Firstly, the ‘insertion’, which might
be puzzling some readers. Richard Caniell, who as so often has
contributed informed and eminently readable accompanying notes
for this series, refers to the ‘toneless, wobbly, strained
singing of Emanuel List as King Marke’ (booklet, p. 11).
So, in a nod towards fantasy football, cue Kipnis in 1941 appearing
from thin air. Actually, as the comments below indicate, it all
works supremely well (although hearing the original List would
seal the matter and maybe justify the interventionist approach,
but that comparison was not available).
There appears to be some doubt in Guild’s
mind about the actual date of the main body of this Tristan. The
front of the box claims March 13th, 1940, as do the recording
dates; the back of the box claims March 23rd. A slip of the finger,
probably, as the on-line Leinsdorf discography confirms the 23rd,
rightly listing the Music & Arts set as its only (then) incarnation
(M&A CD647, which Caniell compares unfavourably to his own
transfer in the ‘Recording Notes’ section of the booklet).
The web-site also lists the February 8th casting (that complete
performance is available on both Gebhardt and Melodram).
As the broadcast commentary confirms, this is
a sold-out, non-subscription post-season performance given for
the benefit of the Met’s ‘One Million Dollar Fund’.
All artists donated their services.
Erich Leinsdorf’s Wagner can be of the
steam-train variety, so it is a relief to report that what we
generally get here instead is a flowing account of Wagner’s
magnificent score that fits snugly onto three discs, complete
with broadcast commentaries (a nice sense of occasion) and a brief
‘intermission program’ (sic) comprising Mrs August
Belmont (‘a sincere and good friend of the Metropolitan
Opera’) briefly opining away on the concept of beauty in
music.
The Prelude sets not only the musical scene,
but the acoustic one as well. The warmth of the Met strings comes
across nicely (unfortunately there is some background flutter
- it sounds a bit like a piece of paper caught in a fan, if you
can imagine) and the climax threatens to distort, whilst avoiding
that at the last moment. Linear clarity is clearly important to
Leinsdorf, and indeed the Leitmotivic mesh of Tristan is vividly
conveyed throughout the performance.
The surface noise alluded to above is unfortunately
present all through the sailor’s rather wobbly song. It
is almost worth it to hear the immediacy of the strings at their
re-entry though, as we are shoved back into ‘real time’,
and onto the deck of the ship in the company of Isolde (Kirsten
Flagstad, no less). Flagstad is fairly regal from the start, Leinsdorf
producing real electricity from the orchestra pit. Rarely have
the orchestral surgings sounded so stormy, although he does almost
get carried away (Flagstad to her credit seems to have no problems
keeping up). Isolde’s relating of Tristan’s look (‘Er
sah mir in die Augen’) is magnificent, and she seems at
her very best at the shaded statement of ‘Mir erkoren …’.
Neither is she above a bit of well-timed hysteria (‘Tod
uns beiden’ is shrieked out, as befits the emotion of the
live moment, against massive heaves from the orchestra). Leinsdorf
is a positive power-house in the ‘Tantris’ section,
the harmonies bristling with energy.
Her companion Brangäne is Kerstin Thorborg,
who after a low-powered start acts as an acceptable foil for Isolde’s
confused and powerful emotions. Thorborg’s interpretation
does carry real involvement (one believes her angst at ‘Wehe,
ach wehe! Dies zu dulden!’). A shame that for her Warning
in Act 2 (CD2 Track 8) she is so recessed (there should be an
element of this, certainly, but here the orchestra is very much
uppermost and any feeling of magic is effectively lost).
Julius Huehn is Kurwenal, providing another under-powered
start, but moving into the role (his ‘Hab acht, Tristan’
is very weak half-hearted). Perhaps it is his stage placement,
as later in the act, at ‘Heil, Tristan, glücklicher
Held!’, he is really almost out of earshot.
Act Two is the act that stands to lose the most
from Leinsdorf’s approach - no-one wants a fast-forwarded
Nacht der Liebe!. The first surprise comes in the rapidly-repeated
wind chords, which here sound rather awkward, as if posing too
great a technical challenge for the Met’s wind section (CD2,
Track 3, 0’11ff). It effectively scuppers the elusive, shifting
and restless atmosphere here, a situation rescued (but only just)
by the emotionally effusive strings. A sense of theatrical drama
is made clear by the superbly placed off-stage horns. Brangäne
begins well, with a contralto-ish side to her voice that suits
the prevailing mood well. Here she comes across as a strong personality,
emphatically not second-best to Flagstad.
