This is a fascinating
and invaluable document, tracing important
recordings of Siegfried from
1928-1932. The roll-call of singers
is hugely impressive, and how wonderful
to have so much Albert Coates here.
The layout is intelligent, strictly
chronological. A potted Siegfried
is, of course, not ideal (of all the
Ring music-dramas, it segments
the least easily), yet in issuing the
Gramophone Company’s overview, Naxos
have laudably succeeded in supplying
a coherent and satisfying musical experience.
And although if one listened blindfold
the historical origins of these recordings
would be obvious, one would be hard-pressed
to identify the actual dates as being
at the beginning of the 1930s (and,
indeed, just before). Ward Marston has
done the honours, and he has done the
singers, and Wagner, proud.
One unfortunate fact
of presentation is that almost all the
timings on Disc 1 are wrong. This is
because Naxos lists tracks 2 and 3 as
3’37 and 8’00 respectively; in fact
both are 3’37, so the next tracks (up
to No. 8, the beginning of Scene 3)
are up the creek. Confusing.
There is one unifying
factor here, Wagner’s somewhat forbidding
score. Siegfried can appear the
most forbidding part of the Ring.
Voices are mostly male (one of the female
voices is even a bird, not a person!)
and there is a blackness that runs through
the whole score, almost as if the smoke
from the infernal furnaces of Nibelheim
is wafting over the entire work. Yet
there is a passion to this entire enterprise
that makes each semiquaver gripping
listening.
In an ideal world,
Siegfrieds would just all sound like
Lauritz Melchior, and his voice is perhaps
the second unifying thread - he is in
almost all of the excerpts (although
the very first voice we hear is Heinrich
Tessmer’s excellent Mime). In fact Tessner
and Melchior work very well together.
Tessmer does not overplay his card as
so many singers do, his only problem
being a sense of strain down below in
his register (track 2, around 2 minutes).
Every word is audible and clear. The
first seven excerpts (those from Act
1 Scenes 1 and 2) are under the baton
of Robert Heger, whose sense of rhythmic
vitality is just right. As the dotted
rhythms emerge and permeate the fabric,
there is a great sense of underlying
direction allied to an irresistible
youthful vitality.
Siegfried (Melchior)
enters in track 3, and it becomes obvious
the voices were chosen to contrast and
interact to perfection. This Siegfried
is as lusty as they come, very busy
and, in his own mind, invincible. A
concurrent joy comes from Tessmer’s
handling of Wagner’s grace-notes.
Friedrich Schorr as
the Wanderer, no less, joins Tessmer’s
Mime for Act 1 Scene 2. Schorr is magnificently
authoritative, accompanied by a wonderfully
darkly-shaded orchestra. Schorr’s innate
lyricism leads to some miraculous shadings
of line - the contrast between his unshakeable
confidence and Mime’s wheedling is exactly
right. This is the scene of Mime’s questions,
and Schorr brings high drama to his
answers, including high awe as her refers
to Valhall.
The Act 1, Scenes 1
and 2 excerpts date from 1931. Scene
three was recorded full two years earlier
- Melchior again, now with Albert Reiss
as Mime and the great Albert Coates
at the helm. Coates brings an inevitability
to his reading (although perhaps the
beginning of the famous ‘Nothung! Nothung!’
excerpt is on the sluggish side). Yet
Melchior is surely without peer here.
His sound is little short of gargantuan,
with an edge of brutishness (making
Mime’s sudden tenderness at around 6’00
all the more effective). The anvil rings
convincingly as we hurtle towards the
end of Act 1, the orchestra providing
a fittingly climactic feel. Siegfried’s
interrupting cry of ‘Nothung!’ (3’29)
is massively effective after Mime’s
ramblings. There is a headlong (yet
somehow - just - controlled) rush to
the end. Bracing stuff.
Act 2 brings Alberich
in its wake, here Eduard Habich, Schorr’s
Wanderer is, as usual, inside the part,
here creepily ominous. Heger is back
as conductor, and as before all is well
if not as pulse-quickeningly right as
with Coates. Habich and Schorr again
are perfectly chosen as a pair. Indeed,
there is a visceral sense of drama here.
Mention should certainly be made that
Habich sings both Fafner and Alberich
in this particular set of excerpts.
Act 2 is split over
the two discs here, and the final appearances
of the Waldvogel are credited to the
excellent Nora Gruhn (‘Grubn’ in the
listing). Not as flighty as some, perhaps,
there is a poignant lyricism that undercuts
her flutterings. Small wonder Siegfried
chases after her. I’d believe her.
Emil Schipper takes
over the Wanderer at the beginning of
Act 3 (he sang Wotan at Covent Garden
in the twenties). It is true that there
is drama here, but Schipper does not
seem to have all of the requisite authority.
He is overshadowed by his Erda (Maria
Olszewska) and indeed by Karl Alwin’s
conducting, magnetic in the Prelude.
Olszewska seems to speak from deep authority.
Schipper does, it has
to be admitted, grow on me as his assumption
continues. Perhaps it is his flowing
legato that appeals. But the difference
on sheer power is evident when the Wanderer
is changed to Rudolf Bockelmann, Schorr-like
in his grandeur. This seems to inspire
Melchior to match him in intensity and
it is Melchior, one year on (now 1930)
with Heger and the LSO, who is hugely
impressive at the beginning of Scene
3 (and, indeed, right to the end of
the music-drama, but we have to move
to 1932 for that). He is beautifully
focussed, and gives off the rather strange
impression that he could go on forever.
Good, then, that Melchior
it is that rounds things off, still
with Heger but now with the LSO, and
Florence Easton as Brünnhilde (this
is from ‘Heil dir, Sonne!’ onwards).
If this is not the most ecstatic greeting
to the sun you will here from an orchestra,
things open out nicely, with Melchior
opening out nicely towards the end.
Easton perhaps cannot match him in identification
with text and music (and she can scoop
up to notes), but the Siegfried of Melchior
is invaluable - and Heger creates a
great accumulation of steam towards
the end.
Ward Marston gives
a full run-down of problems he encountered
in producing this product. As noted
above, suffice it to say the results
are excellent (I for one would not guess
that some of the excerpts would come
from as early as they do).
Products such as this
are increasingly valuable. The ‘Golden
Age’ of singing should be remembered,
and when performance history becomes
a fully systematised branch of study
they may really come into their own.
On a less lofty level, if you have ever
shied away from Siegfried’s magnificent
edifice, now would be a good time to
investigate …
Colin Clarke
ceghiklnLauritz Melchior, bcdhHeinrich
Tessmer, eAlbert Reiss (tenors); iNora
Grubn, mnFlorence Easton (sopranos);
jMaria Olszewska (contralto); fhEduard
Habich (baritone); dfFriedrich Schorr,
kRudolf Bockelmann (bass-baritone);
a-i, k,lLondon Symphony Orchestra/a-d,
fhlRobert Heger, egikAlbert Coates,
jVienna State Opera Orchestra/Karl
Alwin; mnOrchestra of the Royal Opera
House, Covent Garden/Robert Heger 