The Celibidache Edition: The Swedish Radio Recordings
Disc 1 - Dvorak: Cello Concerto in B minor,
Jacqueline Du Pré, cello
Disc 2 - Franck: Symphony in D &
Hindemith: Mathis der Maler
Disc 3 - Sibelius:
Symphony No 2 in D minor* & Symphony
No 5 in E flat major
Disc 4 - Richard Strauss: Till Eulenspiegel
& Don Juan; Shostakovich: Symphony
No 9 in E flat major
Sergiu Celibidache, Swedish
radio Symphony Orchestra
DG 469 069-2 4 discs
- 45'20, 70'01, 81'18 & 60'35 - Stereo/mono* only available as
a boxed set, Full
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Celibidache's conducting career in the fifties and sixties took him largely
out of Germany, a country he refused to conduct in immediately after 1954.
This was almost entirely due to the fact that the Berlin Philharmonic had
just elected Karajan as Furtwängler's successor rather than Celibidache
himself who had been the orchestra's principal conductor during
Furtwängler's enforced absence. He did not conduct the BPO again until
almost 40 years later and spent the intervening years conducting an array
of radio orchestras and less than world-class German ensembles. Deutsche
Grammophon's seventh volume of their acclaimed Celibidache edition concentrates
on one of these orchestras - the Swedish Radio Symphony.
It should be said from the outset that Celibidache largely gets superlatively
responsive playing from his Swedish forces (albeit very fallible playing).
The depth of string sound in the first movement of the Franck, for example,
is more than suggestive of that special sound Celibidache could conjure from
any orchestra he conducted - breathtaking string sonorities that are as
resplendent as they are luminous. Where many conductors can take Franck's
darkened palate and somehow turn it into a glutinous morass of density,
Celibidache separates balances so violin and cello lines are spliced together
and then splayed apart like a fragmented rainbow. In the Strauss tone poems,
brass balances are ideal and woodwind playing full of character. The Sibelius
offers stunning playing that, whilst at times Brucknerian in its expansiveness,
is always utterly compelling. I don't think I have heard a better version
of the Fifth symphony, and few that match the exhilaration of the Second.
For many, the prime interest of this set will be the first disc, an impassioned
performance of Dvorak's Cello Concerto with Jacqueline Du Pré. It
is not a disappointment, but I would be wary of people who say it finds both
Celibidache and Du Pré at their most spontaneous and inspirational.
Du Pré is, as ever in this work, intense - although I found her intonation
somewhat less than perfect and some of the phrasing distinctly heavy, with
portamento old-fashioned by today's standards. The cello's first entrance,
for example, is grandly done but it sounds extraordinarily laboured. Elsewhere
in both the first and third movements there are moments where she produces
ritardandos of awesome breadth that seem out of place, even in this most
romantic of cello concertos. Celi never seemed as fluent accompanying soloists
as he was the martinet alone on the podium and those he did - Michaelangeli,
Haendel, Fournier and Barenboim being amongst the best I have heard - were
all highly characterful, even wilful, in their own right. Du Pré and
Celibidache do not see, or achieve, much symmetry in this work with Celi
wanting to push ahead in stringendo and Du Pré, oddly, wanting to
hold back in ritenuto. It makes for an uncomfortable experience, tense though
the performance is.
The Sibelius symphonies (occupying more than 80 minutes on one disc and hence
causing some problems on one of my players) are vital performances. No 2,
dating from 1965, is in mono - but still sounds splendid, not least in the
thrilling brass perorations of the final movement. There is more than a hint
of Barbirolli in this performance - not least in Celi's handling of the wind
phrasing, particularly in the second movement. Elsewhere, Celi is Barbirolli-like
with fleet and measured tempi, something that is not always a success, and
often a source of diffusiveness in texture. The Fifth, however, is an
incandescent performance that is thrillingly played, even if it does not
have the opulence of Karajan's justly famous Berlin version from the 1960s.
Although this performance is often Brucknerian in its spaciousness, Celi
is also capable of some quite extraordinary shifts of tempo that leave his
players following him like stampeding horses. The Thor's Hammer episode in
the third movement is a triumphant display of Celibidache at his best, the
shifts in tempo between the helter-skelter first and second movements compelling
with the move from allegro to presto to andante beautifully scaled. Hear
the close of the final movement with the hymnal stridency of its theme given
cosmic expansiveness and lyricism and you will never want to hear another
interpretation of this symphony again. It is by far the greatest performance
on these discs.
