There is no mention
in the booklet of the origin of this
recording. I seem to remember that it
wasn’t a complete version, rather some
soundtrack recording for a film I never
saw. Some numbers end in mid-air. Were
it recorded as a highlights disc from
the beginning there would normally have
been concert endings to some of these
pieces.
Listening to a highlights
disc can very often give a lop-sided
view of the work and that is what happens
here. There are several slow, soft,
inward numbers in a row, for example.
But this is probably of little importance
to the intended buyers who want the
plums in the cake. And they are all
here. So far so good, then. What matters
now is: is it good?
A look at the list
of participants is promising. We have
The Ambrosian Singers and The Philharmonia
– hardly possible to find their superiors
anywhere. We have the ever-reliable
Marek Janowski at the helm, a conductor
who knows his Wagner. On his list of
merits is e.g. the first ever digital
Ring-cycle and that belongs to the best.
We also have four well-merited singers,
two of which are renowned Wagnerians.
In the sound department there are also
reliable people, among them Mike Hatch.
And that shows immediately when we listen
to the first bars of the Overture. There
is space around the instruments. There
is a perfect balance between the different
instrument groups. It’s the kind of
sound that is unobtrusive and exists
only to emphasize the music. So we can
thankfully forget about the technical
side and concentrate on the music.
Those first, hushed
French horns and trombones, introducing
us to the recurring Pilgrims’ theme,
are finely blended and the strings,
as usual with the Philharmonia, weave
a silken carpet on whose surface the
following action will take place. Janowski
shows in his build-ups to the various
climaxes that he is a sure-footed Wagnerian.
His dynamic shadings are perfectly judged.
And the big climaxes are never over-blown,
as can happen in this overture.
There is also a rousing
build-up in track 2, leading to Elisabeth’s
greeting song. Ever since the mid-sixties
I always expect the sound of Birgit
Nilsson to leap out of the speakers
after this intro. Most readers, I suppose,
will know what that is like: razor-sharp,
penetrating tone, very little vibrato
and power that seems limitless. I have
several versions of this aria with Nilsson
in my collection and just for comparison
I listened to a live recording from
1961, from a concert with The Swedish
Radio Orchestra, and it all was there.
She could also scale down her magnificent
instrument to the more inward parts
of the aria and then end it with flying
colours. But, to be honest, Nilsson’s
was never a true Elisabeth voice, and
listening to a number of different legendary
singers I finally selected Lotte Lehmann,
recorded in 1930, as my ideal Elisabeth.
She was also a famous Feldmarschallin
in Der Rosenkavalier, just as
this Elisabeth, Kiri Te Kanawa, was.
I suppose that Miss Te Kanawa is the
main selling point here and therefore
spent much of my listening sessions
with the greeting song so that I would
be able to place Dame Kiri in this illustrious
company. Her first sounds were curiously
disappointing. When the recording was
made she was still only 46 and in other
recordings from roughly the same period
she is her creamy self, pouring out
that golden tone effortlessly. Here
it’s the effort that first catches your
ear, there is a vibrato that I don’t
recognize in her voice ... and I own,
and have listened to, loads of her recordings.
Temporary indisposition or just trying
too hard? When we continue listening
we soon recognize her well-known ability
to float the voice. There’s even some
steel in the final notes, even if it
isn’t that Swedish stainless quality
of La Nilsson. This is good singing:
a little more fluttery than usual, but
vocally well up to expectations. But
not verbally. Even though I followed
the text in the booklet (Congratulations,
Warner, for giving not only full texts
but also English translations in a mid-price-issue!),
I couldn’t hear much German articulation.
The same thing is true, even more obviously,
in her second aria, Elisabeth’s prayer.
But this is so lovingly sung, so beautifully,
so celestially, that it doesn’t matter.
She spins one golden thread seemingly
in one long breath, leaving this listener
breathless. This is more than compensation
for the initial little disappointment.
If you want to hear
some text, you must listen to this Wolfram.
The Swedish baritone Håkan Hagegård
may be the least known of the four soloists
but is in many ways the most accomplished.
I often heard him at the Royal Opera
in Stockholm in the early seventies
when he, at the beginning of his career,
was a member of the ensemble there.
His Papageno, his Malatesta in Don
Pasquale and his Rossini Barber
were impressive readings, not just
vocally but also dramatically. He was
from the outset a natural actor. His
international break-through came in
the mid-seventies with Ingmar Bergman’s
film-version of The Magic Flute
and since then he has had most of his
career in the United States. He is also
a tremendously good lieder singer, which
you at once hear when he starts the
"Blick ich umher"-aria. You
also notice the almost uncanny likeness
to Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, the same
ability to use the half voice - and
his diction. When he returns with the
song to the evening star we hear the
same qualities. This is a noble reading
and to my ears the best of many good
reasons to buy this disc.
I should perhaps mention
the Ambrosians once again, for they
are at the top of their considerable
form. The entrance of the guests (track
3) tells us from the very start that
there will be a real party at Wartburg:
the inviting trumpet fanfares, the eager
guests walking youthfully with a spring
in the step and then the thunderous
culmination. In the Pilgrims’ chorus
we get an almost dreamlike start, otherworldly,
the male voices blending beautifully
and when the orchestra creeps in and
gradually pulls all the stops the choral
sound is still noble and beautiful –
but powerful.
The two Wagnerians
in the cast list have to be dealt with
very briefly. Waltraud Meier is splendid
with her incisive tone but we hear very
little of her – just in the final ensemble.
Tannhäuser himself is sung by René
Kollo – and I wish it hadn’t been. Kollo
was a sensation when he first appeared
in the late sixties, with his youthful-sounding
tenor and good looks. He at once became
sought-after and both Karajan and Solti
used him for several recordings. Karajan’s
by now legendary Dresden-recording of
Die Meistersinger was his calling
card on records and reviewers heaped
superlatives on him. When he recorded
the same opera with Solti a few years
later he had already begun to show signs
of wear, but he continued to sing for
many years and he always had good insight
in the characters he created. Here,
in the Rome narration, the youthful
timbre is still evident, as long as
he uses the mid-register of the voice
and sings mezzoforte. His declamation
is full of the aforementioned insights
and near the end of the narration he
memorably expresses Tannhäuser’s
desperation. But as soon as he has to
put pressure on the voice an unpleasant
intrusive beat appears and he sounds
decidedly elderly (and he was a bit
past 50 when the recording was made).
To hear him in this part you have to
seek out Solti’s recording (on Decca),
made in 1971. There he is glorious.
As I hope I have made
clear, there are numerous good reasons
to buy this highlights disc. And the
few blemishes, mainly the Rome narration,
can easily be avoided with the help
of the remote control. Playing time
is not over-generous, 61 minutes, and
maybe Warner was a little ashamed of
this, since they have hidden the timing
on the back of the jewel case, in the
smallest imaginable print in white against
a black background. But we do get texts
and the price is OK.
Göran Forsling
Kiri Te Kanawa (soprano – Elisabeth), René
Kollo (tenor – Tannhäuser), Håkan Hagegård
(baritone – Wolfram), Waltraud Meier (mezzo-soprano
– Venus); The Ambrosian Singers, Philharmonia
Orchestra/Marek Janowski. 