The Queen Elizabeth Hall must be among the most unlikely venues for Bruckner: acoustically bone dry, resolutely secular in ambience. Ádam Fischer nonetheless drew a two-and-a-half-second echo out of nowhere in his masterful handling of the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment, whose ranks had swelled but not inflated to measure up to Bruckner’s Fifth Symphony.
Though not the longest of Bruckner’s symphonies, in terms either of duration or material, the formal perfection of the Fifth stands proud, occupying a space of its own, requiring no introduction: a point underlined earlier this summer when the Berliner Philharmoniker’s Prom performance was preceded by a superfluous trio of motets. On this occasion, however, an overture would have served to put everyone on their mettle. It took roughly the length of a Coriolan for the OAE to iron out wrinkles of tuning and slack ensemble.
Period ensembles have rather warily circled Bruckner hitherto, and the Fifth especially, with a milque-toast French version conducted by Philippe Herreweghe being the only precedent for the OAE’s bold venture. In Fischer, they had chosen their guide and leader for the enterprise wisely: one who has decades of experience with the ensemble, its individual and collective personalities. The notion of period-instrument Bruckner brings with it the promise of quick tempi, radical transparency and timbral contrasts: qualities to convert the Bruckner unbelievers out there, perhaps.
Fischer has no time for this nonsense. He brings old-school technique, a long-range grasp of the score, and a restlessly focused, typically Hungarian vigour and intellect to bear on both music and musicians. A broad pulse in two underpinned the momentum of the first two movements, so that Bruckner’s argument flowed on a steady current rather than in jagged cataracts. Gentle string portamento for the second subjects complemented a warm, glowing soundscape led by the flute of Lisa Besnoziuk and clarinet of Nicola Boud. Bruckner completed the Fifth in 1876; Brahms wrote his Second Symphony in 1877. Rarely have the two works felt so near in vision as well as time. The Scherzo’s country polka danced with the contented humour and sturdy rhythm of the corresponding movement in Dvořák’s Fifth, from 1875.
Where the OAE musicians need little coaching is in counterpoint, the bedrock of the Fifth. Bach is in their bloodstream. They listen to each other by nature, giving way and standing out in lively interdependence. Fischer directed the fugal progress of the mighty finale with a light, alert hand, creating a sacred space for the entry of the chorale theme, otherwise pushing forwards but never pressing on. The affirmation of the coda arrived not with the scientific precision of a logical proof, the kind of dazzling musical thesis advanced by Kirill Petrenko and his Berliners, but with the suffused radiance of a new Jerusalem held in view from far off. Everything felt right about this Fifth, or nothing wrong that couldn’t be fixed by another rehearsal and a more accommodating venue. Bruckner rewards patience, and this period-instrument Fifth was well worth the wait.
