The IMP/EMI series
celebrating giants of the podium has
been somewhat mixed and I think there
have been several missed opportunities.
In general I regret that more examples
of ‘live’ recordings were not included
and that much of the material that has
been issued is or has been relatively
easy to obtain on CD already. Most of
the chosen conductors have been musicians
fully worthy of inclusion in such a
series but a couple of the choices have
just been baffling.
Let me nail my colours
to the mast at once and say that I believe
that this present issue is one of the
very best and most important in the
series to date. Indeed, it may be the
very best so far issued. I say this
for several reasons. Firstly, though
Dimitri Mitropoulos was something of
a flawed genius, in music to which he
was suited he was inspirational: truly
a great conductor. Secondly, this release
restores to general circulation several
performances long absent from the catalogue.
Finally, as I hope to show, the quality
of the music making is very high and,
in the case of one work, the recorded
performance is unsurpassed in my experience.
To begin, as it were,
at the end. The short Strauss item is
a tantalizing glimpse of Mitropoulos
in the opera house. Towards the end
of his tenure at the NYPO he began an
association with the Metropolitan Opera
and indeed it was with Salome that
he made a sensational house debut in
1954, confirming his enormous theatrical
flair. Though I’m a great admirer of
Strauss’s music I must say I regard
this particular item as somewhat egregious.
However, Mitropoulos adopts the only
possible course and plays it for all
it’s worth. The recording is a bit close
and brash but the performance is a vivid
one and the conductor obtains some passionate
playing. This recording was set down
during his last full season at the helm
of the NYPO – he resigned just a year
later.
The account of La
Mer may not be to all tastes. You
will look in vain for the kind of subtlety
that, say, Bernard Haitink brings to
this score. In his very good notes Michael
Tanner memorably characterizes the performance
as "highly individual, more fire
than water." The lines are sharply
profiled and rhythms are always strongly
articulated in an interpretation of
great urgency. There are no washes of
impressionist sound here. Instead in
De l’aube à midi sur la mer
what we get is a warm Mediterranean
vista, bathed in hot sunshine under
predominantly clear skies. In Jeux
de vagues you can almost see the
white horses during a performance of
abundant inner energy. The start of
Dialogue du vent et de la mer is
really biting – every accent counts.
The rest of the movement is tremendously
dramatic; the music is storm-tossed
and thrillingly articulated. This is
not a performance of La Mer for
every day but, on its own terms, it’s
very exciting.
The set contains another
major French piece in the shape of extended
excerpts from Roméo et Juliette
by Berlioz. This recording was made
following concert performances and confirms
that the music of Berlioz was eminently
suited to Mitropoulos. Its colour, rhythmic
vitality and unconventional sonorities
must have appealed to him enormously.
The excerpts given here just make me
regret that apparently he didn’t record
the whole symphony.
The Introduction is
turbulent – some may find it hard-driven.
At the start of Roméo seul
he conveys the longing and melancholy
beautifully, obtaining some refined
playing from the NYPO strings. Later
the Capulet’s Ball is a headlong, whirling,
kaleidoscopic affair. The magical opening
of the wonderful Scène d’amour
is not quite as hushed and perfumed
as one might wish (the recording is
balanced too closely for one thing.)
However, the performance is splendidly
atmospheric with every strand clearly
laid out. The music moves at just the
right pace. When Berlioz calls for it
there’s burning ardour. Elsewhere the
emotion is below the surface but just
as evident. When we reach the exquisite,
long-breathed and plangent song for
the woodwind (track 3, 6’22") it
may be felt that the pace is a little
brisk (Sir Colin Davis, for one, is
more yielding here.) However, it seems
to me that this is consistent with Mitropoulos’s
urgent conception and I think the music
can take it. Towards the end (13’19")
his reading is headstrong and impulsive
but, after all, Berlioz is depicting
teenage lovers here.
The Queen Mab scherzo
is gossamer light, as quicksilver as
you could wish. Mitropoulos leads a
performance that is fantastic (in the
true sense) and alive. At the close
of this selection Roméo au
tombeau des Capulets is sharply
etched and searingly dramatic. To summarize
the whole performance I’d say that this
is not the only way to play this wonderful
music but the Greek maestro’s reading
is incandescent, charismatic and highly
involving.
This description applies
even more to the performance that completes
this anthology. If the music of Berlioz
suited Mitropoulos down to the ground
then he was surely born to conduct Mahler.
James Chambers, principal horn of the
NYPO between 1946 and 1969 has written
of Mitropoulos in Mahler that "there
was a remarkable conformity in style
between composer and conductor."
I don’t think this conductor has really
received his due for the part he played
in the propagation of Mahler’s music
after the Second World War. Among his
many achievements on the composer’s
behalf were the first recording of the
First Symphony (with the Minneapolis
Symphony Orchestra in 1940) and the
American première of the Sixth
with the NYPO in 1947 (in a concert
when he also programmed, incongruously,
the Gershwin Piano Concerto!). All the
recordings of him in Mahler that I’ve
heard display an enormous talent for
laying out cogently and dynamically
the enormous, potentially sprawling
structures and for playing Mahler’s
complex scores with penetrating clarity.
The colour, drama and sheer theatricality
of Mahler’s symphonic canvasses must
have appealed to him strongly and he
did them full justice. (I’m amazed that
he appears never to have conducted the
‘Resurrection’ Symphony.)
