When I reviewed the luxurious Decca reissue of the
Solti
Ring towards the end of last year I confined my comparisons
of the performance to the other studio recordings of the work. A number
of subsequent comments have regretted that I did not extend my survey
to include the many live performances now available on CD. There were
two main reasons for this, only one of which was my natural concern
to keep an already very long review within readable bounds. The other
was the simple fact that live recordings of any work as long and complicated
as a Wagner opera are inevitably bound to include a fair number of imperfections
both major and minor, both matters of the music itself - missed notes,
inaccurate rhythms - and of the nature of the recording: unsatisfactory
balances, stage noises. I recognise that live performances can often
provide a dramatic
frisson which may make them uniquely valuable
but it seems to me that collectors should always have as a primary reference
point in their collections a recording that attempts at least to give
us the score in all its details as truthfully as possible to the way
in which the composer wrote it. I am also aware that many ‘live’
recordings are spliced together from a series of performances, or contain
amendments from ‘patching sessions’ after the original recording.
This begs the question of how far this can then be considered a document
of a ‘live’ performance, and in a work as complex as a Wagner
opera it is unlikely that all the minor errors can be so corrected.
The ideal solution may be to undertake a studio recording after a series
of live performances, in the hope that the singers under those conditions
may carry forward into the sessions the intensity of the stage. In fact
this is surprisingly rare, especially in the case of Wagnerian opera
where the cost of keeping a cast together after a stage production may
be prohibitive. The Karajan set of the
Ring was recorded
before
his stage performances at Salzburg. The Levine and Haitink sets of the
cycle feature an assembly of singers some of whom never sang their roles
in the conductors’ productions at the Met or Covent Garden. Reginald
Goodall’s studio sets of
Tristan and
Parsifal were
recorded in the wake of Welsh National Opera productions, but only in
the former case had Goodall actually conducted theatre performances
beforehand. None of the studio recordings of
Meistersinger were
made in this manner.
In considering this set of
Meistersinger therefore I make no
apology for ignoring the many sets which derive from stage performances
or radio broadcasts with minimal or no facilities for subsequent editing
or retakes. As a primary recording for a collection, live performances
of the opera inevitably suffer not only from unsatisfactory internal
balances between voices at various points but also from galumphing apprentices
and marching guilds during the final scene which will inevitably detract
from the music itself. I am also, with greater reluctance, setting aside
the mono sets from the 1950s, because this is an opera which cries out
for stereo to elucidate the many intricate strands of the music. I know
that many find Rudolf Kempe’s beautifully paced 1956 recording
is still the preferred version, but the forward placing of the voices
sounds simply unnatural to me despite the presence of some good singers
(not uniformly excellent). The mono sound with its recessed representation
of the orchestral voicing cannot do justice to the detail of a Wagnerian
score.
Once one has undertaken this winnowing process, there are a remarkably
small number of studio-made stereo recordings of
Meistersinger
around: only four, in fact, of which this set is the most recent released
as long ago as 1994. Of those four sets this is, by quite a long margin,
the best. The other three are those conducted by Karajan (his first
live recording made at Bayreuth in 1951 has poor sound), Eugen Jochum,
and the first recording under Sir Georg Solti (his second was made at
live performances in Chicago). I have at one stage or another owned
all three in various formats. For the purposes of this review I listened
to excerpts from each again. Much of the decided success of this set
can be attributed to the superlative cast that Sawallisch managed to
assemble.
To begin at the top, Cheryl Studer is simply magnificently
right
as Eva. She is not too heavy in tone unlike the ungainly Caterina Ligendza
for Jochum. Nor is she too sweetly ingenuous unlike the small-voiced
Helen Donath for Karajan. She is always dead in tune and unstressed
by the music unlike the out-of-sorts Hannelore Bode for Solti. She floats
the opening of the quintet beautifully, with a richness of sound that
eludes Donath or Bode, and blends well with the other voices in a manner
that the heroic-sounding Ligendza cannot begin to manage. She is always
alive to the nuances of the text, and the way in which she inflects
her flirtation with Sachs has the right sense of mischief without sounding
coy. Her outburst
O Sachs, mein Freund! is stupendous. Her singing
of the final phrase of the
Prize Song is floated beautifully
with a real trill as specified.
