It came as something
of a shock to realise that the final
sessions for what is now apparently
regarded as an historical recording
of Humperdinck’s opera took place on
my first birthday! In what is probably
a vain attempt to hold the years at
bay may I be allowed to refer to this
EMI recording as a classic recording
and avoid the use of "historical"?
My colleagues Ian
Lace and Colin Clarke, Colin
Clarke and Jonathan
Woolf have already warmly welcomed
this Naxos release. As Colin points
out, the Naxos issue lacks the libretto
and translation that EMI provides in
their Great Recordings of the Century
version of the same recording but the
Naxos version is cheaper and includes
the valuable appendix of some earlier
recorded extracts.
I was intrigued to
learn from Malcolm Walker’s valuable
liner note that prior to this recording
Karajan had never conducted this score.
You certainly would not know that from
the way he casts a spell over the proceedings.
Or perhaps you would, for the mastery
here is combined with freshness. There
is no sense of a conductor taking into
the studio a piece with which he is
so familiar that it has grown stale
in any way. From the very start of the
overture you sense that this performance
is going to be something special. The
orchestral sound glows, starting with
the burnished tone of the horns. The
strings are rich and the woodwind playing
is characterful and beautiful. The overture
really is a microcosm of all the orchestral
delights that await us in the rest of
this account of the opera. As Malcolm
Walker aptly puts it "from the
opening bars to the conclusion, [Karajan]
and the Philharmonia orchestra constantly
ravish the ear with finely balanced
orchestral playing."
Some might aver that
Elisabeth Schwarzkopf is too mature
and sophisticated a singer to sound
convincing as a child. There are moments
when I feel she comes close to crossing
this line but these are few and far
between and for me her gorgeous tone
and clear diction are the key attributes
upon which to focus. At the start of
the celebrated dance with Hänsel
in Act I, scene 1 (CD 1, track 3) she
imparts an irresistible perkiness to
the rhythms without ever sacrificing
vocal purity or a sense of line. Great
admirer of hers that I am, I must admit
that she did come to sound a bit too
calculated and ‘knowing’ at times later
in her career but such is not the case
here.
The engaging Elisabeth
Grümmer is the perfect foil and
partner for Schwarzkopf. She too sings
with wondrous ease. Like her colleague
she also displays a consummate understanding
of the text as well as of the music
that must have delighted that arch-perfectionist,
Walter Legge who had chosen her for
the role, I believe.
Maria von Ilosvay is
a splendid choice as the Mother. At
her first appearance (CD 1, track 4)
there’s real pathos and sadness in her
voice but it’s never overdone. As her
husband, Josef Metternich engages our
attention from his very first phrase.
He conjures up an aural picture of rustic
sturdiness but his splendidly full tone
is entirely devoid of caricature. Throughout
Act I, scene 3, he and von Ilosvay make
a marvellous, characterful pairing.
Moving forward to Act
II, scene 1 we encounter the next principal
singer. Amy Felbermayer is a seraphic,
reassuring Sandman. She sings beautifully
over a hushed, rapt accompaniment. It
is at this point, and throughout this
scene, that what has hitherto been a
wonderful performance attains a miraculous,
exalted level. The Evening Prayer is
truly moving. The listener is conscious
only of a spellbinding simplicity but
what consummate technique was required
from Grümmer, Schwarzkopf, Karajan
and the orchestral players to obtain
and sustain such gossamer lightness.
The Dream Pantomime, which follows is,
as Colin Clarke says, "simply magnificent".
Has there ever been an orchestra to
match the 1950s Philharmonia when it
was playing like this? I don’t honestly
believe that, for all his famed insistence
on super refinement in his later years,
Karajan could ever have surpassed his
achievement in eliciting playing of
such sensitivity and refinement from
an orchestra, not even when his partnership
with the Berlin Philharmonic was at
its zenith. Incidentally, though the
Naxos transfer is excellent, the recording
actually overloaded slightly at this
point on the equipment (not my own)
that I used to hear these discs, so
fabulously rich is the string bass foundation.
That’s emphatically not a criticism
of either the original HMV engineers
or of Mark Obert-Thorn, who made this
transfer.
There’s another delightful
cameo from Amy Felbermayer, this time
as the Dew Fairy, in Act III, scene
1. In scene 3 we encounter the Witch
of Else Schürhoff. She’s marvellously
insinuating and insidious, sinister
cackles and all. The whole scene with
the children is splendidly done and
Schürhoff’s casting of the spell
is the epitome of nastiness. She’s just
sufficiently over the top in the role
without ever descending to caricature.
There’s exultation in the Witch Waltz,
the Philharmonia playing with the same
panache that they were to bring some
three years later to the celebrated
recording of Der Rosenkavalier
with Karajan. The very end of the opera
is a radiant, happy affair, as Colin
Clarke says it’s "gentle and full
of human warmth".
There’s a timeless
magic to this opera and to this recording,
which is a true classic of the gramophone.
The recording is now just over fifty
years old but I see no reason why music
lovers should still not be enjoying
it and, indeed, marvelling at it fifty
years hence. This is an indispensable
benchmark recording, a real testament
to the skills of all the musicians involved
and to that discriminating musical Svengali,
Walter Legge.
The second CD also
contains some twenty minutes or so of
very interesting historical snippets
from the earlier recorded history of
the work. I’m afraid I can’t quite share
my colleagues’ enthusiasm for Conchita
Supervia on this occasion. To my ears
(and I’m sure I’m in a minority here,
possibly a minority of one) I find the
voice, as recorded here, has too harsh
an edge. Also, hearing the words sung
in Italian is a distinctly odd experience.
In his excerpt Gerhard Hüsch produces
his voice with a lovely even, round
tone, as was his wont. It’s a wonderful
sound but I agree with Colin Clarke
that Metternich fills out the character
more convincingly. However, the excerpts
featuring Elisabeth Schumann are in
an entirely different league. She’s
utterly beguiling, whistling and all,
in ‘Ein Männlein steht im Walde’
(CD 2, track 16). The Evening Prayer,
in which she duets with herself, is
just lovely, even if she doesn’t attempt
the withdrawn innigkeit achieved
by Grümmer and Schwarzkopf. Even
so, Schumann compels our attention through
the sheer unaffected loveliness of her
artistry.
Mark Obert-Thorn has
done a superb job in transferring the
recordings. The complete opera sounds
as if it were made if not yesterday
then only a few years ago. The sound
is lovely, clear and atmospheric. I’m
sure, however, that Mr Obert-Thorn would
be the first to share the credit for
this not only with the original HMV
engineers but also with the unsung hero
of this recording, London’s Kingsway
Hall. The earlier recordings have also
come up extremely well. There is a very
good introductory note by Malcolm Walker
and though there’s no libretto there’s
a clear and helpful track-by-track synopsis
by Keith Anderson.
This is an unmissable
bargain, which I cannot recommend highly
enough.
John Quinn
Philharmonia Orchestra/Herbert von Karajan
