Sena Jurinac is one of those names that is always mentioned 
          with bated breath when Strauss singing is discussed; back in those days, 
          so the story goes, they really knew how to sing this music. Her glorious 
          Oktavian in the wonderful Erich Kleiber Rosenkavalier lends credence 
          to this view, and she was later equally at home as the Marschallin. 
          The other composer with whom she was particularly identified was Mozart 
          and there, too, she alternated between Cherubino and the Countess with 
          apparent ease. She was the Leonora of Klemperer’s Covent Garden Fidelio, 
          though for the recording her place was taken by Christa Ludwig. 
        
 
        
This was before the days when everybody recorded everything, 
          usually several times over. Another of the Strauss "greats", 
          Lisa Della Casa, had recorded the Four Last Songs, then came the Schwarzkopf 
          version and that was evidently held to be enough. More recently a Jurinac 
          performance from 1951 given in Denmark under Fritz Busch came to light 
          and has been widely praised. But the prospect of hearing her at a more 
          mature stage and with more recent sound is clearly tempting (a 1960 
          performance conducted by Milan Horvat has also circulated). 
        
 
        
Unfortunately there are problems. Firstly the sound. 
          I don’t know whether these are actual BBC tapes or whether none exist 
          and somebody’s off-the-air job has been pressed into service but it 
          certainly sounds like the latter. The orchestra is just an inchoate 
          mass and the voice, prone to distortion, hogs the picture. The frequency 
          range is very limited, just like old medium-wave radio sets used to 
          sound. Of course, this may all be the result of the Royal Albert Hall’s 
          then untamed acoustic. 
        
 
        
Then there is Sargent. As Alan Blyth’s notes kindly 
          put it, he "was never a conductor to linger". He even adds 
          that these songs "benefit from his firm approach". Well, I 
          suppose if I were writing the booklet notes rather than reviewing the 
          disc, I should have felt obliged to say something similar. As it is 
          I prefer to call a spade a spade and say that Sargent barges through 
          the music with a crass insensitivity that apparently stems from a blissful 
          unawareness of what the songs are all about. He shaves about five minutes 
          off most other performances. 
        
 
        
In spite of the odds there are some ravishing, soaring 
          phrases from Jurinac, but there are also moments where she sounds uneasy 
          at having to negotiate difficult phrases while in the grip of Sargent’s 
          tight tempi. A remarkable performance of this work was given in Rome 
          in 1969 by Gundula Janowitz and Sergiu Celibidache (it has circulated 
          in bootleg form, I believe). This was before the days when the Romanian 
          maestro’s tempi became impossibly languorous (he takes a little over 
          six minutes longer than Sargent, but that is only about a minute over 
          the norm) and he uncovers details in the score of which Sargent seems 
          only dimly aware. More important, Janowitz has all the time she needs 
          to soar up to her high notes and to float round all the difficult corners. 
          It may be true, as Blyth says, that these songs "have in recent 
          times received some pretty self-indulgent performances", and it 
          is known that Strauss himself took and encouraged a brisk, no-nonsense 
          view of his music generally. On the whole I am in favour of maintaining 
          these Straussian first principles (I much prefer the Kleiber Rosenkavalier 
          to the Karajan, for this reason), but I have the idea that a certain 
          slowing down of the tempi in the Four Last Songs over the years has 
          somehow opened them up and revealed their true meaning. But in any case, 
          Sargent was speedy even for his time; in 1959 in Turin a young firebrand 
          named Marilyn Horne, still singing as a soprano, performed the work 
          under the sympathetic Mario Rossi, an erstwhile Toscanini protégé 
          and never one to dawdle, but one who had learnt from the cradle that 
          singers need time to breathe; they took about five minutes longer than 
          Sargent. The RAI recording was better, too, reinforcing my conviction 
          that this BBC one is an off-the-air job. 
        
 
        
The 1957 recording of Ludwig’s Lieder eines fahrenden 
          Gesellen is better still, with the voice clear and well-present. 
          The orchestra does sound a long way back, though, which makes it difficult 
          to judge Cluytens’s conducting. He is well remembered as a musician 
          with an ear for the sonorities of Debussy and Ravel and also as a fine 
          interpreter of certain of the less dramatic German/Austrian classics 
          (for example the Beethoven "Pastoral"). His official discography 
          contains no Mahler. Standing in 
          for an ailing Klemperer, he relishes 
          the gentler atmospheres but also brings much vitality to the third song, 
          as well as establishing a sympathetic rapport with the singer. What 
          seems to be lacking is the tangy biting edge which the true Mahler conductors 
          find. Still, Ludwig’s sumptuous tones can be enjoyed. At about this 
          time she recorded the cycle with the Philharmonia under Boult; though 
          she made later recordings of Kindertotenlieder with Karajan the 
          only subsequent recording of the present cycle I’ve been able to trace 
          is a live issue under Böhm. So one way or another it seems we are 
          destined to hear Ludwig’s Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen under 
          conductors not exactly famous for their Mahler, and I leave her admirers 
          to sort out the pros and cons of each. 
        
 
        
By this time I was wondering if there really was much 
          justification for this CD. The first of the Rückert Lieder changed 
          my mind. This is exquisite singing, with Geoffrey Parson’s piano weaving 
          the most delicate web round the vocal line. Ich bin der Welt 
          is suitably restrained and inward-looking while Um Mitternacht reaches 
          great heights of eloquence. 
        
 
        
This 1978 recital shows Ludwig still at the height 
          of her vocal powers, her warm generous tones enriching all three composers. 
          Ruhe, meine Seele, makes a fascinating comparison with the recent 
          version from Katarina Karnéus; on the one hand we have a young 
          singer revelling in her first vocal glory, on the other we have the 
          conviction of years of experience. I’m glad to have them both. 
        
 
        
The Brahms pieces, encores I imagine, conclude in warm 
          and communicative style – she even raises a laugh at the end of Ständchen, 
          quite an achievement with a non-German audience. 
        
 
        
All the same, this is a patchy disc, not one for the 
          non-specialist. Just to make things worse texts and translations are 
          not included. A note says they can be found at www.imgartists.com. 
          I tried. I went to the BBC Legends section and it gave me a list of 
          artists I could search for. Neither Jurinac nor Ludwig was among them. 
          So I logged out none the wiser. A vast and continually expanding selection 
          of lieder and other vocal music texts with (usually) translations can 
          be found at www.recmusic.org/lieder/. 
          When let down by your CD booklet, try there. 
        
 
        
Christopher Howell