AVAILABILITY 
                www.tahra.com 
              
Tahra continues its 
                increasingly comprehensive Furtwängler 
                series with this 4 CD set of well-known 
                performances, from diverse sources, 
                given with his "other" orchestra, 
                the Vienna Philharmonic. He had conducted 
                the orchestra since 1922 but it was 
                only with Weingartner’s resignation 
                five years later that he had the chance 
                to succeed to the position of Principal 
                Conductor - a by no means easy step 
                given some players’ opposition. The 
                recordings come from a seven-year period 
                between 1944 and 1951 and divide fairly 
                evenly between commercial HMV discs 
                and radio broadcast survivals. All have 
                been issued before over the years and 
                a number in multiple editions but Tahra’s 
                remastering is of a high standard and 
                this makes for a convenient Vienna box 
                for the conductor’s many admirers. 
              
 
              
The Bruckner Eight 
                of 1944 is one of at least four performances 
                to have survived and is generally reckoned 
                to be his most powerfully engaged and 
                rugged. He did return to it in Vienna, 
                commercially, a decade later (in the 
                last year of his life) and dispensed 
                with the modified Haas version he had 
                habitually used and substituted the 
                Schalk edition instead. But this off-air 
                wartime recording, in memorably immediate 
                sound, has a blazing authority, command 
                and control of line that certainly stands 
                comparison (and more) with the conductor’s 
                older, slightly mellower (if still spiritually 
                energised) self. The Adagio is the coagulatory 
                heartbeat of the reading, immense and 
                tragic, unerringly and comprehensively 
                well directed. The second disc is a 
                mixed bag of commercial recordings. 
                The Mendelssohn lacks the spring and 
                drama of, say, Beecham, and if Eine 
                Kleine Nachtmusik is hardly essential 
                Furtwängler fare it’s still notable 
                for the romanticised gestures in the 
                Romanze second movement, a locus classicus 
                of the conductor’s visionary style in 
                compressed classical form. There’s a 
                really splendid Emperor Waltz – to rival 
                Clemens Krauss, this; why didn’t Furtwängler 
                conduct more Johann Strauss? – and the 
                second disc ends with the HMV Beethoven’s 
                Fourth Symphony from January 1950. More 
                performances of this symphony have survived 
                from the Vienna Philharmonic than Berlin 
                (three to one, if you’re counting). 
                As with a number of the 1950 commercial 
                discs the recorded sound is a bit on 
                the ascetic side with a corresponding 
                lack of bloom – not clinical exactly, 
                certainly not Studio 8H, but just too 
                cold for ideal listening. Still, this 
                is a fine reading, quite classical, 
                not overtly interventionist, with a 
                superbly sculpted slow movement as its 
                high point, along with one or two peculiarities 
                of phrasing in the finale. 
              
 
              
His two commercial 
                recordings of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony 
                were made a few years apart - this Vienna 
                one from 1950 and the Berlin recording 
                of 1953. A wartime performance from 
                1943 (Berlin) has survived as has the 
                1948 Stockholm and a 1954 Vienna Philharmonic 
                (live, taped in Salzburg). Tahra has 
                retained shellac surface noise but there 
                is real immediacy and presence of sound 
                in their transfer. There is exceptional 
                delicacy and finesse in the Allegretto, 
                which inclines rather more to an Andante 
                in his hands, but its sense of sculptural 
                significance is palpable and intensely 
                moving. And the finale is dramatic and 
                powerfully cast, a crusading drive animating 
                its proportions. Hysterical applause 
                (lengthy; I rather wish Tahra had cut 
                it) greets the performance of Leonore 
                III (Salzburg, August 1950). The off-air 
                tape preserves the performance in rather 
                brash sound – nothing subtle about it 
                at all. The commercial Vltava (or Die 
                Moldau) is too concerned with airy legato 
                to make much impression; from the very 
                slow flutes in the opening paragraphs 
                to the stentorian Wagnerianisms later 
                on and the flippant triangle at the 
                conclusion, and despite some glorious 
                aquatic colouration, this is strictly 
                for admirers only. 
              
 
              
His Haydn Symphony 
                No.88 is one of a very few performances 
                of this composer’s works to have survived 
                in Furtwängler’s discography (I 
                believe, in addition to this, only Symphonies 
                94 and 104 are extant). I have to say 
                this Stuttgart performance is less impressive 
                than the Berlin studio recording for 
                Deutsche Grammophon and it doesn’t reveal 
                Furtwängler as an especially communicative 
                or openhearted classicist (the Minuet 
                is heavy, listless and devoid of humour). 
                There’s a good Coriolan from 1951 and 
                to end this fourth disc, and the set, 
                Schumann’s First from the same concert, 
                given in Munich in October 1951. This 
                receives a weighty, explicitly romanticised 
                performance, with a huge sense of power 
                and a blazing statement of the brass 
                chorale in the first movement. He slows 
                down the Scherzo appreciably – probably 
                in the interests of binding the rhetoric 
                tighter - though not all will appreciate 
                his highly personalised limiting of 
                Schumann’s emotive extremes. Still, 
                parts of the performance are simply 
                breathtaking even if the totality of 
                it will leave others more cautious in 
                appraisal. 
              
 
              
Notes are in French 
                and English and trace the conductor’s 
                long relationship with the Vienna Philharmonic 
                in some detail. As a conspectus it achieves 
                its objectives with conspicuous success. 
              
 
              
Jonathan Woolf