George
London was a noted Wagnerian in Bayreuth and elsewhere.
He was also a tremendous Scarpia in
Tosca (recorded
for Decca with Tebaldi and Del Monaco) but probably his
best role, anyway his dream role for many years, was
Boris Godunov. He first sang it in Vienna in 1950 to
great success.
Rudolf Bing attended the performance and engaged him
for the role at the Metropolitan the following year – the
first American to assume the role there. Ten years later
he was
the Tsar at the Bolshoi Theatre as the first ever non-Russian
singer. Two years later he recorded the role with the
Bolshoi under Alexander Melik-Pashaev, but before that
Columbia
made this highlights record in New York.
Conducted
by the versatile Thomas Schippers we are in for a vital
and incisive reading with impressive playing from the Columbia
Symphony Orchestra. There is no denying the enthusiasm
and force of the singing but other choruses have had a
more integrated body of sound. This is of secondary importance,
however, in a highlights disc. What counts is George London
in the title part but Howard Fried as the oily Shuisky
should be mentioned for a good effort, even though he makes
his character more human than he deserves. London presents
a many-sided portrait of the Tsar. He is noble in the first
monologue (tr. 3), singing with admirably steady tone.
I
have attained the highest power (tr. 5) is a high-strung
dramatic reading in the Chaliapin/Christoff mould. In
the Farewell and Death scene (tr. 10 – 11) his identification
is spine-chilling, ranging from wild shouts to stifled
whispers and his farewell to his son is filled with warmth
and sorrow. This is a reading that has been honed during
performances through a decade and it gives a rounded
picture of the Tsar even in this truncated form. I was
greatly
moved after his death and would have liked a longer silence
before the next piece of music, the
Promenade from
Pictures
at an Exhibition started. As it was the Philadelphia
trumpets came as a slap in the face.
Once
I had mentally changed over to the colourful kaleidoscopic
panorama over Hartmann’s artistic world I was wholly
captured. The reason was twofold: firstly it is always
an adventure
to return to the music as such, whether in Mussorgsky’s
original drawing (piano = black and white) or Ravel’s
painting (water-colours = shimmering like the rainbow);
secondly
this must be one of the best readings preserved on records. “The
French watchmaker” is a soubriquet sometimes applied
to Ravel, implying the superb technical proficiency but
also
a certain chilly distance. With Ormandy at the helm in
music he clearly relishes, the whole work unfolds as
a declaration of love to Hartmann. Precision – yes; listen
to
Tuileries (tr. 17) or
Ballet des petits
poussins dans leurs coques (tr. 20).
Bydlo (tr.
18), the Ox-cart with its enormous wheels is almost visible
through the crescendo-diminuendo conveying the impression
of a Doppler-effect. And the melancholy feeling of
Il
vecchio castello (tr. 15), ‘The Old Castle’, is no
mere technique. This is warm music. There are of course
powerful sections in this music – the final ‘Great Gate
of Kiev’ especially well-known – but much of it is painted
in light transparent colours. Hartmann mostly expressed
himself in water-colours and Ravel has ingenuously striven
for the same kind of translucency. Ormandy, a master
of orchestral balance, makes Ravel’s colours shine warmer
than ever, not least through the woodwind playing, precise
but
con amore. Concerning the Great Gate it was
only a design and never erected, so Ravel probably painted
it as it might have been. Comparisons are unnecessary.
Theodore Kuchar’s fairly recent effort on Naxos is a
splendid achievement (see
review) and has tremendous
power and colour but the
greater refinement of Ormandy and the Philadelphians
now relegates it to second best.
The
sound is clean and full with a wide stereo-image, as was
the norm in some camps in the 1960s. Listening through
headphones one almost felt trapped in the middle of the
orchestra, but it was undoubtedly thrilling. Through the
ordinary speakers I got a well-integrated sound with lots
of tiny details audible without being especially highlighted.
The
Boris excerpts although five years older also
sound fine though marginally less sophisticated.
The
booklet has an article by George London himself, reprinted
from the liner notes for the Bolshoi recording of
Boris. There
is also some short background on
Pictures and a
step-by-step guide to the walk through the memorial exhibition.
At
mid-price this is a find: a truly great version of
Pictures and
one of the great Borises at the height of his powers. Not
to be missed.
Göran Forsling
George London (bass) – Boris
Godunov; Mildred Allen (mezzo-soprano) – Fyodor, his son;
Howard Fried (tenor) – Prince Vasily Ivanovich Shuisky;
Stanley Kolk (tenor) – Boyal Khrushchyov 
