Suppose a conductor took out his copy of the famous 
          Furtwängler disc of Schumann 4 and, listening to it through headphones, 
          conducted the performance he was hearing, with a live orchestra in front 
          of him; would that orchestra follow his lead and clone the Furtwängler 
          performance? Well, actually not, for a start because the players would 
          laugh such a "conductor" off the podium. Cloning a famous 
          performance is not quite that simple, yet the fact remains that one 
          has been practically cloned here. The signs are there from the 
          start. The first statement of the opening motto theme, followed by a 
          crescendo leading to an offbeat crash from the full orchestra, finds 
          Thielemann preceding that crash with an extraordinarily prolonged upbeat 
          such as only the Master himself dared – and as near as makes no difference 
          the same prolongation, though he is not quite so convincing in 
          timing how to move on. Thereafter the introduction rolls forward in 
          waves, just as the Master’s did, and breaks out into an identically 
          deliberate, but energetic, Lebhaft which is characterised by 
          those same well-remembered slackenings and surges. It is, in a certain 
          sense, very finely brought off, with a wholehearted orchestral response, 
          alert to every shift in tempo. The only thing is that the ebbings of 
          tempo, and in particular those glimpses of D major serenity, sometimes 
          bring a lowering of tension which was not the case with the great original. 
          Thielemann is masterly in showing that it is possible to reproduce what 
          Furtwängler did, but reproducing why he did it is 
          not so easy. 
        
And why reproduce so exactly one of Furtwängler’s 
          oddest traits? Frankly, I had always supposed that the long, long pause 
          between the first movement’s unfinished cadence and the A minor chord 
          which heralds the second movement was down to the engineers, unaware 
          that the two movements are not separated by a pause, rather than something 
          that Furtwängler did himself (I have the Furtwängler on an 
          old Heliodor LP, I don’t know if this gap has remained the same on recent 
          transfers), but here it is reproduced to the second. And so it goes 
          on. The broken phrasing of the Romanze, the sunset dying away 
          from the sternly energetic Scherzo, the full Wagnerian works in the 
          famous build up to the Finale and all the ebbs and flows with which 
          this last movement’s progress is mapped out are exactly as one remembered 
          them from the model. 
        
I do appreciate the problem. Ever since I heard Furtwängler’s 
          absolutely riveting account it has burnt itself into my mind and for 
          me, in a way, Schumann’s 4th Symphony is that. While 
          this fact has not wholly prevented me from appreciating other interpretations, 
          they always sound to me like variants (even if my intellect tells me 
          that they, and not Furtwängler, are closer to what Schumann actually 
          wrote). As I am not a conductor I haven’t had to face the problem of 
          how to resolve my internal conflict between Schumann/Furtwängler 
          (which is a part of my being) and Schumann himself (i.e. the score as 
          my only guide). I can only suppose that Thielemann, faced with a similar 
          conflict, decided emotively in favour of the first solution. I must 
          seem a thoroughly ungrateful fellow, feeling myself an "orphan 
          of Furtwängler" when I hear it done differently, and now criticising 
          a performance that sounds the same; heard live, maybe I’d just be grateful 
          for hearing in a concert something that approximated so closely to an 
          interpretation which has been silent for half a century. The problem 
          is that on disc I have the original available, old-sounding compared 
          to this but pretty good for its age. And the fact is that Thielemann 
          in the last resort does not quite provide the same overwhelming experience. 
          It’s not that he has not made all the vagaries thoroughly his own, but 
          he cannot avoid the impression that he is traversing charted territory 
          while Furtwängler was launched into unknown regions of his soul 
          (to paraphrase Whitman). And, though the discographic world is not flooded 
          with alternative Furtwängler Schumann Fourths as it is with Eroicas, 
          surely his other performances were different? 
        
In the case of the first symphony there is also a Furtwängler 
          precedent, a live performance from Munich which has not been so widely 
          reissued and which I have not heard. Maybe this is all for the better; 
          in this case I can take what Thielemann has to offer on its own terms. 
          And during the first two movements I was pretty impressed. Tempi are 
          deliberate but he knows, for example, how to make a sequence grow 
          so that it does not seem merely repetitive. My problems began with 
          the scherzo which really does seem a long way below Schumann’s "Molto 
          vivace" and, however carefully phrased, rather lugubrious. And 
          even more with the Finale. It may be fair enough to sidle into the main 
          theme (after the opening flourish) below tempo once or even twice 
          (picking up the tempo as you go along), but it seems a bit much to do 
          it every time. This is symptomatic of the fact this Finale doesn’t 
          quite go, and as Finales are expected to go then some 
          people are going to think that Schumann himself had written a Finale 
          which speaks amiably of woodland tales but hardly makes for a symphonic 
          conclusion. The essential Schumannesque exultation is missing. I know 
          that the symphonies come from an older Schumann than the one who wrote 
          all those infatuated-sounding piano works for Clara, overflowing into 
          the annus mirabilis of song when he married her, but to suggest 
          that his Eusebius was by now content to croon by the fireside while 
          an avuncular Florestan looks on seems reductive, and inconsistent with 
          the psychology of the composer who later threw himself into the Rhine. 
          I checked out a performance Celibidache conducted in Milan in 1968 and, 
          while he found plenty of time for detail, he also caught that overall 
          surge. I do feel, though, that Thielemann would be well-suited to the 
          homely pleasures of Raff and that DG should engage him to record a cycle 
          of that composer’s symphonies. 
        
The famous Schumann cycles (Sawallisch, Karajan, Szell, 
          Kubelik, and Boult if you can find it) are all in their various ways 
          classical interpretations. If you prefer a romantic alternative then 
          give these daringly well-meanings a try, especially if you have difficulties 
          with the historic sound of the Furtwängler versions. 
          Christopher Howell