This Cologne performance
came during a busy time for him. Only
a few days earlier in Salzburg he had
conducted a visionary performance of
Franz Schmidt’s oratorio Das Buch
mit Sieben Siegeln (once available
on Sony Classics SM2K 68442 and well
worth seeking out if you can still find
a copy.) I’m not sure that he’d ever
conducted the Cologne orchestra before
but on the evidence of this performance
there was a great rapport between conductor
and players. As it happens an earlier
Mitropoulos performance of this symphony
is available on CD. This is a reading
from April 1955 with the NYPO but it’s
only available as part of the lavish
boxed set "The Mahler Broadcasts"
issued by the orchestra a few years
ago. I was bowled over by that performance
when I acquired the set but I think
in some ways this Cologne account is
even finer; it’s preserved in better
sound and, of course, it’s much more
readily accessible to collectors.
One or two textual
points are worth noting. As was the
case in 1955, Mitropoulos omits the
first movement exposition repeat, which
I rather regret, especially when the
reading is so fine. However, there’s
a major change from 1955 in that, this
time around, Mitropoulos plays the andante
third (which I very much prefer). The
other notable point concerns the cowbells
that Mahler used as additional colour
in the nostalgic episodes in all movements
except the scherzo. I’ve listened carefully,
using headphones as well, and can’t
hear these bells at all in either the
1955 recording or this one (the celesta,
on the other hand, is perfectly audible
both times.) I’m as certain as I can
be that Mitropoulos omits them. Why
he should do this is unclear for the
score I’ve used to follow the performance
doesn’t indicate that they are optional
and I’ve never known them to be omitted
in any other performance I’ve heard.
Despite the fact that
the period when Mahler wrote this symphony
(in the summers of 1903 and 1904) was
a happy time in his life it is, as Michael
Steinberg so aptly puts it, "a
work imbued with a tragic vision."
It seems to me that Mitropoulos realises
this vision magnificently. His tempo
for the march theme of the first movement
is steady and purposeful. It’s not as
slow as Barbirolli’s rather weary trudge
but it’s nowhere near as fast as the
hectic pace adopted by Bernstein in
his first, New York recording (I haven’t
heard his later remake.) To me Mitropoulos
seems to judge the speed admirably and
in his hands the music sounds, as Mahler
marked it, "vehement but sturdy"
("heftig, aber markig.") Later
the theme associated with Alma Mahler
soars passionately. What is behind the
closing pages of this movement? Superficially
the music can sound abandoned and exultant.
I don’t hear that in this instance (unlike,
say, Bernstein’s extrovert close at
a much faster speed) and I think the
ambiguity that Mitropoulos conveys is
appropriate.
The scherzo is marked
"Wuchtig" ("weighty").
Mitropoulos achieves that but he ensures
that the rhythms have life and spring
so that the music never sounds ponderous.
This is a strong, purposeful reading
in which Mahler’s grotesqueries are
tellingly realized. I’m sure Mitropoulos
was right to change his mind about the
ordering of these two middle movements.
There is a strong relationship of key
and musical material between the first
movement and the scherzo. Just as importantly,
if the andante is placed third the listener
is given something of a (very necessary)
emotional respite before the finale.
Here Mitropoulos does the tranquil passages
of the andante, such as the opening
four minutes or so, very well indeed,
proving that he could respond successfully
to lyrical music as well as more dramatic
pieces. However, as the tension and
intensity begin to increase, the conductor
moves with the music and the extended,
passionate climactic passage between
10’38" and 13’36" is breathtaking
in its ardour. In the closing pages
the music dies away beautifully with
a lovely, poignant clarinet solo.
If what has gone before
is extremely fine, the account of the
massive finale is devastating. The orchestra
plays out of their skins and cope heroically
with the strenuous demands made upon
them by both composer and conductor.
There are a few fluffed notes in the
brass but these are minor blemishes
and, indeed, they heighten the sense
of musicians giving their all. The performance
is overwhelming but it never descends
into hysteria.
I’m not sure what instrument(s)
Mitropoulos used for the famous hammer
blows. This is a most difficult effect
to bring off and I don’t think it quite
works here (nor in the New York account
either, for that matter.) I suspect
that the hammer blows are achieved "merely"
on a bass drum. The first blow (12’43")
doesn’t really register as it might.
The second (17’29") is better (and
more telling than in New York). What
really matters, however, is that this
second blow prefaces a musical catharsis
in the pages that follow and in this
performance it sound as if the notes
are being torn out of the players. In
the minutes that follow the second hammer
blow we hear playing of white hot, molten
intensity. True, the brass players do
rather force their tone a bit but this
can be forgiven in the passion of the
moment. Ironically, the controversial
third hammer blow (controversial because
Mahler had second thoughts about its
inclusion and not every conductor plays
it) is the clearest of the three on
this occasion. Mitropoulos’s rendition
of the doom-laden coda that follows
leaves the listener looking into the
abyss. Thank goodness that there is
no applause to break the spell (this
was a live studio recording but there
are no sounds to indicate the presence
of an audience.)
This is a unique document.
It’s quite the most shattering performance
of this incredible symphony that I’ve
ever heard (or hope to hear.) By reason
of the very intensity that informs it
from first to last it may not appeal
to all listeners. It is an unashamedly
subjective traversal and those who prefer
a more objective stance may not respond
as positively as I did. I can only say,
borrowing Michael Kennedy’s felicitous
phrase in reviewing a performance led
by Haitink at the 2003 Proms, that I
was "left drained yet elated by
this devastating masterpiece of a symphony."
The Mahler is the highlight
of the set but the whole anthology offers
examples of great, inspirational conducting.
This is music making that demands
to be heard and I can only recommend
this set with the greatest possible
enthusiasm.
John Quinn
EMI CLASSICS GREAT CONDUCTORS OF THE TWENTIETH
CENTURY 7243 5 75471 2 3 [74’42"+78’18"]
