Dimitri Mitropoulos was a quixotic figure, even at 
          an early age, unable to decide whether to take up music or to become 
          a monk. Later on in his career he was nicknamed "The Monk". 
          He was a strange character, always disposing of his not inconsiderable 
          income to colleagues in need. This was done to such an extent that at 
          the close of his life, he was almost destitute. His musical knowledge 
          was immense. He memorised scores, no matter how complex and conducted 
          from memory. 
        
 
        
After his early life in his native Greece, he moved 
          to Minneapolis where he worked tirelessly with the orchestra, governors 
          and audiences to build up ensemble which was the toast of the USA. After 
          many years in the mid-west, with his reputation steadily growing, he 
          was appointed as Music Director of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. 
          This orchestra had a fearsome reputation for devouring conductors, and 
          although the initial years were very fruitful, the politics and behind 
          the scenes back-biting eventually took its toll on his health and his 
          confidence, although not on his abilities. 
        
 
        
His conducting style was also strange, involving the 
          batonless hands and a movement style quite unlike any other conductor. 
          When his career in New York was on the skids, he travelled to Europe 
          where he was almost deified, and it is said that, had he not died, he 
          would have been appointed as Music Director of the Vienna Philharmonic. 
        
 
        
His musical style is very much evident in these recordings, 
          and emerges clearly despite the mono recording and balancing problems 
          in the Festspielhaus, Salzburg. He had a reputation for bringing out 
          the inner parts of a score, and yet allowing the orchestra considerable 
          licence in matters of phrasing etc. His recording career was fairly 
          small, since with his extrovert style, he could cause problems in the 
          recording studio. His contract with Columbia primarily involved using 
          him as accompanist rather than an orchestral conductor. However some 
          of his commercially available performances were stunning. 
        
 
        
In the Ravel, Robert Casadesus is somewhat approximate 
          in his playing, and so the full effect of the performance is lost. However 
          this will give you an idea of how Mitropolous balanced his players. 
          Throughout, you will hear anew the inner detail of Ravel’s wonderful 
          score. 
        
 
        
Mitropoulos was a keen amateur mountaineer, and at 
          times of stress, he would set off into the countryside wherever he was 
          resident and climb, often by himself. This was one of his favourite 
          pastimes, the other was to watch movies. His love of the wide open spaces 
          and the grandeur of the high peaks, present in abundance in Strauss’s 
          symphony, stirred in Mitropoulos and the Vienna orchestra a tremendous 
          drive and romantic sweep. I can honestly say that if you have not heard 
          this disc before, Strauss’s work will come as an absolute revelation 
          to you. It apparently affected both orchestra and audience in much the 
          same way. It is very much our loss that Mitropoulos’s career ended, 
          only a few years after this recording, in 1960. 
        
 
        
Often live recordings taken from festival archives 
          are a way for a record company to make a quick profit from a famous 
          artist, and the results can be to the detriment of that artist. Here 
          however, we have a conductor who is relatively unknown (certainly today) 
          who performed best in a live environment. We are in Orfeo’s debt for 
          allowing us to eavesdrop on these wonderful performances. 
        
 
        
John Phillips