There have been Stokowski-Philadelphia
rarity discs before – one remembers
the Stokowski Society disc of the same
name, largely replicated on Cala – but
Music & Arts here gives us a four-disc
box. I’d rate it a very useful mopping-up
exercise for the Stokowski Completist
and if that sounds like damning with
specialist taste it’s not supposed to.
It’s more a reflection of the fact that
many of these performances were multiply
recorded over the years by Stokowski,
sometimes with the Philadelphia, sometimes
not. And whereas in that other Cala
disc we could listen to real reportorial
rarity – Arcady Dubensky, Harl McDonald,
Hidemaro Konoye’s Japanese arrangement,
Henry Eichheim’s Symphonic Variations
and the like - here the rep is pretty
much standard. There’s the Franck Symphony
and Beethoven’s Fifth and Brahms’ Fourth,
all of which are known quantities –
except of course for the fact that these
and everything else in this set is making
its CD premiere.
Vivaldi is heard in
a big-boned and muscular performance
tinged with Technicolor but much more
impressive is the sensitive Lully which
makes a fine analogue to Beecham’s more
elfin and luxuriant moments in his Handel
"Ballet" reclamations. There’s
a similar sense of refinement and string
magic and a delicious sense of perfectly
calibrated warmth. His Byrd is sumptuously
melancholic, the Handel Chandos Anthem
overture has a touch more surface noise
than most in this disc, and the Water
Music Suite a pleasure to have though
no improvement over the Harty, either
in orchestration or in performance.
The Bach items have
thus far escaped the CD reissue net
so it’s welcome haul to have them collated
here, no matter that you will doubtless
know them from other, probably more
recent, recordings. The St John Passion
extract has superb string burnish and
portamento and gallant winds and Ein
feste Burg, as ever with Stokowski,
embodies inimitable and overwhelming
grandeur. A note at this point; tracks
two and three have been mixed up. There’s
salon-ish brace of souped up quartet
movements – Boccherini and Haydn – though
the latter just about makes it by virtue
of some rather outsize dynamic shading.
The second disc concludes with Beethoven’s
Fifth, a poor performance. Rugged and
emphatic it has a rhetorical flourish
unmatched by any defining sense of direction.
Things are needlessly exaggerated.
Much more to my liking
in its hothouse way is his Franck, prefaced
by his own comments (and Rodzinski’s
piano illustrations) in an Outline
of Themes disc. This is the only
performance in the set that I’ve been
able to compare with any previous issue;
not having any of the 78s I listened
to an American Stokowski Society LP
made by Ward Marston [LSSA-3], which
contained both the Outline and
the Symphony amongst other goodies.
I can say that Mark Obert-Thorn, Marston’s
partner in transfer engineering crime,
has effected a big improvement. There’s
more surface noise, granted, but the
string definition is palpable and a
real improvement in clarity. As for
the performance those who know the much
later Stokowski/Hilversum performance
should be aware that with the Philadelphia
he was a good four minutes quicker and
more febrile all round. The 1927 sound
is not that good, there’s some scuffing
and a boomy bass line, and I prefer
Monteux and Beecham among his contemporaries
as a Franck conductor. But no matter
– it’s valuable to have it.
His Nocturnes – the
two recorded on this occasion – are
gloriously evocative and atmospheric
and more intense than the remake, when
he included the chorus in the full version.
Clair de lune is naughtily luscious
and the Prelude has a tender Tristanesque
patina I admire but can’t prefer to
Beecham’s slightly earlier recording
with his LPO.
The final disc includes
a disappointing dead loss of a Brahms
4. The band sounds third rate, the portamenti
are unusually pervasive and the recording
quality was not good (inaudible percussion
are not the least of it). It was originally
recorded onto 7 10" records – an
unusual practice given the work – and
it was apparently never issued on 78
(though John Hunt in his Stokowski discography
claims it was issued in Chile in this
form). The first matrix, missing, has
been replaced by a 1933 Stokowski remake.
There’s a hammy Brahms Hungarian Dance
that would have embarrassed the potted
plants and some better morceaux, notably
a brace of (cut) Strauss Waltzes, Salome
and Sousa.
In all then a four-for-the-price-of-three
deal for Stokowskians and one that restores
overlooked recordings to the catalogue.
The biggest works come off worst. But
the transfers cope well with sometimes
restricted sonics and Richard Freed
has covered discographic ground with
assiduous devotion. Good for Stokowskians
but as for the non-partisan listener
it’s a bit of a glass half-empty, glass
half-full sort of set.
Jonathan Woolf