Many years ago I acquired
a tape of this performance of the Petite
Messe Solenelle. Expectation ran high
but hope was dashed because the sound
was so wretched that one might as well
have been listening to a performance
recorded underwater – and I never listened
to it again. Until now. I dug it out
to make points of comparison but I didn’t
get far. Doubtless the tape wasn’t a
first generation copy and didn’t necessarily
reflect the true qualities of the acetate
from which it had been copied. Nevertheless
for all its manifold limitations – more
to follow on that score - this Guild
release has prima facie engaged in a
little miracle of audio restoration.
For one thing I was able to listen uninterrupted
to the performance, now revealed as
deeply human and powerfully affecting,
and one that affords interpretative
pleasure far, far beyond the commonplace.
Barbirolli remained
proud of his performance of the work,
and it was he who introduced it to the
American continent during his second
full season in charge of the NYPSO.
They play the orchestrated 1867 version
of course. Granted many would now prefer
the original chamber ensemble, a kind
of proto-Fauréan intimacy of
twelve voices, two pianos and a harmonium
but Carnegie Hall 1939 was hardly the
place for that kind of thing. So let’s
deal with the problems inherent in this
broadcast performance, all dealt with
honestly and straightforwardly in the
notes. The Rossini first appeared on
an Edward Smith LP – from which possibly
my tape derived – which was full of
distortion and missing passages. Finding
the original acetates it was discovered
that the Kyrie was damaged, as was the
Cum Sancto Spirito, the end of the Gloria
and other sections elsewhere were missing
and there was a plethora of surface
noise, as I can well attest. Richard
Caniell was particularly inspired by
the concluding Agnus Dei and I’m glad
he was. The problems of acetate noise
and constant scuffing still remain.
There’s no getting away from it and
on rare occasions the sound does come
and go.
Still there are considerable
rewards for those who are willing to
accept these limitations. The choir
is incisive, the orchestra plays well,
and the soloists, though disparate in
their expressive responses, offer a
well-contrasted and thoughtful quartet.
Bruna Castagna is impressive in the
Gloria where one finds oft-derided Charles
Kullman open-hearted in his replies
(London Green in his notes finds him
overly sentimental but I find him attractive).
Barbirolli shows his mettle in a wonderfully
buoyant Domine Deus where he gives Kullman
expert rhythmic support and it’s just
a shame that there are moments of distortion
at the top in the Qui Tollis duet between
Castagna and the marvellous Ria Ginster,
whom I haven’t mentioned yet but who
is the pick of the four singers. Leonard
Warren’s warmth and nobility are very
apparent in Quoniam Tu and the long
Credo, though there’s some distortion
in places, is illumined by Ginster’s
expressive understanding and by the
rigorous but animated fugal section
at the conclusion. The orchestral Preludio
Religioso is full of Barbirolli’s rich
cantilena, his portamenti and diminuendi
and the little violin solos that so
conspicuously add colour to the score.
And I do agree with Caniell that the
Agnus Dei is very special indeed – above
all here and throughout the work Barbirolli
observes and respects the stylistic
provenance of this work and doesn’t
try to make grandiose quasi-opera out
it. It is worthy of Caniell’s work in
this restoration.
The second disc brings
us Barbirolli Rarities in which he accompanies
a variety of singers in more broadcast
material. From the Ford Hour series
in Detroit he accompanies Lawrence Tibbett
in grave Verdi and manly Tennysonian
Gounod (more surface noise here but
it’s not really problematic if you’ve
survived the Rossini). Kathryn Meisle
is rather heavy in the Saint-Saëns
but Rose Pauly is radiant in her Strauss
songs and fully lives up to her exalted
status as a Salome in the extracts from
the final scene, a New York broadcast
from February 1938. The Parsifal Grail
Scene suffers from occasional distortion
and there’s a difficult acetate join
at 5.30 in the scene starting Nein!…Lasst
ihn unenthüllt but Cordon and
Bonelli are good but not outstanding.
It’s a shame that the chorus is cut
off at the end – possibly because of
time limitations.
It’s hard to make a
definitive recommendation – pro or contra
– in a set of this kind. Its appeal
will be limited I think to admirers
of the conductor, who will be rewarded
with very rare material, and maybe also
devotees of changes in performance practice
in twentieth century music-making. Those
who value the work may have Chailly’s
Bologna version of the full orchestration
or the chamber force version (Sawallisch,
Cleobury). It’s clearly been a labour
of love to bring the Barbirolli recording
to a wider audience and I commend Guild
for having had the courage to do it.
Jonathan Woolf
see also review
by Robert Farr
Richard Bonelli (baritone)