"After dinner, in the
presence of the children, R. plays from
the second act of Tristan. Whether I
am getting more and more receptive or
pathologically sensitive, I don't know,
but I can hardly endure certain powerful
impressions ..." (Cosima Wagner - diary
entry for 24 January 1869).
If anyone repeats the
chestnut that there are no heroic Wagner
sopranos to match past greats then insist
they listen to Christine Brewer on this
live recording based on broadcasts from
London's Barbican Hall. This is documentary
evidence that Brewer must be discussed
in the same bracket as Eileen Farrell,
Rita Hunter, Traubel and even Flagstad.
Brewer's majestic command,
response to text and natural dramatic
flair are miraculous. The 'front' of
her voice is focused so that words are
clear, as you would hear from a lyric
soprano. Behind that there is a rich
resonance, almost like a sound chamber
that refracts the most extraordinary
colours, including gorgeous burnished
metals, and imparts all the dramatic
soprano power required. Brewer's tone
is more beautiful, indeed warmer, than
Nilsson's penetrating timbre.
Can any soprano today
sing the Liebestod so well? Brewer’s
phrasing is perfectly natural and it
is thrilling to hear her soar on the
orchestral swell, high on the note,
as if pushing up through some unseen
barrier and into the skies. Brewer's
colours and security here don't so much
supersede Stemme on the recent Papano
EMI recording, as blow her out of the
water.
Incredibly, this is
the first time Brewer sang a note of
Isolde on stage. Whilst some patching
sessions were needed before this performance
was released commercially, none was
required for her.
John Treleaven is a
fine Tristan who may not have the most
beautiful heldentenor on record but
does beautiful things with it. I was
most struck by the injected dark inwardness
of "O sink hernieder … ", almost as
if sung by a different voice to the
previous lines. Also, sample the lines
beginning "So starben wir, um ungetrennt
…" where Treleaven moulds and colours
with otherworldly intensity, holding
the words as if he could not bear to
let them go. A national newspaper review
noted that Treleavan tires a little
towards the end of Act III, but isn't
this the point dramatically?
Two other singers need
special mention. Pecková's earthy,
vibrant mezzo is a superb contrast to
her mistress's sovereign radiance. Note
the slightly hysterical desperation
Pecková brings to the crisis
that ends Act I. Peter Rose's King Marke
is blessed with a deep well of sound,
dark and cool.
Runnicles’ conducting
holds many insights such as ratcheting
tension towards thunderous timps for
the drinking of the love potion. Also
try the gathering rhythmic force as
worrying strings give way to biting
brass, which never unduly overpower,
as Isolde regrets sheltering Tristan
(CD1, track 5). Brewer here brilliantly
captures Isolde’s turmoil of grief and
fury.
The Act II duet is
surprisingly gentle so that the final
crisis comes too suddenly. Compare with
Furtwängler and Goodall who build
the duet in more powerful, grander steps
that really take the music airborne
and generate conflagration. In the final
moments of the duet Flagstad for Furtwängler
hits "one consciousness" forte. Then
the violins surge forward in plunge
in a frankly sexual metaphor. Goodall
begins the duet from "O sink hernieder
… " extremely tenderly, building over
the next twenty minutes almost overwhelming
waves of sound. His Isolde Linda Esther
Gray sings "one consciousness" with
searing power, her voice reminding me
of a flaming sword held aloft in an
English National Opera Tristan I
saw years ago. Like Furtwängler,
Goodall's violins surge outward at this
moment, plunging with the lovers’ abandonment.
Runnicles' Act II crisis
is compromised by distant strings and
the woodwind are not clear enough. The
Act I coda also lacks sheer volume.
I wonder to what extent the BBC multi-miking
is responsible? Listen to Goodall's
25 year old Decca recording to hear
how powerful, even violent, the orchestra
can sound. The BBC engineers do however
make the Barbican acoustic sound warmer
than the LSO Live recordings. Applause
is retained at the end of each act.
Warner Classics include
a libretto and essay. Surprisingly,
there are no biographies of the artists.
The CDs are in cardboard sleeves, which
I dislike as I worry they will be scuffed
when slid in/out. The cover artwork
includes corny Pre-Raphaelite imagery:
yuk. If only the designers looked instead
to ancient Celtic art, say, at the British
Museum.
Furtwängler on
EMI super-budget priced CDs remains
an essential purchase. And try to find
his 1947 live Berlin Staatsoper excerpts
where the orchestral sound is less muddy
and Furtwängler is utterly incandescent.
Despite Brewer, Pecková,
Rose and the fine BBCSO, this new Tristan
und Isolde gives way to the Goodall
set. The Decca recording has more detail
and range and the Mitchinson/Gray team
is impressive. This is entirely subjective,
and may seem perverse after my praise
for the great Isoldes, but Gray is closer
in my mind to the young Celtic sorceress.
Gray's legato phrasing, colouring and
living dramatic response bring Isolde
before this listener. Even Gray's slight
strain at the "world- breath" crescendo
of the Liebestod seems more dramatically
real: this is not a superstar soprano
cleaving through symphonic sound but
a young woman overwhelmed as she faces
transfiguration.
Goodall outclasses
even Furtwängler in Tristan.
Wagner’s music flows and breathes with
intimacy, passion and cosmic vision.
The inner pulse and huge arches of sound,
even at slower tempi, seem to transcend
time itself. It is Goodall who reminds
the listener most of the radical, dangerousness
and eroticism that Cosima most probably
sensed.
David Harbin
BBC Symphony Orchestra/Donald Runnicles