As her lover Ben Heppner is also superb, one of the best on any recording
and only equalled by Alberto Remedios and Sandor Konya in their broadcast
performances for Reginald Goodall and Rafael Kubelik respectively. He
certainly surpasses René Kollo, who was young enough to sound
convincing for Karajan - it was his first ever major recording - but
had already become jaded and jagged in tone by the time he came to reprise
the role for Solti five years later. Plácido Domingo for Jochum
is a rather different matter; the
sound is absolutely right,
but his German at this early stage in his development was particularly
heavily accented and many listeners find this distressing. German audiences
do not seem to have minded this when he sang the title role in
Lohengrin
in Hamburg at the outset of his international career. Heppner cannot
equal the sheer thrill of Domingo’s lyricism in the big numbers,
but he finds the right sense of wonder in the rehearsals for the
Prize
Song where Domingo is rather plainer. Throughout, Heppner’s
voice has plenty of light and shade; this is no simple
Heldentenor
going through the motions.
In 1976 Bernd Weikl had sung Beckmesser for Solti with a lack of character.
Earlier reviews of his performance of Sachs for Sawallisch complained
about a certain facelessness to his interpretation here also. His voice
is absolutely right for the part, a baritone with plenty of body to
the lower register. Theo Adam for Karajan had the proper heroic timbre
at this stage of his career, but his intelligent interpretation lacks
any sense of kindliness in this most kindly of Wagnerian roles. Dietrich
Fischer-Dieskau for Jochum brought his own special brand of interpretation.
His lower notes lacked definition and like the casting of Domingo the
result is rather out of the expected mould. Best of all is Norman Bailey
for Solti, but given his surrounding cast his efforts go for too little.
No, Weikl is fine, and often rather more than this, even though one
could imagine a more beefy sound in his cobbling song. His baptism of
the Prize Song is surprisingly matter-of-fact, without the sense of
wonder and mystery that Bailey brings to the lines.
In recent years there has been a considerable reaction against the casting
of Beckmesser with a voice of the ‘character’ type. This
is all to the good; Beckmesser is, after all, regarded by his fellow
Masters as a serious composer. His serenade requires really skilful
singing to negotiate the elaborate roulades. The role also needs to
have a degree of acidity in the mix, and Sir Geraint Evans for Karajan
probably achieves the ideal level of compromise. The singers in the
other sets - Roland Hermann for Jochum, Weikl for Solti and Siegfried
Lorenz here - are all basically heroic baritones who have some difficulty
in conveying the petty nature of the character. Lorenz is obviously
trying intelligently to lighten his voice, singing often in a conspiratorial
mezza voce. The result is, on occasion, somewhat disconcerting.
Among the other Masters, the singer of Kothner also needs to have a
degree of flexibility to negotiate the decoration of the vocal line
in his instruction to Walther in Act One about the nature of a Master-Song.
None of the well-known baritones in the rival stereo sets bring this
off well although Gustav Neidlinger manages it for Kempe. Here the relatively
unknown Hans-Joachim Ketelsen sounds just right, given plenty of space
by Sawallisch to negotiate the fiendish triplets in his final verse.
Another character who vainly attempts to instruct Walther is the young
apprentice David, a role which is often taken simply by a lyric tenor
but who should also have a degree of edge. Deon van der Walt has a pleasant
voice, but misses the sense of underlying violence which forms part
of the character - he starts the riot in Act Two, after all. Peter Schreier
is more incisive for Karajan, but Horst Laubenthal for Jochum and Adolf
Dallapozza for Solti are like van der Walt simply pleasant.