Celibidache was a master Straussian and both of the performances of Don
Juan and Till Eulenspiegel vie with the best available. I marginally
prefer the greater precision and expediency of Celi's Stuttgart Don
- a nobler, more luscious hero than the slightly more urbane Swedish
Don. Till is magnificent for its humour and drive and abounds
with wit and sarcasm. DG, both in their press release for this set and on
their web-site, incorrectly states this as being the second Till to
be released in the Celibidache edition. It is Don Juan which is
duplicated.
Shostakovich's bland Ninth symphony has never been a favourite of mine -
coming as it does between the trauma of the Eighth and Tenth symphonies.
Celi's advocacy of this work does little to change my mind about it, and
I am not sure idiomatically this is anywhere near as persuasive a performance
as is, say, Malko's Ninth with the New York Phil. As in Till Celi
is clever at getting the psychological parody to manifest itself in musical
sound, but this is largely too melancholic a performance for my tastes with
a waltz of almost saccharine sweetness. Celibidache conducted Hindemith's
music often during his career and his performance of Mathis der Maler
is magnificent in penetrating the complex contrapuntilism of this work. The
brilliance of the fugue in the final movement, for example, is handled with
the most astute use of drama and yet retains its tension when most conductors
let it lapse. Strings are spaciously intense - almost rapt - in their phrasing.
Celi gives this work a genuine gravity that belies its complex, almost formulaic
conception.
Anything by Celibidache is worth hearing and these discs contain some remarkable
performances (notably the Strauss, the Sibelius and the Hindemith). Production
values are again extremely high, although this set does not contain any rehearsal
material - something all six preceding sets have contained on a bonus disc.
It was rumoured from the start that this edition was going to eventually
contain over 60 discs - so there is far to go. Apart from Celi's Italian
radio recordings from the fifties and sixties, there are some key recordings
that should be considered by DG for future release - including recordings
Celi made with both the Danish Radio Orchestra and the London Symphony Orchestra.
From the latter, there is a Bartok Concerto for Orchestra,
some Debussy, a Dukas L'apprenti sorcier, some Kodaly and Ravel, and
if it can be found, his Prokofiev Romeo & Juliet excerpts.
Additionally, CD issues of Barenboim in the two Brahms concertos and the
Berlin Phil Bruckner Seven are long overdue for release. Two Munich recordings
EMI did not release were a Strauss Four Last Songs with Jessye Norman
and the Prelude and Liebestod from Tristan. I have not heard the Strauss,
but the Wagner (once on Meteor from Japan) is one of the most incandescent
accounts of the Tristan I have ever heard. It sums up more completely
than anything else those elements which made this conductor so great.
Marc Bridle
Performances
Dvorak - ****
Franck - ***(*)
Hindemith - *****
Sibelius 2 - ****(*)
Sibelius 5 - *****
Strauss - ****(*)
Shostakovich - ***(*)
Sound - ***(*)
Previous review from Christopher Fifield
Sergiu Celibidache (1912-1996) was a flamboyant, charismatic conductor and
a musician of strongly held convictions. He was a meticulous rehearser, usually
from memory and that not only due to failing eyesight but also because there
was nothing he did not know about every detail of the music he was preparing
for performance. He insisted on so many rehearsals ('his musical standards
border on the inhuman', observed an adoring orchestral player) that few
orchestras could afford him ('there is no miracle in music, only work' he
would assert to justify his demands). He pointedly refused to conduct opera
because it meant making too many compromises. He was also an implacable foe
of the gramophone record. For Celibidache listening to a recording of a great
piece of music was 'like going to bed with a photograph of Brigitte Bardot'.
His view of the performance of music was encapsulated thus, 'Music arises
out of the moment, and this moment cannot be fixed or repeated'. His speeds
were judged according to several precepts and conditions including the complexity
of note values (he loathed the metronome), their epiphenomena (in other words
the sounds which appear from the division of the main note after it is played),
and the acoustical properties of the hall in which the performance was taking
place ('time is space'). Many consider his speeds too slow but most concede
that he was capable of producing immaculate articulation, brilliant detail
and vivid colours. His eye for phrasing and his ear for balance was everywhere
in all he conducted.
After his death his widow and son decided to grant permission for his
performances to be put on CD and a flood of live recordings of concerts has
emerged during the past five years. EMI have released his concerts with his
last orchestra, the Munich Philharmonic, whilst DGG have his earlier encounters
with two other orchestras he headed, the Stuttgart Radio Symphony Orchestra
(who could afford to give him plenty of rehearsal time) on discs from the
late 1970s and early 1980s, and with the Stockholm-based Swedish Radio Orchestra.
