Beethoven’s Missa
Solemnis, was originally intended
to be performed at the installation
of his friend and patron Rudolph, Archduke
of Austria, as Archbishop of Olmütz
in Moravia. It is a work grand in scale
and at many points, simply over the
top. In my opinion, it is a piece that
we have been stuck with hearing and
performing simply because it is a large
work by a major composer. In reality,
it is fraught with problems, and many
of the performances that I have come
across are merely shouting matches between
a chorus that is consistently asked
to sing too high and loud for too long,
and an orchestra that is at the very
least, overblown. Having said all that,
we are still left to contend with the
piece, as it has made its way into the
canon, if only on the fringes.
Guild have presented
a very well assembled and attractively
presented recording of the 1940 live
broadcast of the Missa, which
Arturo Toscanini conducted as a benefit
for the National Conference of Christians
and Jews. There are a number of positives
that make this recording worth owning,
if only as a historical document. That
the recording even exists is thanks
in great part to the work of the late
Robert Hupka, who was employed by RCA
during the NBC Symphony years, and is
as famous today for the nearly one thousand
photographs that he surreptitiously
took of Toscanini, as he is for being
a valiant crusader for the careful preservation
of the Toscanini broadcast archives.
It is to his memory that this set is
dedicated.
The performance is
complete with the original announcer’s
comments at the beginning of the program,
and one gets a delightful sense of nostalgia
for an era of cultural awareness and
appreciation that has long since disappeared
from the American mindset. In spite,
however, of the historical significance
of this broadcast, we are still faced
with a number of problems that I would
be remiss not to mention.
First, let us deal
with the primitive sound of the recordings
themselves. Although it is obvious that
every possible care has been taken to
preserve and enhance these aging masters,
there are many lengthy passages, particularly
the busy contrapuntal sections in the
Gloria and Credo that
are simply a blur of nearly indistinguishable
notes and words. Historic or not, these
passages are nearly unlistenable and
severely detract from whatever enjoyment
one may derive from this performance.
The lack of balance between choir and
orchestra, and even between the sections
of the orchestra itself is also problematic.
There is no shortage of episodes where
the brass simply blare away and the
strings and winds are left in the dust.
Furthermore, despite the sublime singing
of Jussi Bjoerling and Alexander Kipnis,
we are still left with Zinka Milanov,
who could never muster more than an
ounce of subtlety. She bellows and swoops
her way through the score with no sensitivity
to the text to be found. Mezzo Bruna
Castagna fares better, but she is often
buried in the quartet.
The award for superior
performance must go to NBC symphony
concertmaster Mischa Mischakoff for
his stunningly beautiful rendition of
the lengthy aria for violin at the beginning
of the Benedictus. His simple
and unaffected playing is a welcome
relief to the posturing and shouting
to which we have been subjected for
more than an hour heretofore.
The Westminster Choir
under John Finley Williamson was considered
to be the state of the art in those
days, but his woofy, bellowing style
of choral singing has long since become
passé, and by the end of the
score, one starts to feel for the bleeding
throats of his singers.
The commercial recording
of the Violin Concerto fares considerably
better, both in sound quality and performance.
Although Jascha Heifetz has oft been
criticized for his technique-over-emotion
manner of playing, he quite rises to
the occasion in this engaging performance.
His steely perfection may be off-putting
to the romantics in the listening pool,
but he finds plenty of drama in the
extended opening movement, ample lyricism
in the cantabile inner movement and
the rollicking dance qualities of the
rondo simply spring to life under his
fingers. Orchestral balances are excellent,
in spite of Toscanini’s tendency to
push tempi into overdrive and to over-accent
and over-dramatize certain passages.
Guild’s booklet is
quite thorough, although a bit long
on sycophantic tributes to the maestro.
As I mentioned earlier, this disc is
presented in tribute to Robert Hupka,
and as such, we are subjected to his
essay concerning Toscanini and the Missa.
Hupka wears his heart on his sleeve
when he speaks of this music, and his
near idol worship of the conductor borders
on the nauseous. In his defense, he
does belong to the generation where
maestros were worshipped as minor deities
and the effusive language in his commentaries
belies this mindset. It is high time
though that we dispelled the myth of
the infallibility of such figures as
Toscanini and Furtwängler. Great
as they were, they were the products
of their time, and their aesthetic has
perhaps outlived its legend. We should
now be able to look back and evaluate
the work of these giants of the past
with a more realistic slant, shedding
the cult of personality that has for
so many years obscured some of the very
real flaws in both their character and
musicianship.
Perhaps the most interesting
and valuable asset of this set is its
portrayal of a time in American history
when works of art and high culture were
still valued by a more sizable portion
of the population. More importantly,
they were held in higher regard by the
broadcast media, and we had persons
like David Sarnoff to thank for placing
such performances before the public
in regular and prominent places.
Recommended with a
few caveats for either history buffs
or Toscanini fanatics.
Kevin Sutton
see also review
by Jonathan Woolf who finds
it more enjoyable.
Jascha Heifetz, violin