This latest release in Naxos’s Great Conductors series 
          usefully and pertinently turns the spotlight on Victor de Sabata’s earliest 
          recordings – the small series of discs made for Italian Parlophon during 
          a three-day period in Turin in December 1933. Added to which is the 
          much better known Pastoral Symphony, recorded in Rome in 1947. 
          As Mark Obert-Thorn’s Producer’s Note explains de Sabata also recorded 
          the Act II Intermezzo from Wolf-Ferrari’s I Quattro rusteghi 
          at the earlier session, a performance never issued and now presumably 
          lost. Whilst he was subsequently to re-record it for HMV the other titles 
          here are discographically unique as far as he was concerned and this 
          is especially important in the case of de Sabata’s own Juventus. 
       
        
He had quite a lot to contend with in the recording 
          studio of the Turin broadcasting authority. A dead room acoustically 
          - and small - with a commensurately small body of strings, this is especially 
          noticeable in the Stravinsky, which suffers from a lack of body and 
          depth. Quite a novelty for the time Fireworks had already been 
          recorded by Kleiber in Berlin and by Gabriel Pierné conducting 
          the Colonne Orchestra. The Mossolov – or Mosolov – was certainly one 
          of the earliest recordings, if not the first, of this Futurist exercise 
          (Ehrlich recorded it with the Paris Symphony and, perhaps improbably 
          … perhaps not … Arthur Fiedler had a go with his Boston forces). De 
          Sabata has the measure of its driving implacability. Perhaps the most 
          delightfully played of the four surviving pieces from these early sessions 
          are the two movements drawn from the Glazunov symphonic suite From 
          the Middle Ages. I think Sevitzky and the Indianapolis Orchestra 
          had beaten de Sabata to the honour of pioneers here – especially as 
          they’d recorded the whole four-movement suite – but de Sabata brings 
          real expressive freedom to the Troubadour’s Song, lacing the 
          delicious music with succulence and opulent portamenti and in the ensuing 
          Scherzo catching the nasality and archaisms to perfection. A 
          pity the clinking percussion is so terribly over-recorded but that was 
          one of the liabilities of the Turin set-up. 
        
 
        
De Sabata’s own Juventus, something of a compositional 
          calling card for him as a younger man, is written up in the notes here 
          as a Korngold inspired affair. It’s true that the work was conducted 
          by Toscanini – de Sabata was later to conduct at the older man’s funeral 
          in 1957 – but, more relevantly, by Strauss, who must surely have benignly 
          recognized his own stamp on the work. If there is indeed a kinship with 
          Korngold it’s very heavily filtered through the explicitly Straussian 
          aesthetic. Gorgeous violins lead, Don Juan like, into the late Romantic 
          syntax warmed by lavish portamanti – turbulent, energetic and distinctly 
          central European. The main work here, though, is the 1947 Pastoral 
          recorded in Rome with the Santa Cecilia Academy Orchestra. This is certainly 
          nether hard bitten nor over languorously genteel. De Sabata steers a 
          judicious path between generosity of phrasing and architectural alignment. 
          The first movement is full of delightful inflections, the rise and flow 
          of the music relaxed but full of inner part detail and appropriate momentum. 
          In the Andante he is certainly not as leisurely as Stokowski, say, or 
          Beecham, instead finding a sense of almost improvisatory freedom warmed 
          by auburn strings and Elysian winds. The concluding allegretto has prodigious 
          layering of sound, with great clarity of sound but also great metrical 
          freedom. He encourages just the right weight of rhythmic impetus and 
          the arco and pizzicato momentum is conveyed with skill and panache. 
        
 
        
For so electrifying a conductor de Sabata’s legacy 
          is woefully small; there are few obvious signs here of the incendiary 
          medium he would routinely become when stepping onto the rostrum. For 
          all their imperfections these early, rather miscellaneous recordings 
          cast de Sabata in a somewhat unfamiliar embryonic light and are strongly 
          recommended. 
        
 
        
        
Jonathan Woolf