Unfortunately this set is the first not to include a CD of him rehearsing,
which often proved as revelatory as the results. Celibidache was only briefly
in Stockholm, between 1965 and 1971, but left his mark with both players
and public alike. Significantly he had few encounters with soloists (a marked
exception was Michelangeli), personality clashes generally produced unhappy
results but not with Jacqueline du Pré, who came to Sweden for two
performances of the Dvorak cello concerto in November 1967, and the two got
along well. Her unmistakeable sound with its quintessential physical attack
at her first entry mark a striking encounter between two musical phenomena.
He insisted on (and got) a piano rehearsal followed by three or four sessions
with her and the orchestra, for his view was that the orchestra was not a
servile accompanist but one half of a musical partnership. The result was
a chamber music-like approach; her playing is intensely romantic and while
phrases hang in the air (such as in the wonderful duet with the clarinet
in the finale), the vibrato she uses has passionate warmth. The portamento
sometimes seems old-fashioned but it all falls into place in the amazing
clarity of both artists' musical thought in the Adagio. Du Pré clearly
loved this music almost as much as her beloved Elgar concerto, and the result
is flawless playing. Celibidache had an amazing capacity to make the listener
come fresh to a work, however familiar it may appear to be, but in this instance
we have the glorious playing of Du Pré as well.
What a pity DGG could not have filled the thirty minutes left on this CD
with either some of the rehearsal of the concerto (if any of it was indeed
recorded) or another work conducted by Celibidache. They were far more generous
in eighty minutes of Sibelius, a bubbling account of the youthful second
symphony with its skittish woodwind choruses and blazing brass. This recording
(1965) was made early in the six year partnership between the SRSO and
Celibidache, whilst that of the fifth (1971) clearly shows the difference
he made to the orchestra during his tenure as conductor (he forbade the
designation of his appointment to any orchestra as Chief Conductor). Not
only has the playing quality significantly improved, but ensemble has unified
and the sound taken on more refinement. This is not to denigrate the playing
of the second symphony, there are magical moments aplenty, in particular
the hushed pianissimo the strings achieve at times in the Adagio.
Every programme Celibidache conducted with the Radio Orchestra had to have
a week's rehearsal (hitherto only two and a half days including the dress
rehearsal were allocated) and it shows, particularly in the playing two of
Strauss' tone poems. His detailed work would probably be neither tolerated
not affordable today but in his superbly graphic reading of Till
Eulenspiegel the solos are all immaculately refined in true Straussian
style from that nerve-wracking solo horn passage to the leader's rapid descent
of Till sliding down the bannisters, and the strangulated shrieks of the
E flat clarinet as he goes to the gallows. It is exhilarating playing, and
you can tell what's going on without knowing the story of Till's merry pranks.
Don Juan gets off to a frenetic start but the performance (recorded
in Nuremburg during a tour by the orchestra of Germany in November 1970)
develops into a highly sensuous one with a glorious climax. En route Celibidache
is always considerate for the orchestral solos excellently taken by his leader,
principal oboist, clarinettist and horn player. The degree of accuracy in
this performance of a work notoriously prone to accidents at any point along
the way simply goes to show the extent of Celibidache's meticulous rehearsing,
while his way of drawing the listener's ear through the textures makes for
compelling listening. Coupled with this pair of tone poems is Shostakovich's
quixotic ninth symphony, the 1945 creation expected to celebrate the Russian
part of the victory at the end of World War II. Instead the result is a huge
musical tongue in cheek, full of acerbic wit and acid humour. Celibidache's
view of the work is given in this clean cut performance (March 1971) full
of biting parody and wistful melancholy.
The familiar Franck symphony is easy meat for Celibidache, whose favoured
interpretations of both French and German music find a comfortable synthesis
in this Wagner-influenced work. He succeeds in drawing out the elegance of
the phrasing, while once again giving both space and breadth to his players
in their respective solos. For his powerful interpretations of music from
the German repertoire, turn to the EMI set of Bruckner symphonies or the
DGG Brahms cycle, but Celibidache also had a special affinity of a contemporary
German composer, Paul Hindemith. Furtwängler took a defensive stance
against the Nazis over Hindemith's 1934 opera Mathis der Maler and
paid the price with the loss of his post as State Music Director, while
Celibidache did not have to make such a sacrifice when he conducted most
if not all of the composer's orchestral output. His interpretation is
unsurprisingly full of powerful conviction, drawing on the strengths of the
work's vivid orchestration and, in places, its contrapuntal infrastructure.
Celibidache, unlike Stokowski, was not one for effects but a conductor whose
conviction and drive was both purposeful and unshakeable in the pursuit of
interpretation. There is never a moment when your attention will wander when
listening to this man's musicmaking.
Christopher Fifield
Performance
Recording