Character entrances seem to be a problem in this
performance, for Tristan’s entry is barely audible. Leinsdorf’s
super-fast tempo hardly helps, and both Melchior and Flagstad
are forced to gasp and snatch at the ensuing exchanges (they should
be breathless, certainly, but in another sense). Yet, in one of
the great moments of this Tristan, Leinsdorf prepares the famous
‘O sink hernieder’ passage perfectly, the orchestra
a model of gentle whisperings. Melchior and Flagstad maintain
the mood. Alas Leinsdorf decides to push on at Tristan’s
‘So stürben wir’.
And so to the insertion. It is justified by the
magnificence of Kipnis. His voice stands in high contrast to George
Cehanovsky’s rather weak Melot. Right from the first line
(‘Tatest du wirklich’) one is aware of the presence
of a truly great artist. Kipnis’s voice is timbrally dark
but, more importantly, his portrayal of grief and disappointment
is heart-wrenching. ‘Dies, Trstan, mir’ is almost
heightened speech, and all credit to Caniell’s technical
excellence that Tristan’s re-entry (‘O König,
das kann ich dir nicht sagen’) is seamlessly managed. That
said, if this reviewer is to return to any point on this set as
an excerpt (and thereby commit Wagnerian sacrilege!), Marke’s
track (CD2, Track 10) will be it. You just don’t hear Wagner
singing like this, anywhere, any more.
It is around this point that Melchior really
comes into his own, and with that realisation comes a real frisson
as to what Act 3 will bring. Listen to his voicing of the question,
‘Wohin nun Tristan scheidet, willst du, Isold’, ihm
folgen?’.
One of the most crushing Wagnerian experiences
is Jon Vickers’ Act 3 Tristan on the Hardy Classic DVD HCD4009
(review).
The conductor on that occasion, Karl Böhm, was similarly
in tune with the Wagnerian flow of grief, sickness and hysteria.
Leinsdorf, rather than portraying the desolation
inherent in the Act 3 Prelude, prefers to concentrate on the lyricism
of the ongoing drama as a whole, rather than the solitary Tristan
in particular. The cor anglais emerges seamlessly from the orchestra,
effectively taking a (melodic) line for a walk (the same instrument’s
answer to Tristan’s question, ‘Kurwenal, siehst du
das Schiff?’ is a remarkable stroke of dramatic genius,
and is achieves full potency here).
Interesting that Leinsdorf’s lyrical flow
does not sound superficial; neither does it do the depth of the
music justice. Rather it tends to sit somewhere in between the
two, nearing one or the other at various times - be warned that
such interpretative inconsistency can be rather unsettling.
Karl Laufkoetter is a light Shepherd. This is
good precisely because it emphasises the depth accorded to Huehn’s
(Kurwenal’s) heavy comments. Here, Huehn really does sound
like a true friend, acting with immense dignity and caring.
Whether Melchior lives up to the promises his
voice made towards the end of the Second Act is debatable. He
begins to sound tired and strained (CD3, Track 5). But the main
problem of this act is that Kurwenal gets drowned by the orchestra
so frequently.
When Isolde finally arrives, she is remarkably
touching (even if she does slide up to her final ‘Geliebter!’).
Of course Flagstad’s ‘Verklärung’ (‘Mild
und leise …’) is eagerly awaited, and how magically
Leinsdorf begins it, a true ppp if ever there was one. What a
pity, then, that the trombones spread their first chord, and tongue
it too hard (for reasons of security of attack, presumably). The
orchestral texture glows from within here. So why then is the
climax so under-powered?. The three repeated brass chords sound
routine and there is a final monstrosity - the applause begins
before the final chord has even ended!.
There is little doubt that this set does demand
to be heard, and the Kipnis insertion does seem to be a real success.
Alas Leinsdorf’s performance begs so many questions that
it could never approach a library recommendation.
Fascinating that this is the first Tristan to
come my way since the brand new Thielemann DG 474 974-2. Whatever
comments one can make on Leinsdorf and his crew, in terms of proximity
to the core of Wagnerian inspiration it would appear they still
eclipse modern interpretation.
