resort to individual phrasing or articulation but does elicit particularly inspired and passionate playing. Dynamic markings are scrupulously observed, and the strings really sing their lines. However, in the slow and final movements of the first there are moments when energy levels sag, in part because Mäkelä seems to view these movements as a series of episodes rather than an organic symphonic argument. Turn to Blomstedt in San Francisco (Decca) and there is stronger sense of the music’s structure, each section connected to the next in a cohesive musical argument. Nevertheless, the delicacy of the playing is often captivating (sample CD1, track 2, around 3’00”). The coda of the final movement is a bit slow and under energized, especially compared to Segerstam in Helsinki (Ondine) or Davis in Boston (Decca). I admire Vänskä’s two recordings (both BIS), two of the quickest performances on record; the litheness of the playing, especially in scherzo, is thrilling. Segerstam’s Helsinki performance is also persuasive, more overtly emotional, drawing out the symphony’s antecedents with the works of Tchaikovsky.

The second symphony is more satisfying, in large part because Mäkelä more fully grasps its structure, masterfully guiding us through a slow movement that all too often seems episodic. The energy of the playing never lags and Mäkelä draws out a plethora of colors from his players, though in the final movement’s coda, the brass feels reined in exactly when they should be allowed to dominate the orchestral texture.

The third symphony was a rare instance where I noted “young man’s interpretation” – there is winning sprightliness (especially the galvanized swing of the first movement), articulation particularly light, imparting a propulsive momentum. Yet there are moments of extraordinary beauty too: sample the Andante at 4’11” (CD2, track 2) when the music suddenly shifts to another vista, the sense of stillness in an icy Finnish winter perfectly evoked by the lower strings. The final movement’s opening also suggests a nature image (spring’s arrival), Mäkelä and his players capturing the music’s myriad of emotions. The clarity of the playing draws attention to the layered ostinatos that drive the final minute of the movement to its thrilling conclusion. I cannot recall another performance that seems to connect this writing to the symphonies of Haydn and Mozart.

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The joy of the third symphony is shattered by the sharp stab that opens the fourth. This is tragic music, and Mäkelä does conjure that emotion convincingly. Yet, the orchestral sound seems too light, as if it is built from top to bottom when it should be the opposite. Also, Mäkelä’s is intent on placing us amid the tragedy, but in the readings by Karajan and Blomstedt, we experience the tragedy at a slight distance, making it less personal, more universal, and ultimately more devastating. Just compare the opening minutes of this new recording with Blomstedt: yes, the initial stab is more vivid in Oslo, but how carefully Blomstedt increases tension throughout the movement (allowing the music’s structure to generate its emotional power). With Mäkelä the middle section’s angst-ridden string lines (5’35”) the emotional agony is surface level, whereas with Blomstedt the sorrow is weightier, the pain felt more deeply. Karajan and Vänskä (especially in his first reading) also uncover a deeper sense of dreadful foreboding.

The playing in the fifth is stunning, but the first movement’s gradual accelerando is less well executed than with Karajan (DG), Blomstedt, or Rattle (in his first recording with the Philharmonia Orchestra/Warner Classics). Frustratingly, the horn’s swan song in the final movement seems perfunctory in part because the horns are balanced too distantly (are the swans flying towards us from the distance?). Turn to Blomstedt, Karajan or Vänskä, and the moment is spellbinding.

The sixth symphony, as led by Karajan, Blomstedt and Segerstam, never feels emotionally lightweight – but here it does. Again, the focus on clarity and refinement drew out the music’s antecedents with the classical symphony, but it also results in an emotional reticence. Contrasts seemed muted, and there is too little sense of struggle between darkness and light. (Segerstam’s first reading in Denmark (Chandos) is admittedly a slow and interventionist interpretation, but the opening minutes of the first movement have never been played more beautifully.) The second and fourth movements lack energy, thought the third movement has plenty (different recording days?).

Mäkelä and his orchestra are far better in the seventh, though transitions between sections feel less natural than in the recordings by Blomstedt and Karajan. Vänskä establishes a uniquely austere view, suggestive of the composer looking back at his many regrets and struggles. Mäkelä’s view is more “here and now,” a more vigorous, red-blooded reading. It is certainly affecting and emotionally satisfying, the playing again consistently impressive.

The collection also includes an excellent “Tapiola,” its shifting moods and colors exquisitely managed, as well as the “3 Late Fragments.” Intended for an eighth symphony, the fragments are interesting, but add up to less than five minutes of music – a musical curiosity, but no more.

While none of these performances would be my primary recommendation, I am thrilled to have heard them. What we have is a set of symphonies recorded by an extremely gifted conductor, who clearly communicates his understanding and interpretative viewpoint of the music to his players, who share that vision and perform with intensity and commitment. In each symphony I discovered new things, and that is exactly what I want from any new listening experience.

Sibelius – Complete Symphonies
Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra
Klaus Mäkelä – Conductor
Decca, CD 4852256

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