The management of the Metropolitan recently decided to release
a clutch of broadcast recordings long jealously held in their
vault and otherwise available only as pirates or dodgy imports.
Their comparative rarity lends them a certain cachet, but closer
inspection reveals that they are not necessarily as attractive
as they first appear. First, they are all monaural and pretty
scratchy, with a constant fluttering interference as background
noise. Voices are well forward but the orchestra and chorus
can be dim. Secondly, in some cases performance standards are
variable; for instance, in the case of this Fidelio despite
the star names, the supporting cast is very ordinary. Thirdly,
those star singers are very often available in contemporary
studio recordings of far superior quality – although the frisson
of a live performance might be absent.
It is certainly the case that anyone who wants to hear Nilsson
or Vickers in the principal roles here need only turn to two
celebrated recordings by Maazel and Klemperer respectively –
and they are in finer fettle in those studio recordings, even
though their performances here remain impressive. Another possible
attraction might be to hear Karl Böhm’s interpretation of the
opera, though on the showing here I wonder why: he is in his
most restless and impatient mode, harrying his singers to the
extent that they cannot always make their points. Hermann Uhde
in particular suffers from being mercilessly rushed so he cannot
hit his considerable vocal stride; one has only to hear Berry
for Klemperer or Tom Krause for Maazel to sympathise with him;
Maazel seems to give his singers so much more time despite the
fact that timings are often similar. It doesn’t help that Pizarro
seems to lie a little low for Uhde, too.
Böhm’s unfeeling haste afflicts several key passages, not least
the Prisoners’ Chorus and their absurdly jaunty farewell to
the sunlight. You listen in vain for the poetry of Klemperer’s
account and Böhm’s approach is not enhanced by the tremolo-ridden
contribution of his First Prisoner. No-one can keep up in “O
namenlose Freude” and even parts of “Abscheulicher” sound as
if the great Birgit Nilsson is having to gabble. I was struck
afresh by how big her voice sounds in this company; she doesn’t
really do vulnerable all that convincingly, but the part frequently
requires her to convey steely determination. As singing, her
performance is electrifying and her top notes stunning.
I like the two lovers, who sing sweetly; their contribution
to the celebrated quartet “Mir ist so wunderbar” is charming
and for once Böhm gives the music some space to breathe. Oskar
Czerwenka is a lumpen and lugubrious Rocco, making you long
for Gottlob Frick or Kurt Moll. Giorgio Tozzi’s Don Fernando
is soundly and sonorously vocalized but not a patch on Franz
Crass for Klemperer.
Although I know some object to the dramatic propriety of doing
so, Böhm’s inclusion of the Leonore No. 3 Overture as the prelude
to the final scene provides a welcome bonus, but again, he takes
it an absurd lick. It undoubtedly manufactures a kind of scurrying
excitement to which the Met audience understandably responds;
some clap - and are hushed by others - when it begins and they
applaud again enthusiastically at its close. For repeated hearings,
however, the rushed big tune must surely begin to sound ridiculous
the way Böhm rattles through it. I much prefer the weighty,
stately grandeur of Klemperer’s 1963 recording, included as
an appendix in the EMI set.
There is also the issue of the quality of the Met’s orchestral
playing. They are certainly no match for either the Vienna Philharmonic
or the Philharmonia; we immediately hear horn bobbles the moment
the overture begins and these recur throughout, most damagingly
in the “Abscheulicher”. The strings cannot articulate the semiquavers
in the fast passage of the Leonore overture and it all gets
mushy.
There is a certain pleasure in being able to hear a good live
performance from the Met dating back over fifty years, but I
cannot say that this one to which I shall return; it is all
too hectic for me.
A track-listing and synopsis only is provided in the booklet.
Ralph Moore
Leonore - Birgit Nilsson (soprano) 