Colin Clarke
A note from Guild recordings
Warmest thanks for your interesting
review. I write only to point out something
really significant as to Melchior's
extraordinary artistic capacity as an
actor. You rightly describe his singing
during a portion of Act III as "tired
and strained". However you
will find these identical portions in
which Melchior sounds hoarse, tired,
strained and exhausted, in the broadcasts
of 1933, 1935, 1936, two in 1937, two
in1938, 1939, 1940 and so on and also
in the Columbia 78s of Act III with
Melchior in Teatro Colón. A High
Fidelity magazine critic complained
of Melchior's vocal state in that recording.
Yet in every Act III, Melchior always
revived, his voice glorious, ringing
and free on sighting the ship and particularly
after Isolde's call (Zu ihr! Zu ihr!)
This astonishing recovery is as much a part of his characterization
as how he sings the passages when it
sounds as if there's nothing left to
him but vocal tatters and collapse,
eloquently evoking a vocal portrait
of the wounded Tristan's distress, sickness
and delirium.
One critic who recognized this as part
of Melchior's acting was Conrad Osborne
in his very lengthy review of the 1941
Tristan (which the Met released) that
appeared in High fidelity magazine.
He wrote:
"In the third act Melchior adds
an accomplishment of another sort: the
complete realization of a character's
emotional and physical condition through
the mental and musical text. Here his
work may be compared with that of a
Chaliapin or a Muzio, except that Melchior's
is achieved in a context infinitely
more demanding. The opening pages of
the delirium scene he renders in a dull,
utterly exhausted tone that, for once,
we recognize as the artist's choice
rather than that of the tenor's vocal
condition. He sinks back into this in
subsequent moments of Tristan's weakness,
sometimes letting the vibrato and resonance
turn dead in a fashion that would alarm
us in any other singer. But at each
of Tristan's fevered rebounds, he is
back with his most ringing, passionate
full voice, reaching joyous climaxes at such points
as Isolde kommt, Isolde naht! Quite
terrible ones in places like Verflucht
sei dieser Trank and still able to begin
the final challenge O diese Sonne with
fresh spinning tone and cap it with
brilliant A-natural Zu ihr! Zu
ihr!"
Of course, those who have not heard
Melchior's conception of Tristan ravaged
and hallucinating, and then marvelously
recovering his strength, in a succession
of broadcasts, would rightly confuse
his artistic choice with the actual,
personal state of his voice. I
read your viewpoint as evidence of how
convincing Melchior has been in these
very passages, reminding me that this
effect goes as far back as broadcasts
recorded his achievement.
On another subject, you say you may
be committing a Wagnerian sacrilege
when you find yourself repeatedly inclined
to return to Marke's Narrative (Kipnis)
CD-2, Track 10 as the excerpt you presently
most want to hear. Such was my own experience
after I brought in Kipnis. Previously
Marke's lengthy narrative sung by List
seems endless and dispiriting, given
List's toneless, dry, wobbly voice,
but Kipnis! As you write, "You
don't hear Wagner singing like this,
anywhere, any more." How true!
It was only after weeks that I could
return to other portions of the broadcast,
but for some time Kipnis eclipsed everything.
The great basso was not well served
by the 1941 broadcast, from which this
portion was taken, as Flagstad was not
in good voice and the performance lacked the electricity and
impact of 1940. Having his unforgettable
Marke interwoven into the 1940 broadcast
reveals
Wagner was not mistaken to give us King
Marke's lengthy Narrative - not only
as a much needed rest from the ecstasy
of what preceded it, and also providing
a necessary bridge to Tristan's sad
and resigned decision for death, but,
as Kipnis illuminates, this passage
is, itself, beautiful, noble and haunting.
Thanks for all,
Richard Caniell
Archivist
Lauritz
Melchior (tenor) Tristan; Kirsten Flagstad (soprano) Isolde; Kerstin Thorborg
(contralto) Brangaene; Julius Huehn (baritone) Kurwenal; Alexander Kipnis
(bass); George Cehanovsky (baritone) Melot; Anthony Marlowe (tenor) Sailor’s
Voice; Douglas Beattie (baritone) Steersman; Karl Laufkoetter (tenor) Shepherd;
Chorus and Orchestra of the Metropolitan Opera House, New York/Erich Leinsdorf.