Perhaps Mario Labroca, head of Radio Italia’s (RAI) music division, 
                  was surprised to find that this Ring would be released commercially 
                  as it was only recorded for radio broadcast. It was also a dry 
                  run for a projected EMI studio Ring, of which only Die Walküre 
                  was completed before Furtwängler’s death in 1954. Yet surely 
                  all those concerned must have appreciated the quality of the 
                  results and suspected that RAI’s tapes would surface on record? 
                  Cream comes to the top. Labroca matched Furtwängler, his finest 
                  RAI musicians and many of the greatest Wagner singers of the 
                  Vienna State Opera, taping both dress rehearsals and live concert 
                  performances, where audience members were vetted for coughs 
                  and noisy late-comers. As Mike Ashman explains in his informative 
                  booklet essay, whilst Furtwängler was to choose which recordings 
                  would be later broadcast, Rheingold, Walküre Act 
                  III, Siegfried Act II and Götterdämmerung Acts 
                  I and III were in fact broadcast live. Following Furtwängler’s 
                  death EMI’s David Bicknell tried to license the RAI Ring 
                  so a complete Furtwängler cycle could be issued. However 
                  contractual barriers prevented issue on LP until 1971 when critic 
                  Deryck Cooke famously declared Furtwängler’s Ring was the “greatest 
                  gramophone event of the century”. EMI remastered the cycle for 
                  a 1990 CD issue and now reissue the cycle in a slimline box 
                  set with improved cover design, presumably redolent of the industrious 
                  Nibelungs, for the 125th anniversary of the great 
                  conductor’s birth. The transformative elements of Furtwängler's 
                  conducting bear upon the listener’s inner life through dramatic 
                  force. These are timeless and sound totally fresh after almost 
                  sixty years: a rich bass-up orchestral palette, cumulative architecture 
                  over large spans, rhythmic grip and narrative heart. This is 
                  all in the service of Wagner’s opera. Gone are concepts imposed 
                  upon the music, be they Solti’s upbeat excitability, Goodall’s 
                  beautifully blended longueurs or Böhm’s forward-leaning lightness. 
                  Furtwängler is probably closest to Keilberth in deserving the 
                  label ‘natural’ but is infinitely more exciting. 
                  
                  Furtwängler's studio recordings, many re-released recently in 
                  a 21 CD box set (EMI 50999 9 07878 2 9), are nearly all superseded 
                  by live broadcasts where Furtwängler is inspired to greater 
                  heights through communication with his audiences. This general 
                  rule also applies, for all its glories, to Furtwängler's 1954 
                  studio Vienna Philharmonic Walküre which does not match 
                  this RAI Walküre for intensity. Only Furtwängler could 
                  say if this was due to studio confines or his health problems, 
                  sadly including some hearing loss. As Martha Mödl, quoted in 
                  the booklet, affirms: with this Ring Furtwängler "didn't 
                  pay attention to the radio microphones; he just lost himself 
                  in the score and the moment. You can hear that; that's what's 
                  great about this recording." 
                  
                  It is cruel to consider that within two years of the sonic limitations 
                  of this mono broadcast Decca produced the beautiful bloom of 
                  their stereo Bayreuth Ring (Testament). Three years after 
                  that John Culshaw was in the studio of the Vienna Sofiensaal 
                  producing Georg Solti's Rheingold, which in terms of 
                  both sound engineering and the conductor's artistry is the reverse 
                  of Furtwängler’s Ring. Oddly, EMI has not taken the opportunity 
                  to re-master the 1990 CD sound, which remains constricted and 
                  dry. If only EMI invited an engineer like Andrew Rose (Pristine 
                  Audio) to dust off RAI’s tapes! And voices can be balanced too 
                  forward whereby the Rheinmaidens are seemingly beside Wotan’s 
                  elbow at the end of Rheingold and Mödl’s closeness to 
                  the microphone in the Immolation makes her sound more effortful 
                  than she probably was. Nevertheless, the orchestra has greater 
                  presence than the 1954 studio Walküre. The RAI drums 
                  are more thunderous as Siegmund claims Nothung and the strings 
                  have greater body. However the RAI players can’t match the Vienna 
                  Philharmonic’s sheen as Wotan kisses away Brünnhilde’s godhead 
                  in Act III. There is also better orchestral detail than in the 
                  1953 Krauss Bayreuth broadcast and, I was surprised to find 
                  in Act III Siegfried, than the 1955 stereo Keilberth! 
                  Proof that Furtwängler was right in thinking Wagner should have 
                  trusted conductors rather than limit the orchestra using Bayreuth’s 
                  unique sunken pit? 
                  
