The opening theme of Bruckner’s Symphony no. 8 is announced in the depths of the orchestra; with the precise rhythm of the main theme of the first movement of Beethoven’s 9th and something of the character of the Siegfried motive from Götterdämmerung, it contains energy and heroic aspiration, but also a harmonic instability that gives it a searching and unsettled quality. Throughout the movement it is treated to no end of variation, as though searching for a form in which it could at last settle. Often it appears on solo instruments, distorted, inverted, extended, or else it thunders out in triple forte tuttis. At the climax it appears bereft of melody, the rhythm alone stabbed out by the trumpets above dramatic timpani rolls. Thereafter fragments of the theme die away to silence, and the symphony moves on through its hefty Scherzo, lengthy and sublime Adagio, to the prolific thematic content and development of the immense Finale. It’s only when, over an hour after we had previously heard it, the theme returns at the end of the Finale recapitulation, it suddenly becomes apparent that it had in effect been there all the time, its turbulent and questioning energy being the force behind the whole progress of this vast symphonic structure, waiting for its transfiguration in the C major coda to finally bring it to a triumphant and transcendent apotheosis. Or at least, that is how it seemed in Haitink’s wonderfully disciplined and tightly drawn interpretation, executed with exceptional accomplishment by the Royal College of Music Orchestra.
In Haitink’s hands there are no moments of peace and rest, no visions of glorious heavenly calm – not even in the Adagio – but a sense of restless advance. He eschews the ‘monumental’ approach to this symphony and avoids the impression of great architectural blocks and heavenly stasis, but rather gives the sense of presiding over a work driven by irresistible volcanic forces and the shifting of tectonic plates. The eloquent presentation of the opening theme defined the territory which the symphony would occupy, and displayed immediately the great strengths of this orchestra: the rich, warm string tone, the glorious horns and heavy brass. Such idiosyncratic interventions as there were, were invariably subtle and never glib. The first movement ends with a repeated, falling three-note phrase which Bruckner likened to the ticking of a clock in the room where a life ebbs away. Often it is best if it is treated just like a clock, with unfeeling metronomic regularity, but Haitink gave just the slightest extra pause before the final fall, a slight hesitation that leant this last moment an added and fateful significance.
The Scherzo was tremendous: energetic, fast and colourful, with some interesting inner parts brought into the light – I especially noticed a little four-note rising arpeggio-like phrase on the second violins, that rarely makes itself audible. Originally the angular theme of this movement Bruckner thought of as a portrait of his fun-loving friend, the factory owner Carl Almeroth, and in this evening’s performance it came over as irrepressibly joyful. In the Trio the rich warmth of the RCM strings, that was to be on more extended display in the Adagio, took us into a pastoral world of fleeting dreams.