Let’s be honest. DG releases these discs because Gustavo Dudamel is a hot commodity, to the extent that the classical music world has them, and the orchestra costs nothing compared to the Los Angeles Philharmonic. Can you imagine a major label telling Carlo Maria Giulini (who recorded this symphony for DG with the L.A. Philharmonic) that he had to record his “Eroica” with, say, the Palermo Symphony? Would a serious artist do it? Granted, the situation here isn’t quite analogous. Dudamel probably is more at home with these players than he is in Los Angeles, and the orchestra is a good one; but that still doesn’t justify yet another recording of this music.
Dudamel’s interpretation is what might charitably be called “faux-Furtwängler”. Textures are thick, rhythms are heavy, phrasing is legato. The first two movements are a chore. Dudamel looks for almost any opportunity to slow down and make a point. Doing that at the end of the exposition proves that he is mistaken to take the repeat. The Funeral March simply lacks rhythm and accent. There are plenty of performances that last about 18 minutes, but the music still has to move. The central fugue trudges along in a most depressing fashion. Then, with the scherzo, Dudamel suddenly wakes up and in the finale comes to life—but it’s way too little, too late. If you’re looking for a useful comparison, try Bernstein’s Vienna recording with this same label. The timings in the first two movements are almost identical, but the overall impression is markedly more lively.
The two overtures partake of the same schizoid dichotomy. Prometheus is lively, Egmont flabby. The actual sound that Dudamel makes contrasts oddly with the persona his handlers try to convey. On the back of the tray card, he’s captured in an action shot, arms flung wide, mouth agape. Reviews drip adjectives like “freshness”, “virtuosity”, and “electrifying”. Nothing could be further from truth. Yes, the orchestra plays well and clearly gives Dudamel what he wants, but all that means is that responsibility for the pervasive dullness of the performances rests squarely on his shoulders. The sonics favor the strings and the thick textures that Dudamel seems to prefer. Clearly he has thought about this music and takes it seriously, and that may be the problem. This is young man’s music, but Dudamel conducts it like a senior citizen.
