Rudolf
Serkin’s CBS recording of K.449 with the Columbia Symphony Orchestra
under Alexander Schneider was well-regarded in the 1960s. Slightly
surprisingly, I find no evidence that he set down K.467 before
the somewhat disappointing DG version with the LSO under Abbado,
a late offering that found him past his best. Or perhaps it
is not so surprising, since CBS listed a performance by Robert
Casadesus with the Columbia SO under Szell, and companies didn’t
duplicate repertoire like wildfire in those days. Under the
circumstances, it is fortunate that K.467 makes by far the more
sympathetic impression here, chiefly on account of the recording.
European
listeners used to complain enough about the over-bright, close-up
sound favoured by CBS at that period. These Edinburgh recordings
are closer still, with a microphone apparently placed near Serkin’s
foot, which bangs the pedal or the floor loudly whenever he
gets excited. A gentle if unmelodious vocal accompaniment is
to be heard even in some of his studio recordings; here he snorts
and grunts through his favourite bits. It is all very vital
and upfront but surely too aggressive for Mozart. Much the same
may be said of the orchestra, with vicious accents, strings
fit for Rachmaninov and thunderous bass-lines. Out on his own
in the March and the Dances, Schneider creates a similarly gutsy
but over-the-top impression.
Probably
it all fell into perspective back in the hall. The recording
of K.467 suggests as much. This appears to be mono only, with
a touch of distortion and some background, but with a proper
concert hall perspective. Treat it as a typical off-the-air
recording and you won’t be disappointed. A note actually says
that “The assistance of Richard Landau is gratefully acknowledged
(K.467)”, which I suppose means that the BBC tapes were long
ago wiped clean and Mr. Landau volunteered his home-made copy.
Indeed, I can reveal that “BBC Legends” doesn’t mean at all
what it sounds as if it means. The phrase is a close cousin
of “Metropolitan Legends”. Just as these latter include albino
alligators, Men in Black, escaped dinosaurs and other pleasant
objects which are said to exist but can’t be produced, “BBC
Legends” are recordings that were made and broadcast but only
exist if some public-spirited home-taper has a copy in his attic.
Well,
fortunately this one exists. Heard at a proper distance the
orchestra is vital and full-toned but also refined and stylish.
Serkin occasionally dawdles or runs ahead, mostly in the earlier
stages of the first movement. But in general this is a performance
high in disciplined energy with a majestic first movement, a
gentle, song-like Andante and a sizzling finale. The later DG
recording is of course technically superior and Abbado conducts
with much refinement, but Serkin admirers will probably regard
the Guildhall performance as the representative version from
now on.
Incidentally,
the track details inform us that the German Dances are played
in an “arrangement for piano and orchestra”. An intriguing prospect,
but not a note from the piano is to be heard from beginning
to end. Maybe Serkin amused himself shaking the tambourine in
the “Turkish” last dance. All the same, it will be interesting
to see if any critics, on the strength of the track details,
will wax lyrical about Serkin’s “contribution”.
Christopher
Howell
Rudolf Serkin
(piano)* 
