This is another interesting
and important set from Andante. It showcases
the Vienna Philharmonic in live performances
led by three conductors who had significant
relationships with the orchestra in
the post-war era. Moreover, each conductor
is featured conducting major works by
composers with whose music they were
closely identified.
Strangely, Andante
don’t give any information about the
sources of the recordings of the Karajan
and Mitropoulos performances. The Böhm
recordings, however, are identified
as Austrian Radio productions. Are the
other recordings from private sources,
I wonder? Such an explanation might
account for the fact that the sound
quality on Böhm’s recordings is
the best by some distance.
Herbert von Karajan
made three studio recordings of Bruckner’s
Eighth. (For DG he set it down with
the Berlin Philharmonic in 1975 and
with the Vienna Philharmonic in 1988.)
The first of his three commercial recordings
was made for EMI with the BPO just three
weeks after the performance captured
here was given. Incidentally, there
is an even earlier recording in existence
though, tantalisingly, it is shorn of
the first movement. This is an amalgam
of two radio recordings made in Berlin
with the Preussische Staatskapelle in
June and September 1944. This recording,
in amazingly good sound (the finale
is in stereo), is or was available from
Koch Schwann and is a fascinating document.
Proving that conductors don’t always
slow down as they age Karajan took no
less than 71’05" just for the last three
movements!
By contrast, the complete
performance captured here may be his
swiftest recorded traversal at 80’18".
Initially I was puzzled by Andante’s
documentation, which states that the
Nowak edition of the score is used here.
However, I am indebted to my colleague,
Patrick Waller who has listened to this
performance in conjunction with his
copy of the score of Nowak’s edition
of Bruckner’s 1890 version of the symphony.
This appeared in 1955. Some years later
Nowak brought out an edition of the
original 1887 score, which is used by
Georg Tintner on his Naxos recording.
It would appear that Andante are incorrect
and that here Karajan uses the Robert
Haas edition here (and, presumably on
his Berlin EMI recording made shortly
thereafter though my LP copy gives no
information as to the edition used.).
I am told by Patrick
that the following differences that
substantiate the use here of the Haas
score; these affect only the adagio
and the finale. In the adagio the passage
between 17’13" and 17’54" in this performance
are in Haas but not Nowak (1890). Again,
in the finale there are two passages,
between 6’40" and 7’16" and again between
8’02" and 8’14" that appear in Haas
but not Nowak.
I’ve seen other reviews
of this set in which the reviewers have
expressed a definite preference for
the studio BPO recording, made just
three weeks later, over this VPO account.
I think that on balance I share that
view. Listening again to my LP set of
the Berlin account there’s no doubt
that the studio version, made under
the eagle-eyed aegis of Walter Legge,
is more polished where the live VPO
traversal almost inevitably has a few
minor fluffs and other blemishes. Also,
the EMI engineers were able to balance
the sound much more precisely in Berlin.
That said, it’s not all gain. In the
VPO performance, for instance, Karajan
draws out the first movement coda just
that little bit more, with much more
satisfying results, I think. Also, as
the performance progresses there’s something
of the sense of urgency and electricity
that it’s not so easy to recreate in
the recording studio.
This sense of extra
urgency may be apparent from a comparison
of the timings of each movement in Vienna
and Berlin (again, I’m grateful to Patrick
Waller for telling me the timings of
the 1957 EMI Berlin recording. The timings
are as follows:
| |
Vienna 1957 (Andante) |
Berlin 1957 (EMI) |
| Movement 1 |
15’30" |
17’05" |
| Movement 2 |
14’50" |
16’04" |
| Movement 3 |
25’22" |
27’31" |
| Movement 4 |
24’36" |
26’17" |
| Total |
80'18" |
86'57"
|
It’s fascinating to
find Karajan taking nearly seven minutes
longer under studio conditions just
a matter of weeks later!
This concert took place
around the time that von Karajan assumed
the direction of the Vienna Staatsoper.
In fact, in the fortnight or so before
the concert he inaugurated his régime
with productions of Die Walküre
and Verdi’s Otello. In his
magisterial biography of the conductor,
Herbert von Karajan. A Life in Music
(1998) Richard Osborne avers that around
this time the relationship between Karajan
and the VPO "seems to have been workmanlike
and productive, though occasionally
tinged with unease." Of course, Karajan
was no stranger to the VPO’s podium.
He had regularly conducted them in both
the concert hall and the opera house
for a good many years. However, solely
on the evidence of the Berlin and Vienna
Bruckner Eighths one might conclude
that at this time Karajan and the Berliners
were that much easier and more familiar
in each other’s musical company.
