Anyone interested in the history of this symphony needs
to have at least one version of this "live" 1938 recording by the Vienna
Philharmonic conducted by Bruno Walter. So different, and therefore
so illuminating, from his later stereo remake in California in 1961.
Over and above any details of playing and interpretation this is a document
of a unique occasion also. Eight weeks after this performance took place
Austria became part of Hitler’s Third Reich. Remember that when
you sense the presence of the audience and what must have been on their
minds - fear or anticipation, depending on their political viewpoint.
Walter fled westward after this performance and many of the players
in the orchestra would not be in their places when concerts resumed
after the war. So here is the end of an era commemorated by the performance
of a work that was commemorating the end of another. There is a moment
in the first movement, 27 bars from the end, when the whole orchestra
is silent but for the solo flute descending and you can nearly touch
the atmosphere in the hall. It is aspects like these that give recordings
like this their unique quality; one clearly recognised by Walter himself
when producer Fred Gaisberg played him test pressings in Paris a few
weeks later. There were tears in the delighted conductor’s eyes as he
gave Fred Gaisberg the clearance to release the recording commercially.
Many Mahlerites will know the performance. However,
there are always new converts to the cause who need to know why it is
held so dear by so many. Tempo-wise the first movement seems to me near
ideal though many accustomed to the more indulgent, more apparently
moulded, approach to Mahler that has taken over in the last twenty or
thirty years might disagree. This is walking pace with a singing line
that seems as though it's taken in one breath and sung. The strings
of the old pre-war Vienna Philharmonic also ache with nostalgia and
seem to have the flexibility of the human voice as Walter leads them
into his interpretation. But there is also a more restless and cumulatively
unsettling mood that really only becomes apparent by the end. You can
forget the moments of imbalance in the sound level or the limited sonic
generally. Or at least you should if music means more to you than sound.
The second movement is a true rustic Ländler, harsh and stomping,
almost "cheap", reminding us that those conductors and orchestras who
"prettify" Mahler, smooth his sharp edges off, do him no favours.
Hear the bows dig into the strings like village fiddlers at some Upper
Austrian hop. It isn't rushed either, as it often is. Contemporary conductors
of this work should really be made to sit down and hear it before they
arrive on their podiums.
By the arrival of the Rondo Burleske third movement
it must be admitted that the strain is beginning to tell on the VPO.
In one sense this is no bad thing as it adds to the feeling of a world
going smash, which it was about to do outside the concert hall in the
same way as it did a few years after Mahler wrote the symphony. The
orchestra, who can't have played this all that often, hang on for dear
life but I think this only adds to the tension, the feeling of the concert
hall as theatre. Are they going to make it? Yes, but it's a close-run
thing. You really wouldn't want to hear this too often. But then this
is not and never could be a reference version as the fluffs and imprecision
irritate even me at times. But hold it against some of the "squeaky-clean"
digital studio versions of later years and it just demands its place
in the profile of recordings. In some ways the Adagio last movement
is a bit of a disappointment even for an admirer of this performance.
It is certainly the quickest you'll hear in overall tempo. The coda
especially seems to flash by when held against Bernstein, Haitink, Horenstein
and others. The first time I ever heard it (on the old World Record
Club LP issue) I had to follow with a score to convince myself that
nothing had been cut out. Nothing has, of course. Again it’s just different
from what you may be used to. It certainly seems to work in the context
of the rest and the strings are just as glorious here as they were at
the start, listened to through the ageing sonics, of course. I have
often wondered whether Walter sensed that the audience were maybe losing
concentration towards the end and hurried a little more than he might
have done.
The recording was produced in the era before tape recordings
by having two cutting styli running in relay. A non-playing member of
the orchestra sat next to the engineer with a score so the gain control
could be taken up and down to guard against distortion with a man in
view behind the orchestra to signal when to switch on the current. With
this Naxos release we now have four CD versions of this great old recording
available. The others are on EMI Références (CDH 7630292),
Dutton Laboratories (CDBP 9708) and Magic Talent. I don’t have
access to the Magic Talent version, neither can I vouch for its provenance,
so my comparisons have been with the first three.
