Alexander ZEMLINSKY (1871-1942)
Der Traumgörge (1906)
Janis Martin (soprano) – Princess / Gertraud, Josef Protschka (tenor) – Görge, Pamela Coburn (soprano) – Grete, Hartmut Welker (baritone) – Hans / Kaspar, Martin Blasius (bass) – Pastor, Peter Haage (tenor) – Innkeeper, Victor van Halem (bass) – Miller / Mattes, Heinz Kruse (tenor) – Züngl, Birgit Calm (soprano) – Innkeeper’s Wife, Gabriele Maria Ronge (soprano) – Marei
Hess Radio Chorus and Youth Choir
Frankfurt Radio Symphony Orchestra/Gerd Albrecht
rec. 1987, Alte Opera, Frankfurt
CAPRICCIO C5395 [48:19 + 62:39]
From the 1980s onwards, the enterprising Capriccio label released a whole raft of recordings of rare German operas of the early twentieth century, many of them indeed world premières on disc. They included works by Kurt Weill that had been comprehensively neglected even by the programme of recordings instituted by Lotte Lenya; operas by composers outlawed by the Nazis such as Franz Schreker (anticipating the discoveries of Decca’s ‘Entartete Musik’ series); Schmidt’s rarely heard Notre Dame; and a wholesale exploration of never-before-heard operas by Alexander Zemlinsky, who was just beginning to emerge from obscurity after decades of total oblivion.
The recordings were mostly based on the programmes of German provincial opera houses, who were starting to rediscover these operas afresh. The casting was therefore not always of the best. Some of the editions employed were also annoyingly subjected to cuts both major and minor. Some of the performances did feature singers of the very first rank, and – although the covers were plain and functional at best – the presentation otherwise was superlative. We were given full texts and translations, together with sometimes lengthy essays on aspects of the works themselves, in solidly bound booklets which enabled the first-time listener (and most of us were first-time listeners) to appreciate fully what was going on in the stage action, and to follow the plots.
Capriccio began to reissue these pioneering sets some years ago. They gathered the Kurt Weill rarities into boxes, and gave the other releases new covers. Sadly, they also did their level best to render the performances totally unintelligible to newcomers. They omitted the previously supplied texts and translations, and did not even make them available online, although that material had clearly been originally prepared at considerable initial expense and effort. They then added insult to injury by retaining most of the analytical essays, less than useful to anyone who did not understand the plot of the opera in question. While they retained the synopses from the original issues, those synopses had been meant for reading in conjunction with the texts and translations. So, they made little sense on their own, and were woefully inadequate for any attempt to enlighten the innocent listener.
The synopsis for this issue of Zemlinsky’s Der Traumgörge consists of less than one miserable page, devoid of any cues to connect the text to the music on disc, and totally insufficient for making sense of a highly symbolic plot. It does not even indicate where one act ends and another begins. The track listing has English translations for the opening words of each track, but that hardly begins to address the matter of comprehensibility for anybody other than a fluent German speaker. I have complained before about this nonsensical cheese-paring approach when reviewing reissues of the Kurt Weill boxes, Schmidt’s Notre Dame, and so on. Is it still not too late to address these concerns by now making the formerly supplied texts and translations available online?
This is doubly essential for Zemlinsky’s Der Traumgörge, since this recording remains the only CD performance available in the catalogue. An EMI release with David Kuebler and Patricia Racette, conducted by James Conlon, has succumbed to the deletions axe, although Warner continues to advertise it as available for download. It is also annoying that we are denied the opportunity to hear the opera complete. Gerd Albrecht, as is his wont, makes a considerable number of cuts which reduce the duration of the work by half an hour or so. At least, the cast is of considerable merit. The established names –Josef Protschka, Pamela Coburn, Janis Martin and Hartmut Welker – are supported by a roster of artists whose reputations have burgeoned since the date of the performances recorded live in Frankfurt in 1987.
The staging was produced with support from Hess Radio, who provided the choir and orchestra. Although the recorded balance sets the voices rather too far forward in the mix, the general sound is excellent. But it all goes for nothing unless the listener can follow the words. A vocal score is available online but has no English translation either. I perforce had resort to my personal copy of the original issue where both texts and translations were included in the booklet. I was surprised to find at the time of this writing that one reasonably priced second-hand copy of that original was advertised on Amazon, but that will probably have been snapped up when the review appears, and other copies are at the usual extortionate prices.
The Conlon recording is available online, but again the issue of comprehensibility raises its head. The balance between voices and orchestra is more realistic, but this means that the words are often covered by the orchestra. It does not appear that even when first issued those discs supplied texts or translations, and the online text at one time available appears to have vanished with the Warner reissue. One major advantage would appear to be that it is not substantially cut, since the advertised duration is some half an hour longer than here. If the listener simply wants to wallow in the music without worrying overmuch about what it is all about, then they might as well download the Conlon performance where at least they will get rather more of it. Otherwise anyone who wants to have a physical disc of this Zemlinsky rarity will have no choice but to settle for this crippled reissue.
Paul Corfield Godfrey
