Feuersnot was Strauss’s second opera, following in the wake of the
disastrous Munich première of Guntram which had been nearly universally
condemned by the critics for its perceived imitation of Wagner. At first
this comedy gained a degree of approval, but it was soon eclipsed by the
overwhelming triumph of Salome and its successors. Its subsequent career
both in the opera house and on record has been patchy. Beecham mounted a
1910 production in London in the wake of his triumphant performance of
Elektra earlier the same year, when the work was given in an English
translation by the composer William Wallace, which Beecham so enjoyed that
he quoted lines from it in his autobiography A mingled chime. The
translation included in the booklet here, credited to Susan Maria Praeder,
is more literally correct although it lacks Wallace’s witty rhymes with
their almost Belloc-ian insouciance. Beecham goes on to observe that
Feuersnot failed to find favour with audiences, and his London performances
of Salome and Rosenkavalier which soon followed drove the work from the
repertoire.
Even so it is surprising that Feuersnot has only two alternative versions
listed in the currently available catalogue, both deriving from live
performances and one of them (conducted by Rudolf Kempe) a real antique in
mono sound. There has only been one studio recording in the past: this, with
Julia Varady and Bernd Weikl in the two leading roles, has appeared on a
couple of labels at various times, but the CD version I own on Acanta comes
without any text or translation – which in a comedy like this is a very real
drawback despite the excellent sound and performance. It last appeared on
the bargain Arts label, but seems now to have disappeared altogether even
though second-hand copies are still listed on Amazon for around £10 - new
copies at double that, which is more than twice the original Arts price. The
only other current stereo competition for this new recording therefore comes
from Leinsdorf’s live Berlin recording with the excellent Gundula Janowitz
and John Shirley-Quirk (
review); and this in its turn is available only as part
of a DG compendium of the complete Strauss operas in which some operas are
much better served than others.
This new release therefore falls to be considered largely in isolation,
although I will continue to make references to the old Varady/Weikl version
conducted by Hans Fricke. In the first place this new recording, although it
employs the same chorus and orchestra as with Fricke, has the obvious
advantage of recorded sound that is thirty years more recent than its
predecessor, good though that was. There are only two roles of any size, but
Fricke boasted more familiar names among the multitude of comprimario
members of the cast – Kaja Borris, Friedrich Lenz, Marga Schiml and Kieth
Engen to name a few – although none of Ulf Schirmer’s cast are less than
adequate in the occasional contributions they are called upon to make.
Conducting honours too are more or less even, with Schirmer only slightly
brisker and dispatching the score in about a minute and a half less time
than Fricke — a very minor difference in a work of this length. The more
modern recorded sound is better differentiated than either of the earlier
stereo versions.
Which brings us down to the comparisons between Julia Varady and Simone
Schneider, and between Bernd Weikl and Markus Eiche. Both Schneider and
Eiche have impressive credentials in the fields of Wagner and Strauss;
although the former began her career as a high coloratura singing the Queen
of the Night and Zerbinetta, her more recent Straussian roles have included
the Marschallin in Der Rosenkavalier, the Empress in Die Frau ohne Schatten
and Chrysothemis in Elektra. She is fully the equal of Varady, with a warmth
and sense of Straussian line which approach the incomparable Janowitz.
Eiche, although again he yields some points of detail to Shirley-Quirk, has
a beautiful sense of presence although he could be more potent when he
pronounces his curse on the citizens of Munich — with shades of Strauss’s
reaction to their reception of Guntram. Here Weikl’s greater bullishness and
strength of venom does pay dividends.
One point of comparison: while both the CPO and Acanta sets make the
inevitable break between CDs at the same point, the Acanta set — at least in
the version I own — has only one track per side, which is a major
disadvantage if you wish to play just one section of the work – such as the
final ‘Love scene’ at the end which Strauss himself extracted as an
orchestral piece for separate performance. Indeed, it is in its presentation
that this new issue really scores: not only the provision of separate
tracks, but also the fact that unlike all its rivals it furnishes a complete
text and translation. It also provides a thought-provoking essay on the work
itself by Laurenz Lütteken which does not always avoid the prolixity of
academicism which sometimes afflicts CPO’s booklet notes but manages to read
well in the translation by the long-suffering Susan Marie Praeder - who in
the past has sometimes had to cope, not always successfully, with the
farthest-flung reaches of German musical technical terms.
For those who already own Feuersnot in either of the versions by Varady
and Weikl under Fricke, or Janowitz and Shirley-Quirk under Leinsdorf, there
may be no real need for the Straussian to feel the urgency of replacing
these earlier discs. For those coming fresh to the work, this must now be
the recording of choice. It yields few if any points to its predecessors,
and provides a fully documented introduction to a work which deserves to be
treated as more than just a curiosity of interest only to Strauss
completists. The cover illustration is good, too.
Paul Corfield Godfrey
