Temperamentally there could seem to be no two composers
so opposed as Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Louis-Hector Berlioz, or so
one might think. Yet it was W.J. Turner who made the cosmic connection
betwixt the two when he remarked that above all else they were the two
naturally intuitive composers. This is not to suggest their inspirations
had the same wellsprings, nor that their working methods were at all
similar (while both had the benefit of lightning inspiration, Berlioz
lacked Mozart’s facility in getting a finished work to paper and had
to work at it). Nor, of course, does it suggest any similarity of style,
save for that which both owed to Gluck. But in the sense that both appear
to have plucked invention and daring originality out of a Jungian collective
consciousness, both men clearly possessed a direct line to their respective
Muses.
It is this shared characteristic, perhaps beyond any
other, which must have attracted the great Lancashire-born baronet to
the music of Mozart and of Berlioz (and, perhaps, to that of Frederick
Delius as well; a further CD in this series is devoted to some of Sir
Thomas’s contemporaneous recordings of his old friend’s music, but the
present reviewer has never had a high tolerance for Delius, and so has
deferred that issue to anyone more sympathetic). For it must be recalled
that Beecham went very much against common practice, particularly in
the 1930s, in presenting a characterful and testosterone-driven Mozart,
free of mincing and preciosity. A similar strength of forward thrust
and propulsive melody informs his Berlioz. Of the three great Berlioz-proponents
of the first third of the 20th Century, Felix Weingartner
and Sir Hamilton Harty managed between them to leave only a few hours
of recordings of the Frenchman’s works. Sir Thomas, on the other hand,
lived as late as 1961 and left numerous recordings (as well as transcriptions
of live performances) of large works and small.
What we have here is a selection of the small, which
is not to say miniatures. Sir Thomas’ postwar creation of the Royal
Philharmonic Orchestra afforded him not merely the opportunity to once
again build a great orchestra from the ground up, and to have his pick
of favourite ‘first-chair’ men; the new contract with Columbia enabled
him to record his core repertoire again in high-fidelity sound. The
largest Berlioz work to benefit from this partnership was the viola
symphony Harold en italie, with Scottish violist William Primrose.
This was issued by Sony as MPK 47679, with a couple of the overtures
from this collection. By 1953 he had patched things up sufficiently
with the London Philharmonic Orchestra to make a stunning recording
of the Te Deum; this ought by rights to be next on Sony’s reissue
list.
The present issue is a selection of overtures and other
short concert works, which in many other composers’ catalogues might
be considered ‘lollipops’ (to use a Beechamesque term), but which in
Berlioz’ oeuvre are meaty, long-limned musical arguments. Indeed,
some of these are derived from operas, either as a by-work (‘Le carnaval
romain,’ with material from the 1837 theatrical failure Benvenuto
Cellini), an afterthought (the two Troyens offshoots, one
a prelude which essentially replaced the first two acts, the other a
concert tit-bit based on the march heard at dramatic points throughout
the opera), or simply one of the few surviving fragments (in the case
of Les francs-juges, disassembled and largely reused or discarded).
Sir Thomas’ way with Berlioz was always sinewy and
colourful, and these recordings are no exception. In particular this
reviewer enjoyed ‘Le carnaval romain,’ though the recording is a bit
shrill on top; but in the ‘festival’ sections, good transients save
the day (especially that tambourine!) The ‘Waverley’ is perhaps a little
dull and congested, but accumulates power to a rousing conclusion. The
mysterious ‘Francs-juges’ begins quite restrained and deliberate, if
not outright leisurely, to great effect later, namely a gain in nobility
(at the expense of superficial dash, which of course was not what Sir
Thomas was about). In all, a highly recommendable collection which aptly
shows how this estimable conductor richly personalized his Berlioz in
the studio. One would also not want to be without the two Beecham releases
available from BBC Legends, one of them (BBCL 4065-2) containing a moving
Harold en italie from 1956, with the jolly boys of the RPO once
again and violist Frederick Riddle, and live versions of ‘Corsair,’
‘Roi Lear,’ and the ‘Marche troyenne’; or the even more valuable document
(BBCL 4011-2), Sir Thomas’ 1959 performance of the Grande Messe des
morts at the Royal Albert Hall. Or perhaps the Harold with
Primrose will make a welcome reappearance, along with that magnificent
Te Deum.
The drama of the Requiem text is more introspectively
treated by Mozart (in the familiar Süssmayr edition, with some
interesting editorial alterations to be noted), and brings out a reading
that is romantic and round-edged, rather than propulsive. The soloists
are closely miked here, and a general aura of reserve surrounds the
whole recording. Perhaps the widely-separated recording sessions are
somewhat at fault here. The soloists, though not Mozartean superstars
of the age, are more than adequate. Nowakowski is basically earnest,
Young is at his plangent best, Sinclair is sincere, whilst Elsie Morison
(taking a turn out of the G&S roles she usually did, when not singing
the Mahler Symphony #4 with her husband, Rafael Kubelik!) is a most
gracious soprano soloist.
About those editorial changes – someone seems to have
taken a heavy editing pencil to Süssmayr. Most notably, in the
Tuba mirum, the trombone under the basso solo is quickly replaced
by a viola solo! The trombones return with a vengeance in the Rex tremendae,
however, and a slightly congested sound surrounds the entire affair.
The symphonies (No 31 sharing the disc with the Requiem,
Nos 35, 40 and 41 on their own) are somewhat less successful. For one
thing, much more stylish and elegant playing is to be found in Beecham’s
earlier Mozart symphony recordings, specifically the London Philharmonic
issues pre-war, and the Royal Philharmonic of the late 1940s. Opening
movements are not as fleet, minuets very stately (that of the ‘Haffner’
almost stodgy). The G minor in particular suffers from sound that is
mushy in the tuttis; nevertheless it has a propulsive first movement,
with those characterful wind solos (if a bit overly spotlit). But these
are only disappointments in comparison; Beecham aficionados will find
much to admire here. Recommended as a useful supplement to those earlier
recordings, many of them variously available from Dutton.
Matthew B. Tepper
Royal Philharmonic Orchestra/Sir
Thomas Beecham Recorded: 2, 3, 16, 17 December 1954, Walthamstow Town
Hall, London