In this Vienna reading
the first two movements sound good to
me without being anything extra special.
Partly that may be due to the recorded
sound, which is perfectly serviceable
but doesn’t really open up as one would
wish in the sonorous climaxes. However,
the performance starts to take flight
in the great adagio. There’s a real
intensity to the playing of the strings
in the movement’s opening paragraphs
and, indeed, the strings (and the harp,
for that matter) really play beautifully
in this movement. The VPO horns are
pretty impressive too, ringing out majestically
at climaxes and offering some very sensitive
quiet playing also. Karajan’s reading
of this movement has nobility and dignity
and contains just the right leavening
of passion. The finale is taut and grand.
However, at least as recorded, the climaxes
sound somewhat strident.
In summary, this would
not be a reading or recording to prefer
to the subsequent Berlin effort. However,
it should not be dismissed, either.
It is a good performance and, in the
adagio at least, rather better than
good. Karajan devotees (and Bruckner
aficionados) will find it fascinating
to compare and contrast the different
results that the same conductor could
get from two different orchestras in
the space of three weeks.
Karl Böhm was
renowned for his affinity with the music
of Richard Strauss and left notable
recordings of many of the operas as
well as quite a few of the orchestral
works. Here we have him in two of Strauss’s
best known tone poems, each of which
shows his mastery of the Straussian
idiom. One point worth noting is that
both works here feature violin solos
(famously so in the case of Ein Heldenleben)
and on this occasion they were played
by Willi Boskovsky. He is balanced rather
closely but one readily forgives this
since his playing is so good. Böhm
shapes Tod und Verklärung expertly.
The hushed opening is most atmospheric
and all the instrumental solo work matches
Boskovsky’s for distinction. Later on
the turbulent allegro fairly erupts
(at 5’06"). The transfiguration theme
can sound banal in the wrong hands but
Böhm is expressive but tactful.
The last six minutes or so are noble
and dignified, with Böhm obtaining
some particularly eloquent playing from
the VPO.
His account of Ein
Heldenleben is equally satisfying
and it’s good to have this performance
available since I’ve been unable to
trace any other recordings of the work
by Böhm in the current British
catalogue. At the start there’s a splendid,
but not overblown, swagger to the Hero’s
theme. When the critics appear on the
scene (track 3 – all six sections of
the work are separately tracked) pungent
brass and wind playing leaves us in
no doubt of the waspish nature of these
particular critics. When Boskovsky begins
to portray the Hero’s companion (track
4) his very first entry is at the same
time sweet and commanding. This section
of the work is one that can easily sound
garrulous and outstay its welcome. That’s
not the case here for Boskovsky’s playing
is full of character (and very accurate)
and he invests every phrase with interest.
The Love Scene is gorgeous and erotic,
as it should be with a lovely wind-down,
all passion spent. It’s just a pity
that at this point the languorous clarinet
solo is rather swamped by the lower
strings.
There’s another unfortunate
issue of balance in the Battle Scene
where the side drum is far too dominant
(or is allowed so to be by the engineers,
I’m not sure who to blame.) The clangour
and hectic clamour of this section is
excitingly conveyed but, perhaps inevitably,
the sound as reported is somewhat congested
and you don’t get anything like the
detail of a studio recording. Furthermore
it sounds to me as if the radio engineers
have compressed the loudest passages.
Böhm is masterly in the twilight
glow of the Hero’s Deeds of Peace, laying
out Strauss’s tapestry of self-quotation
beautifully. The final section is especially
fine. At the point marked ‘Langsam’,
just before cue 102 in the score, the
violins dig into their glorious melody
with real passion, producing a wonderful,
golden tone (track 7, 3’30"). Then the
coda winds down beautifully, given added
lustre by the playing of Boskovsky and
the uncredited solo horn player. This
is a fine performance, one that is both
authoritative and understanding.
However, with all due
respect to Messrs. Karajan and Böhm
the performance that sets this collection
apart is the account of Mahler’s Ninth,
led by Dimitri Mitropoulos that occupies
disc 3. It’s important not to duck one
major issue. I read a review of this
set some time ago by Richard Osborne
in which he described the recorded sound
thus: "most of it (including the whole
of the Rondo Burleske) is pure
aural masochism." I wouldn’t quite go
that far but there is no denying that
the sound quality is pretty rough and
primitive. The brass blare aggressively
when playing at anything above mf
and the timpani boom horribly. Mr. Osborne
actually went so far as to say that
the sound on the legendary 1938 Bruno
Walter/VPO recording is "far superior".