As his lover Magdalena casting often presents problems. She is definitely
considerably older than David - Walther describes her as “Die
Alter”, after all. If she sounds too matronly the nature of their
relationship becomes slightly unpleasant if she can be perceived as
a predatory older woman. As the fifth voice in the quintet she needs
to blend well with the other voices. Best in the role is Christa Ludwig
for Jochum, singing with her characteristic expressiveness; Julia Hamari
for Solti sounds no older than Bode’s Eva; Ruth Hesse for Karajan,
on the contrary, sounds very matronly. Cornelia Kalisch, a less-known
singer than her rivals, is just about right.
At the bottom end of the sonic spectrum comes Eva’s father Veit
Pogner, which is a gift of a role for any bass. The part is well taken
in all the sets here. Kurt Moll is no exception, and Wagner’s
cruel demand for a high F at the end of his address in Act One does
not discommode him at all. Karl Ridderbusch is similarly effective in
the Karajan set, as is Hans Sotin for Solti. Peter Lagger for Jochum
is rather more brusque, but not unacceptably so.
The Nightwatchman might seem like a very minor role - he has only twenty
bars to sing in the whole of the lengthy opera - but he has the last
word in Act Two and it has rightly been the custom to cast the part
from strength. Solti in his set employs the oddly named “Werner
Klumblikholt,” a pseudonym formed from an anagram of “Bernd
Weikl” and “Kurt Moll”, both of whom sing at various
stages. This peculiar idea means that we get good singing, but seems
weird in the extreme when presumably there were alternative singers
available. It would be impossible in the theatre for the singer of Beckmesser
to double the role. Karajan (with Kurt Moll) and Jochum (with the resonant
Victor von Halem) both avoid this mistake. Here we have the young René
Pape, already recognisably a major Wagnerian singer in the making, phrasing
with real sensitivity even if he does sound
very young.
The remaining Masters, presumably drawn from the forces of the Bavarian
State Opera, make a well-matched team with no obviously weak links.
The chorus sing with clear enthusiasm and enjoyment; they raise the
roof with their
Wach auf! The orchestra, lineal descendants of
those who gave the first performance, have the notes in the very marrow
of their being. They play as though possessed, and time and again one
notices delights in the felicitous scoring which simply don’t
register as well in live theatrical performances. Sawallisch is regarded
in some quarters as an efficient
Kapellmeister rather than a
conductor with original ideas, but he doesn’t put a foot wrong
in this superbly paced performance. The results are often exciting in
the correct sort of way, without any idiosyncrasies to draw attention
to themselves. Even in the complex riot individual lines are given their
proper due, and the orchestral postlude to the quintet has a real yearning
intensity.
The recording is also superlative, enabling us to hear plenty of detail
without highlighting individual lines in an unnatural manner. Heppner
is not artificially boosted against the accompanying hubbub during the
final verse of
Fanget an! but still manages to make himself heard
… just. We are given the sound effects which Wagner prescribes
in the score - the marking of the chalk, the hammering of the shoes
- but nothing extraneous is added except a little background chatter
from the crowd in the final scene to justify the call for
Silentium!
We don’t have to endure the hearty cavortings of the apprentices,
which means we are able to enjoy thoroughly the delicacy of Wagner’s
scoring in their dance. The offstage brass contributions that precede
this scene are set in their properly distant perspective, with atmosphere
in plenty.
As a primary recommendation for a studio recording of
Meistersinger
this set comes with one tremendous handicap. We are provided with no
text or translation of this most elaborate of operatic plots. Similar
EMI issues in this series (the Kempe
Lohengrin, the Karajan
Tristan,
the Hollreiser
Rienzi, the Goodall
Parsifal and even Karajan’s
Meistersinger) have come with a bonus CD containing libretto
and synopsis - not here. All right, it is not difficult to obtain these
items elsewhere - not always the case with such omissions - but it is
hard to understand why EMI should have so spoiled their excellent ship
for a ha’p’orth of tar. This especially when they already
had such a CD available for the Karajan reissue although William Hedley
complained about the procedure in his
review
of that set for this site. Don’t let that put you off investigating
the most consistently well-cast studio recording of
Meistersinger
in the catalogues. On a purely personal level, like William Hedley I
retain a soft spot for the Jochum set even while recognising its quirks
and deficiencies.
Paul Corfield Godfrey
