Haydn’s Symphony No. 102 is one of his very greatest, and the most forward looking—anticipatory of Beethoven. This performance is generic “historically informed”: quick, mechanical, nearly expressionless, and conducted with the expectation that the mere use of period instruments will accomplish what the performers won’t. It is also totally inauthentic and un-historic by any standard you care to name. It’s known, for example, that for his second London visit Haydn had an orchestra of about 60 players at its peak. Here, the strings are 5, 5, 4, 4, 2. The result, predictably, is hugely underpowered.
Then there is the vibrato issue, which I’m tired of discussing but will continue until the “HIP” crowd gets it right. The problem is not that the violins use little to none generally (or that’s how it sounds), but that they leave it out in precisely those places that every historical source claims it is absolutely essential: on sustained notes, in slow tempos, and in cantabile phrases. Just listen to the opening of the symphony—so dry and emaciated, unstylish, and just plain wrong. The reason they do it that way, however inappropriate, is because vibrato in quick tempos (assuming you have time to use it at all) or in subordinate parts doesn’t matter, so the only way to sound more different (i.e. authentic) than the norm is to omit it in those spots where you might actually notice. Just about the only thing this performance has going for it is the fact that the undernourished strings mean that you can really hear the muted trumpets in the slow movement. But that’s about it.
More’s the pity, because the performance of the Mass is mostly excellent. Since the strings are basically accompanying, the vibrato question hardly matters, nor does the actual size of the ensemble when the choral singing is so vivid and clear. Martin Pearlman uses Haydn’s original, more effective scoring for strings, organ, trumpets, and drums, and the opening Kyrie is extremely menacing and effective. So is the militant Benedictus, preceded by a beautifully serene Sanctus. The soloists are all very capable, with the possible exception of soprano Mary Wilson, who has the requisite agility and range but a timbre that sounds quite thin and edgy, at least as recorded here. Just about the only point in the performance that sounds too small in scale occurs at the very end, all the more surprising as the big moments in the Gloria and Credo come off so effectively. Here Pearlman must be to blame for not pulling out all the stops and letting go as the music seems to require.
Linn’s engineering is typically first class, but I have to say that I am really, really tired of these generic, period-instrument performances (of the symphony at least) that sound like they all come from the same stylistic cookie-cutter. The positive qualities of the Mass basically confirm the impression that Pearlman is essentially a choral conductor who should avoid symphonic music, at least until he’s willing to toss period orthodoxy aside and bring something characterful to the proceedings.
