Last Saturday, Anima Eterna Brugge, under the direction of Spanish conductor Pablo Heras-Casado, performed Anton Bruckner's Seventh Symphony. The concert took place at the Concertgebouw Brugge, the orchestra's loyal home venue. The event had garnered considerable media attention beforehand; afterward, it proved to be well-deserved, as the concert was a landmark event, not only because of the performance itself, but especially because of the promise it holds for the future.
First, the performance itself: Bruckner symphonies are not performed all that frequently in our parts anyway. When they are, it's usually by 'contemporary symphony orchestras' that tend to emphasize the monumental character of Bruckner's symphonies: Bruckner is then often played slowly, loudly, and ceremoniously. That immersion in grand sound can sometimes feel wonderful, yet such an approach often obscures the wealth of nuance that genuinely exists in Bruckner's symphonies.
Precisely because Bruckner's symphonies are so often portrayed one-dimensionally, it was almost inevitable that Anima Eterna would eventually sink its teeth into this repertoire. After all, the mission of this orchestra has long been to swim against the current—not necessarily to be contrarian, but to get as close to the source as possible. In practical terms, this means consistently deploying period-appropriate (and 'locally informed') instruments, carefully examining the original performance conditions, and rereading the score as if there had never been a performance history. One consequence of this is that the sonorities change; they become softer, warmer, more delicate, and more nuanced. Furthermore, the balance between different instruments and instrument groups shifts dramatically. In particular, the reduction of the string section invariably produces a shift in perspective. For the barely eight woodwinds that Bruckner prescribes in his Seventh Symphony, it must have been literally and figuratively a breath of fresh air to play this work without having to blow their lungs out in hopes of being heard.
Beyond tone color and balance, there is also a third consistent element of change: textural rendering—that is, the degree to which the different musical layers that operate simultaneously in a musical piece are made audible. Bruckner's music is often labeled 'massive,' but actually it usually isn't. It harbors an incalculable polyphonic richness that inevitably gets lost if the appetite for volume isn't sufficiently tempered. The more transparent the performance, the better that layering can reveal itself, of course—a principle that Anima Eterna has always held dear, and one that also made all the difference in this Bruckner performance.
On one hand, this was an enormous achievement of Spanish conductor Pablo Heras-Casado, with whom Anima Eterna embarked on this project. In his younger years, Heras-Casado's focus was primarily on Renaissance music and Baroque, through which he developed a razor-sharp feel for counterpoint and texture. Later, he immersed himself increasingly in the Romantic repertoire, including the operas of Richard Wagner, Bruckner's great idol. These two worlds, which in traditional musical culture usually stand miles apart, flow together in Heras-Casado in a remarkably natural way. In any case, it was rare, especially in a Bruckner symphony, to hear transparency and pathos merge so peacefully and effortlessly with one another.
On the other hand, the contribution of the musicians themselves should not be overlooked; one all too easily forgets that period instruments are more difficult to play than modern ones: they are less stable in pitch, less precise in attacks, and were often challenged by composers of the time to (or just beyond) their limits. Playing period instruments is thus a challenge, but one that is particularly valuable because it serves a deeper aesthetic and a higher ideal of beauty. (Mistakes are therefore by definition beauty flaws.) The musicians of Anima Eterna Brugge threw themselves fearlessly behind this ideal last Saturday, driven by a conductor who was emotionally and conceptually on exactly the same wavelength. Only through this was it possible for something special to happen: Bruckner was liberated from his reputation, which in itself is an even greater achievement than performing his music excellently.
The memorable experience of last Saturday was all the more significant because the concert also seems to contain a promise for the future. The performance of the Seventh was after all only the beginning of a broader Bruckner exploration in collaboration with Heras-Casado in the coming years. Bruckner's Third and Fourth Symphonies are also now scheduled. What the concert of Saturday made clear is that this project will be able to develop in the spirit of curiosity and clarity that Jos van Immerseel breathed into his ensemble many years ago and which has led to a complete rediscovery (or at least re-experience) of many great orchestral works. That this is happening with a repertoire to which Van Immerseel himself never felt particularly drawn makes the symbolism of this project all the stronger. With old wisdom in new hands, Anima Eterna is now truly ready to develop further with renewed energy on the path it has excelled on for the past decades: the thorough rediscovery of (usually) well-known orchestral repertoire. Only when the old can become new can the soul be eternal. Thus the Bruckner rekindling becomes also a rekindling of the ensemble itself.
What Anima Eterna Brugge above all still needs is the cultural insight that their historically informed and inspired approach offers undeniable added value to our musical culture. In the past fifty years, Flanders has played an incredibly important international role in the exploration of historical performance practices. In doing so, it has helped some repertoires be completely rediscovered and gradually won an audience for them. That work is far from finished. As soon as there are signals, as there are now, that this exploration can be further developed under high-quality artistic conditions, it is our cultural duty to support it. Even if one actually prefers one's Bruckner rather murky.
Pieter Bergé
Pieter Bergé (b. 1967) is a professor of musicology at KU Leuven. He has published, among other things, on the operas of Arnold Schoenberg and the analysis of instrumental music from the late 18thBut are there any names among these new composers that you can say will become the new classics of the 21st century? Beirens doesn't want to venture beyond personal, subjective preference. He finds that difficult to answer. Yet there are a number who gain a certain status through consistently producing high-quality work. Hard to predict whether that work will stand the test of time, but he can't help but mention one name that appears again on the program for that Transit three-day festival from October 17-19: Swedish composer Lisa Streich.th century. In recent years, he has written for a broader audience about Mozart's Requiem (Who Wrote Mozart's Requiem?), the alleged inaccessibility of new music (What's There to Understand Anyway? An Essay for Beethoven Lovers and Schoenberg Haters"), a music history for the young at heart ("How does a guitar sound green? And 99 other things you need to know about classical music""), and Shostakovich's complex relationship with the Soviets (""The Lies and the Belly Laugh""). A book about Kurt Weill's opera recently came from his pen as well" "Aufstieg und Fall der Stadt Mahagonny"". Both his scholarly work and his publications for a broader audience have been repeatedly honored. Since 2015, Pieter Bergé has also been artistic director of the Leuven" "Festival 20·21".