                  Since 1971 there has also been much critical comment on the 
                  RAI orchestral playing which includes scrappy ensemble, missed 
                  entries and patchy tuning, the worst example being the final 
                  scene of Rheingold where the brass notes are more negotiated, 
                  even raucous, than splendid. Perhaps the Rheingold dress 
                  rehearsal tapes can be unearthed so such fluffs, including the 
                  cringe-inducing trumpet ‘blip’, where the trumpeter hits the 
                  wrong note before moving to the right one (CD2 track 22 3:45), 
                  could be edited out? On the whole, though, the orchestra’s limitations 
                  should not be overstated and Furtwängler’s inspirational presence 
                  clearly galvanises the players. In Siegfried’s final 
                  pages tension ripples throughout the orchestra into huge rhythmic 
                  waves and the strings ignite in passion as in no other recording. 
                  The final note is smudged, but after such building excitement, 
                  many listeners will feel this is not the point. 
                  
                  Many Wagnerians will appreciate that Ferdinand Frantz’s sonorous 
                  and authoritative Wotan does not wear his heart on his sleeve. 
                  Others may prefer Hans Hotter’s 1953 Bayreuth Wotan for a more 
                  dramatic response to the text. Certainly there is subtle sadness 
                  underlying Frantz’s Act III Walküre Farewell but, for me, Frantz 
                  did not fully rise to the overwhelming intensity of his daughter’s 
                  pleas beforehand. Again, Julius Patzak’s Mime is beautifully 
                  sung, avoiding caricature; Graham Clarke in Barenboim’s Ring 
                  is the more vivid character actor. But really these are quibbles 
                  and there are no weak links in Furtwängler’s experienced cast. 
                  We have Windgassen’s youthful, sunny Siegmund partnering Hilde 
                  Konetzni’s dark-voiced Sieglinde, undoubtedly a woman with deep 
                  torments. There is also an exceptional Erda and Waltraute from 
                  Margarete Klose, both portrayals deep enough to portend the 
                  gods’ impending catastrophe. Ludwig Suthaus’s Siegfried benefits 
                  from several days rest between acts so he is still heroic for 
                  the Act III Siegfried duet, always maintaining long singing 
                  lines. That Rita Streich sings the Woodbird and Elizabeth Grummer 
                  Freia typifies the legendary quality of the ensemble. 
                  
                  The standout ‘transformative’ singer is Martha Mödl in her only 
                  complete Brünnhilde on record. Mödl was generous in her support 
                  of this Ring being licensed and released, even offering, if 
                  needed, for her royalties to be shared amongst other artists 
                  who may since have fallen on tough times. This generosity, combined 
                  with a clear inner conviction, informs her warm, human portrayal, 
                  far from the implacable god-like defences of Flagstad or Nilsson. 
                  Yes, Mödl scoops and swoops, and her vocal production is chesty, 
                  but like the kaleidoscopic colours within Mödl’s dark mezzo-ish 
                  soprano, Mödl acts out a multi-faceted character. Here Brünnhilde 
                  journeys from the steady control of her opening “Hojotoho! Hojotoho!”, 
                  the thrilling abandon ending the Siegfried and Götterdämmerung 
                  duets, more secure for Furtwängler than Keilberth in 1955, 
                  to the heroic last stand of the Immolation, all the more moving 
                  as Mödl makes it clear there is a rounded person about to make 
                  her ultimate sacrifice. Mödl’s finest singing is in Act II scene 
                  5 Götterdämmerung where, underpinned by Furtwängler realising 
                  a slow nervous pulse, she digs deep within her soul to grapple 
                  with the extent of Siegfried’s betrayal, mixing stunned grief 
                  with emerging fury (“Ach, Jammer, jammer …”). Singer and conductor 
                  raise such drama to Shakespearian pinnacles. 
                  
                  I first heard excerpts from this Ring twenty years ago on LPs 
                  borrowed the Central Library in Christchurch, New Zealand. Rehearing 
                  this set weeks around the earthquake which killed hundreds and 
                  devastated much of that historic, well-kept city, I thought 
                  again of the issues Wagner raised. The Ring is often 
                  explained as a parable, a kind of warning that human effort, 
                  power and energy are somehow all swept away and we are left 
                  in the end with love. This is not enough. Wagner himself, after 
                  all, was notably industrious and materialistic. The best aspects 
                  of these things are never wasted as Furtwängler and his fellow 
                  artists remind us of the adventure and nobility within the well-travelled 
                  creative journey itself. 
                  
                  David Harbin 
                Masterwork Index: The 
                  Ring Cycle