Big Bruckner Weekend

Sage, Gateshead

1–3 March 2024

I rarely review classical concerts because I dont have the technical knowledge to describe the music, and I don't have the breadth of knowledge to talk about a specific performance in comparison to others. I can tell you all about the differences in two dozen performances of Deep Purple's Perfect Strangers, but I can't begin to compare conductors or orchestras playing the same symphony. But as this was a special, and probably unique, weekend, I'm going to describe it as much as I can, from a personal point of view.

I encountered Brukner on a BBC Music magazine cover disc several years ago, and was so impressed that I bought a complete set of symphonies (Barenboim/Berliner Philharmoniker, for the people who do understand the differences). Bruckner is a difficult composer to love (as was said many times over this weekend), and my unschooled opinion of the symphonies was: 1–3, he was still figuring out how to write a symphony; 4–6, he had figured it out but the results were not especially spectacular; 7–9, I would list among my very favourite symphonies.

So when they announced a full weekend of Bruckner, including 7, 8, and 9, I bought the ticket almost immediately. Then spent the next few months wondering what I had let myself in for, because this weekend was going to be tough. The symphonies are all very long, and take a lot of concentration. Three in three days is honestly a bit extreme.

And it was mentally hard work, but I don't regret deciding to do it. I've never heard Bruckner live before, and might never do it again because his work is very rarely programmed (in part due to the length, as was also discussed at the weekend).

The weekend consisted of five separate concerts, and each one contained only a single piece of music. Before each of the symphonies, however, the Chorus of Northrn Sinfonia performed a set of motets (that's a short a capella religious song, for the rock fans reading this) on the building concourse. Each set contained three motets, each from a different period of Bruckner's career, showing how his style developed so clearly that even a layman like me could understand it. I hadn't heard any of his choral music before this weekend, but these convinced me I should hear more.

Then each concert was preceeded by a short introduction by television and radio presenter John Suchet, in which he described what we were about to hear and gave some background to the composition, very entertainingly (as in his description of the disastrous public response to the premier of the 8th). The great thing here was not only his knowlege of the subject, but also that he was quite clearly a huge Bruckner evangelist, and enjoying all the performances just as much as we were. Then, after each symphony, Suchet interviewed the conductor of the piece to gain more insight. This really added interest to the whole weekend and all of these elements were as important to the event as the symphonies themselves.

As I've explained, I'm completely unqualified to talk about the music content. If you want to know what the music is like, listen to recordings (and I'm sure you won't be disappointed). So I will just give you some basic facts:

Friday evening, Seventh Symphony, by the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Domingo Hindoyan. A nice, gentle introduction at only 65 minutes long and with some quite hummable bits.

Saturday afternoon, Bruckner's "Great" Mass, No. 3 in F minor, by the Chorus of Royal Northen Sinfonia, the Durham University Choral Society, four soloists, and Royal Northern Sinfonia conducted by Thomas Zehetmair. This was extraordinary. The huge chorus must have been close to 100 singers, easily double the size of the orchestra accompanying it. My knowledge of choral music is pretty much limited to the baroque (ok, it's pretty much limited to Bach), so I've probably never heard a work like this before. Typically Bruckner, it's not only long (60 minutes) but also immensely and intensely powerful, and I came out pretty much shell-shocked.

I had barely recovered in time for the massive Eighth Symphony in the evening, 82 minutes long, and played by the biggest orchestra of the weekend: The Hallé conducted by Mark Elder, so big that they had to take out the first few rows of seats. Suchet tells us that half the audience walked out during the premier of the Eighth, and you can see why. It sounds almost like a modern work; it must have completely bamboozled them in 19th century Vienna. I love it. (One of the informative talks over the weekend pointed out that Bruckner's writing was pointing towards not just composers like Mahler, but also to Schoenberg and the Second Viennese School, and though there's no way I would ever have figured that out by myself, it does perhaps explain why I love these symphonies so much.)

By Sunday morning, they must have thought half the audience would sleep in, because they moved to the small hall for the String Quintet played by members of Royal Northern Sinfonia. Bad mistake. The hall was packed to the rafters, and there was the feeling that some seats had been double booked. The Quintet is beautiful, well worth hearing, but I remain primarily a fan of the symphonies.

At around lunchtime, I was again back in the small hall—maybe not so packed this time, but still respectably full—for a discussion between John Suchet and two academics from Durham University whose names I have unfortunately forgotten (I need to remember, because one of them has written a book about Bruckner that I maybe ought to read). This was fascinating. Both guests brought a lot of knowledge of the subject, and I learned a lot.

The final event on Sunday afternoon was the Ninth Symphony by the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra conducted by Alpesh Chauhan. This is relatively short at 65 minutes—but only because it's unfinished, with Bruckner's death coming before he wrote the fourth movement. We can only imagine how long it would have been if completed. It's difficult to know where to place this among my favourites. I think I prefer the Eighth, but there's something very moving about knowing that he wrote this with his health failing, and that although he dedicated it to God, and asked Him to grant him enough time to finish it, he wasn't granted that time. And there's something very fitting about ending the thunder of the weekend on the quiet fading of the beautiful and emotional Adagio.

The whole weekend was beautiful and emotional, and worth the physical and mental exhaustion it left me with. Would I do it again? Probably not. This weekend was incredible, but I think it needs to remain a unique memory.