Surely, I thought, that couldn’t be
right? However, a few comparison passages
show that, incredibly, the 1938 sound
is much better, at least in the
Dutton transfer in my collection. Intending
purchasers of this set should be warned
that there is a good deal of surface
noise and louder passages do distort.
And yet….. If you can
listen through the sonic limitations
the prize is great for you will experience
a performance that is quite extraordinary.
By this time Mitropoulos was mortally
ill after the second of his heart attacks
the previous year. Notwithstanding his
frailty, he came to Europe in the summer
of 1960 with a punishing schedule that
included a heaven-storming account of
Mahler’s Eighth at the Salzburg Festival
in August (available at one time on
the Living Stage label) followed by
a run of performances of La forza
del destino at the Vienna Staatsoper.
After that he led the VPO in two performances
of Mahler’s Ninth, of which this is
one. All that then remained was a solitary
Mahler Three in Cologne on 31 October
and the very next day he died in Milan,
rehearsing the same symphony, felled
by a massive coronary.
Is it fanciful to suggest
that this Mahler Ninth is the reading
of a man obsessed by his own mortality?
In one sense, yes, because Mitropoulos
had further engagements in his diary
and was clearly determined to carry
on as long as he could. On the other
hand, he was well aware of his declining
health and quite probably approached
each concert knowing that it might be
his last.
Certainly he conducts
the Ninth here like a man possessed.
I mustn’t give the impression that this
is an hysterical reading, shorn of lyricism,
for it is not. However, the coruscating
drama of Mahler’s score and its huge
emotional range is conveyed as in few
performances that I know. The reading
of the huge, complex, seething first
movement is quite staggering in its
intensity. Mitropoulos quite simply
grabs the listener by the throat and
never lets go. The VPO respond with
edge-of-the-seat playing. While there’s
raw power in the loud passages it’s
the sheer tension of the quieter music
that really grabs my attention. Mahler’s
emotions are laid bare here and the
conductor conveys a vision that is very
unsettling. It’s compelling listening.
The second movement
Ländler is suitably grotesque.
The demonic Rondo Burleske is
taken at a slightly deliberate tempo,
which I find works extremely well. It
may not be the fastest account of this
music that I’ve heard but at times it’s
the scariest. However, precisely because
of this the lyrical trumpet-led section
in D major is even more balm for the
soul than usual (even if a couple of
thunderous timpani rolls do rather disfigure
the music when they occur.)
Mitropoulos and his
players really dig deep in the concluding
adagio. Because so much of the
music is quiet the sonic problems are
not as pronounced here. This movement
is one of Mahler’s most profound utterances
and Mitropoulos conducts as if his very
life depends on it. The great climax
(track 4, 14’07") is heart rending but
it’s the long hushed passages that are
particularly unforgettable. The ending
is marvelously bittersweet and the intensity
of the playing of the VPO strings is
breathtaking. This is the only recording
in the set that is not followed by applause,
for which many thanks. Any applause
after such an experience would be a
grotesque intrusion.
There are many great
recordings of this symphony. One thinks
of Karajan’s live 1982 BPO reading (DG);
Bernstein live with the same orchestra
in 1979 (also DG); Bruno Walter’s aforementioned
1938 VPO reading; and Barbirolli’s recordings
(the justly famous 1964 BPO reading
for EMI and also a live one from 1962
with the New York Philharmonic in that
orchestra’s own-label Mahler cycle.)
This Mitropoulos vision of the score
(and I use the word "vision" advisedly)
is fit to rank beside these benchmark
versions, despite the very poor sound.
Interpretatively it’s not a version
for "everyday" for I think one could
only experience such a shattering reading
occasionally. However, it’s a performance
that every admirer of either the conductor
or the composer should hear if at all
possible. Unfortunately Andante seem
wedded to the concept of multi disc
sets. If ever there was a recording
that cries out for separate issue it
is this one.
This, then, is a most
important set and one which connoisseurs
of conducting will certainly wish to
hear. The Karajan performance is interesting
to hear even if, in the last analysis,
it doesn’t add greatly to our knowledge
of him (especially given that a studio
reading was set down almost contemporaneously.)
The Böhm performances are extremely
distinguished and add to that conductor’s
currently available discography. The
Mitropoulos is simply unique.
The set comes with
the usual lavish, illustrated documentation
in English, French and German. It’s
not a cheap set and one wonders if by
editing out most of the applause for
the Karajan performance it could have
been accommodated on three CDs. However,
if one views it as an investment it’s
pretty gilt-edged.
John Quinn
Vienna Philharmonic/*Herbert von Karajan; **Dimitri
Mitropoulos; ***Karl Böhm 