The Naxos and Dutton have great similarities. They
are both "closer in" than the EMI, therefore more analytical.
In the EMI my "seat" is in the gallery somewhere near the back of the
hall whereas in the Dutton and the Naxos I am in the stalls nearer the
front and the strands of the score are more apparent, instruments plainer,
especially the solos. But there are two important differences between
the Naxos and the Dutton that I think now rules one in and the other
out of consideration. Firstly, the Dutton seems to have virtually eliminated
the surface noise of the original 78rpm pressings. The label indicates
this has been done with Cedar 2 software. Some people might think that
this is a good thing, but I would advise them to think again. The gain,
of course, is that people who dislike any surface don’t have to hear
it. But the loss is that the sound of the orchestra then seems slightly
disembodied and lacking in atmosphere as a result. The Naxos, on the
other hand, has retained a degree of surface from the discs and therefore
also retained a crucial amount of atmosphere and a more believable bass
line, especially in that famous hall acoustic. There is also a slightly
harder edge to the violins high on the stave in the Dutton that doesn’t
seem to trouble the Naxos. What surface there is in the Naxos certainly
didn’t bother me as it is very gentle indeed and I think it provides
an aural reference that the Dutton does not have. The other difference
is that the Dutton seems to have "spread" the mono sound a
little between the two speakers whereas the Naxos is much more centred
- true mono, I think it can be called. I am neutral about this but there
is no doubt that the Naxos is more faithful to the original in leaving
the sound as it is. Of course, both these aspects say much for the philosophy
of the two remastering engineers Mark Obert-Thorn for Naxos and Michael
Dutton for Dutton. Obert-Thorn has worked from pre-war RCA Victor Gold
pressings and though Dutton doesn’t identify his source material I would
suspect there was little difference in the sound of the pressings he
used and that it’s just that Mark Obert-Thorn has, as usual, been less
interventionist with them. Of the two I certainly prefer the Naxos as
it is more natural sounding, more rounded, easier on the ear especially
in the area of the high frequencies.
However, there is still the EMI Références
version to consider. This was remastered by the late Keith Hardwick
and whilst it is possible that he too may have intervened more than
Obert-Thorn did I do still prefer the version that Hardwick has produced
and for one very crucial reason. In spite of the fact that the Naxos
and the Dutton are more analytical, the EMI Références
version gives a better feeling of "being there" and in a recording
like this I find that a clincher. There is a degree more reverberation,
a degree more character to the bass line too and a sweeter sound to
the strings, the violins especially so. Since they are held in a slightly
more distant perspective we even manage to have a better treble top
than the Naxos without the ear-tiring glare of the Dutton. It’s a compromise
that I prefer. I am perfectly prepared to believe that some of this
is the result of artificial enhancement on the part of Keith Hardwick.
However, it is also possible that since this is the official EMI reissue
he had access to the masters in the EMI archive that Obert-Thorn and
Dutton did not. Whatever the reasons, what I hear on the EMI Références
version, for me, more than approximates to the kind of sound I have
heard coming from other recordings made in this hall and so I will stick
with that. In spite of the profound differences outlined the Naxos and
the Dutton are closer to each other than they are to the EMI.
If you already have the EMI Références
version my advice is to stick with it. If, however, you want in addition
to it a slightly different sound perspective on the performance then
buy the Naxos with confidence. The price is right, after all. If, on
the other hand, you have no version of this recording in your collection
and now want one my advice is to buy the EMI Références
version if you are able to. I add that caveat because it has
been out for some time and you never know these days whether a recording
like this will disappear or be so hard to find that you give up. In
that case go for the Naxos. It will certainly be easier to find and
will be cheaper and you will have a version of this wonderful occasion
to last you a lifetime. Ideally try to sample the two if you can. These
matters are very subjective and it is possible you may disagree with
me. What I have tried to do is describe what I hear and separate that
from my opinion.
A fine new version of this legendary recording.
Tony Duggan
Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra/Bruno
Walter