There have been Stokowski-Philadelphia 
                rarity discs before – one remembers 
                the Stokowski Society disc of the same 
                name, largely replicated on Cala – but 
                Music & Arts here gives us a four-disc 
                box. I’d rate it a very useful mopping-up 
                exercise for the Stokowski Completist 
                and if that sounds like damning with 
                specialist taste it’s not supposed to. 
                It’s more a reflection of the fact that 
                many of these performances were multiply 
                recorded over the years by Stokowski, 
                sometimes with the Philadelphia, sometimes 
                not. And whereas in that other Cala 
                disc we could listen to real reportorial 
                rarity – Arcady Dubensky, Harl McDonald, 
                Hidemaro Konoye’s Japanese arrangement, 
                Henry Eichheim’s Symphonic Variations 
                and the like - here the rep is pretty 
                much standard. There’s the Franck Symphony 
                and Beethoven’s Fifth and Brahms’ Fourth, 
                all of which are known quantities – 
                except of course for the fact that these 
                and everything else in this set is making 
                its CD premiere. 
              
 
              
Vivaldi is heard in 
                a big-boned and muscular performance 
                tinged with Technicolor but much more 
                impressive is the sensitive Lully which 
                makes a fine analogue to Beecham’s more 
                elfin and luxuriant moments in his Handel 
                "Ballet" reclamations. There’s 
                a similar sense of refinement and string 
                magic and a delicious sense of perfectly 
                calibrated warmth. His Byrd is sumptuously 
                melancholic, the Handel Chandos Anthem 
                overture has a touch more surface noise 
                than most in this disc, and the Water 
                Music Suite a pleasure to have though 
                no improvement over the Harty, either 
                in orchestration or in performance. 
              
 
              
The Bach items have 
                thus far escaped the CD reissue net 
                so it’s welcome haul to have them collated 
                here, no matter that you will doubtless 
                know them from other, probably more 
                recent, recordings. The St John Passion 
                extract has superb string burnish and 
                portamento and gallant winds and Ein 
                feste Burg, as ever with Stokowski, 
                embodies inimitable and overwhelming 
                grandeur. A note at this point; tracks 
                two and three have been mixed up. There’s 
                salon-ish brace of souped up quartet 
                movements – Boccherini and Haydn – though 
                the latter just about makes it by virtue 
                of some rather outsize dynamic shading. 
                The second disc concludes with Beethoven’s 
                Fifth, a poor performance. Rugged and 
                emphatic it has a rhetorical flourish 
                unmatched by any defining sense of direction. 
                Things are needlessly exaggerated. 
              
 
              
Much more to my liking 
                in its hothouse way is his Franck, prefaced 
                by his own comments (and Rodzinski’s 
                piano illustrations) in an Outline 
                of Themes disc. This is the only 
                performance in the set that I’ve been 
                able to compare with any previous issue; 
                not having any of the 78s I listened 
                to an American Stokowski Society LP 
                made by Ward Marston [LSSA-3], which 
                contained both the Outline and 
                the Symphony amongst other goodies. 
                I can say that Mark Obert-Thorn, Marston’s 
                partner in transfer engineering crime, 
                has effected a big improvement. There’s 
                more surface noise, granted, but the 
                string definition is palpable and a 
                real improvement in clarity. As for 
                the performance those who know the much 
                later Stokowski/Hilversum performance 
                should be aware that with the Philadelphia 
                he was a good four minutes quicker and 
                more febrile all round. The 1927 sound 
                is not that good, there’s some scuffing 
                and a boomy bass line, and I prefer 
                Monteux and Beecham among his contemporaries 
                as a Franck conductor. But no matter 
                – it’s valuable to have it. 
              
 
              
His Nocturnes – the 
                two recorded on this occasion – are 
                gloriously evocative and atmospheric 
                and more intense than the remake, when 
                he included the chorus in the full version. 
                Clair de lune is naughtily luscious 
                and the Prelude has a tender Tristanesque 
                patina I admire but can’t prefer to 
                Beecham’s slightly earlier recording 
                with his LPO. 
              
 
              
The final disc includes 
                a disappointing dead loss of a Brahms 
                4. The band sounds third rate, the portamenti 
                are unusually pervasive and the recording 
                quality was not good (inaudible percussion 
                are not the least of it). It was originally 
                recorded onto 7 10" records – an 
                unusual practice given the work – and 
                it was apparently never issued on 78 
                (though John Hunt in his Stokowski discography 
                claims it was issued in Chile in this 
                form). The first matrix, missing, has 
                been replaced by a 1933 Stokowski remake. 
                There’s a hammy Brahms Hungarian Dance 
                that would have embarrassed the potted 
                plants and some better morceaux, notably 
                a brace of (cut) Strauss Waltzes, Salome 
                and Sousa. 
              
 
              
In all then a four-for-the-price-of-three 
                deal for Stokowskians and one that restores 
                overlooked recordings to the catalogue. 
                The biggest works come off worst. But 
                the transfers cope well with sometimes 
                restricted sonics and Richard Freed 
                has covered discographic ground with 
                assiduous devotion. Good for Stokowskians 
                but as for the non-partisan listener 
                it’s a bit of a glass half-empty, glass 
                half-full sort of set. 
              
 
              
              
Jonathan Woolf