First Impressions

I listen to a lot of new music. And not just newly composed, but newly discovered (or revived) music. I am always excited when a record label records a neglected work from a known composer and I hear something for the first time.
 
After living with the standard repertoire warhorses my entire life, I’ve come to the point where discovering new music is essential - I simply must have it. And the more of it I hear, the more of it I need. And my first impressions of new music are a fair indicator of my ultimate response to it. However time and again, when I encounter something completely new, it often will elicit a different reaction after a second hearing, usually on a different day.
 
A recent recording, which I struggled with, has prompted me to consider my first impressions of new music. The recording in question was the collection of (mostly) rare chamber music on BIS (by Ferguson, Bliss and Holloway), featuring clarinetist Michael Collins and the Wigmore Soloists. I was not familiar with any of this music and honestly, I absolutely hated this recording the first time through. All of it. I thought the music was second-rate, poorly recorded and not terribly well played - especially by Collins himself. I wrote a review expressing these observations, but then stopped myself from publishing it. As is typical in such instances, I decided to let it sit a few days and tried listening to it again. (And then yet again on a different CD player.) And eventually I began to warm up to this recording - or at least identify exactly what made it unappealing and discover some good things too.
 
Why not just go with my first impressions? Well, first and foremost, I really wanted to like this release. I love the BIS label and could hardly believe their recorded sound could be so inferior to their usual high standards. And I have enjoyed Michael Collins’ clarinet playing on several previous recordings for the Chandos label, and again, I found it difficult to believe his playing was so irritating here. (When did he develop such a bright, thin, unsupported tone? Or was this an issue with the recording itself?) And finally, I usually love discovering unfamiliar music, so why was this so off-putting and difficult to enjoy?
 
Which made me reconsider my initial, first impressions and give it another try. After much perseverance, I eventually recognized this music had merit (especially the Bliss) and forced myself to be more tolerant and try to enjoy it. And that’s what I ultimately wrote about in my review - the process of hating it to accepting it. However, the final verdict will be determined by whether I will ever listen to this disc again. And I can state with absolute certainty that I will not. While I recognize the music has value, it still isn’t something I enjoyed, even after living with it for some time - for the very reasons I didn’t like it in the first place. It’s not great music; I’m still not entirely convinced that Michael Collins isn’t sounding a bit out of practice these days; and I’m absolutely convinced that BIS did a lousy job recording it.
 
After further contemplating this phenomenon of “first impressions”, I’ve identified four basic reactions I typically experience when listening to new or unfamiliar music.
 
1. Once in a while I’ll hear something so horrible, so disagreeable, that I can’t even listen to all of it and turn it off. It’s rare I can’t finish listening to a new piece of music, but it does happen and I don’t spend a lot of time trying. I promptly write it off as nonsense - or worse, noise - destined for obscurity. Fortunately, this doesn’t occur often.
 
2. Sometimes, though, there is something which may not be instantly gratifying, but I hear some good things in it. Or I recognize elements of true creativity, or at least a reasonable amount of talent from the composer. And giving it another chance, on another day, often proves fruitful and I can then re-evaluate. Many times, my opinion will improve; and many times it won't.
 
3. And then there are those which take me by surprise. Those which are instantly engaging and captivating (or better yet, riveting) for whatever reason(s) - shockingly original, emotionally moving, creatively innovative, ingeniously scored/orchestrated, or even spectacularly played. These are the recordings which I get the most excited about, and are the ones which I write about most often.
 
4. But in my experience, the majority of new music I hear is “good”, not great, and largely unmemorable. And ultimately, completely forgettable. These are the ones I rarely write about, because my comments would be very similar for all of them, with a quick, concise summary which gets immediately to the point:

   “Well played, well recorded, worth hearing, but nothing I'll ever return to again.”

And they get filed away on the shelf along with the other 10,000 CDs there, never to be thought of (or listened to) again.
 
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On the other hand, when it comes to new recordings of well-known, revered masterpieces (Beethoven/Mozart/Tchaikovsky, et al), initial impressions are usually immediate and final. If I hear a performer, group or conductor do something egregious or off-putting - or worse, display a blatant disregard for the score or essence of the music - in works I have loved (and studied) my whole life, then nothing else they do matters. They can be the best players on the planet, but if they mess with the masters, then they’re done as far as I’m concerned.
 
A case in point is last year’s Chandos release of Mozart’s Piano Quartets. I know I have written disparagingly about this recording several times before, but these beloved masterpieces are played with such pretentious self-importance, they are simply intolerable. And for an esteemed label like Chandos to record them for posterity is, frankly, irresponsible. Try as I might (and I really have tried…repeatedly), listening to this CD again and again hoping to hear something - anything - of redeeming value, I just can’t. I can’t get past everything they purposely do wrong, so anything they might be doing right is immaterial. And my first impressions are solidified.
 
The recent Bridge Classics collection of Beethoven Piano Trios (played by pianist Yael Weiss and friends) is better, but still not satisfactory - for slightly different reasons. It’s not quite as fussy (though still more than I like), but is overly Romanticized and rather old-fashioned - with casual tempos infused with too much rubato and too little articulation - which in the end almost sounds more like Brahms than Beethoven. No, this won't do either.
 
I understand the difficulties inherent in making a new recording, especially of familiar, time-honored music that has been recorded countless times before. Aside from the time and financial investment involved, the music-making itself must be fresh and memorable to be relevant. It must be notable for bringing something new to something old. And the challenge is to accomplish that with spontaneity and enlightenment, but without affectation or mannerism. The temptation to “make a statement”, to be remarkable by calling attention to yourself, is sometimes too great. But every effort must be made to circumvent it.
 
One prime example of how to do it right comes instantly to mind - the Dover Quartet’s recent recording of the complete Beethoven String Quartets for Cedille Records. Everything about this set is fresh, incisive and invigorating - infused with vitality and insight. Yet it remains absolutely faithful to the score, preserving the essence of the music without compromise. The difference between the Dover Quartet’s Beethoven and Yael Weiss’s Beethoven could not be more striking.
 
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In conclusion, I can't help but acknowledge first impressions matter and, in my experience, they're usually right and often impossible to overcome. However, new music which shows real promise deserves a second or third chance to make a lasting impression.