As if Naxos CDs were not already cheap enough, a large amount
of semi-historical material is being made available for download
only, costing scarcely more than you would have paid for the original
LPs fifty-odd years of inflation ago. If you download everything
according to the numbers above you’ll get four not very well-filled
CDs corresponding to the contents of the LPs. You can also print
out covers but there are no notes or inlays as far as I can see.
Nor is there any information about the transfer engineers. Having
downloaded it all there are various ways of putting it onto just
three CDs without splitting any symphony and you also have the
option of downloading any of the four "discs" that interest
you - the tracks within them are not available separately. I can’t
quite get rid of the idea that this is a substitute for the real
thing, but it has enabled me to hear a Brahms cycle I have wondered
about for a long time.
There
are a number of artists whose careers substantially took place
during the era of 78s and mono LPs but whose longevity enabled
them to re-record much of their repertoire in excellent stereo.
Among conductors, Bruno Walter and Pierre Monteux come to mind,
as well as Sir Adrian Boult. When the stereo recordings were
made, everyone loved the musicians too much to want to be critical
about what were still clearly very good performances. Over the
years, the obvious listener-friendliness of the more recent
recordings has encouraged a lazy tendency to judge these conductors
on their late work.
I
discussed Boult’s
1970s cycle of the Brahms symphonies some time ago. I felt
that the Second Symphony was a great Brahms performance no matter
what the earlier version had to offer – though Mark
Bridle, writing of an earlier reissue of the cycle, was
not especially impressed. The Alto Rhapsody with Dame
Janet Baker has achieved a somewhat iconic status which I don’t
intend to put into question. I wondered, though, if the other
symphonies and orchestral works, excellent though they are,
showed these splendid interpretations at their absolute best.
Basing myself on schoolboy memories of the old Nixa LP of the
Second Symphony, I wondered what the 1954 cycle had to offer.
This
cycle had at least two transfers in the early days of CD but
the Nixa catalogue was then bought up by EMI, more, it seems,
for the purpose of suppressing it than of making it available.
These recordings are steadily entering the public domain, at
any rate in the UK and provided European worthies do not go
ahead with the threatened 95-year rule. So far Naxos have limited
themselves to these download-only issues. I don’t know what
has been used as the basis for the transfers, but I notice that
while at times – the finale of Symphony 2 and the Academic
Festival Overture – the sound has the raw but exciting quality
I remember from my schooldays, at other times more filtering
appears to have been applied. In Symphony 3 in particular, this
seems to have produced rather boomy, bass-heavy results.
The
most important performance here is probably that of Symphony
1 and fortunately this sounds pretty well; well enough to make
me feel it was as good as we can reasonably expect of 1954 mono.
There is great fullness and the strings have a “saturated” sound
recalling some of Furtwängler’s recordings. Much of this is
due, indeed, to the fact that Boult is obtaining playing of
quite extraordinary fervour. The opening pounds, for example,
but it also soars. When the Allegro arrives the tempo
is fairly broad, but Boult has the players really digging into
the details so a great momentum is built up. Despite his reputation
as a “strict-time” conductor, Boult makes some telling departures
from his original tempo here and there, always for the purpose
of clarifying the music rather than indulging it.
The
second movement is a little broader than it later became – but
still fast by many other conductors’ standards – and has great
eloquence. The care taken over the pizzicato basses in the third
movement gives it an unusual toughness. The finale, like the
first movement, is fairly broad but builds up powerfully to
a tremendous ending. Here, it seems to me, is a great Boult
Brahms 1 to set alongside the late no. 2.
Turning
to the 1970s performance, one can see why nobody particularly
queried it at the time. For those relying on memories of the
earlier LPs - which had been long unavailable - or on other
Boult performances, the interpretation remained substantially
the same and can be heard in good stereo sound. The lower-key
openings to the outer movements – more meditative than powerful
– can be justified on the grounds of not pulling out all the
stops straight away. But, while the later disc is broadly satisfying,
the lesser grip over detail and a lower level of orchestral
attentiveness cumulatively deprive the performance of its former
greatness.
Before
proceeding further I would like to show a comparative table
of the earlier and later timings. Expectations that the earlier
cycle would be Toscanini-swift and the later one broader emerge
somewhat challenged.
|
Work
|
Movement
|
1954-5
|
1970s
|
|
Symphony no. 1
|
I
|
12:39 no repeat
|
15:40 with repeat
|
|
|
II
|
09:14
|
08:27
|
|
|
III
|
04:54
|
04:51
|
|
|
IV
|
16:43
|
16:11
|
|
Symphony no. 2
|
I
|
14:57 no repeat
|
19:16 with repeat
|
|
|
II
|
09:25
|
08:29
|
|
|
III
|
05:09
|
05:17
|
|
|
IV
|
09:43
|
09:53
|
|
Symphony no. 3
|
I
|
13:38 with repeat
|
13:10 with repeat
|
|
|
II
|
08:37
|
08:35
|
|
|
III
|
05:50
|
06:06
|
|
|
IV
|
08:38
|
09:17
|
|
Symphony no. 4
|
I
|
12:40
|
12:32
|
|
|
II
|
09:52
|
10:00
|
|
|
III
|
06:35
|
06:28
|
|
|
IV
|
10:36
|
10:13
|
| Academic Festival Overture |
|
10:10
|
09:46
|
| Tragic Overture |
|
13:13
|
13:51
|
| Haydn Variations |
|
16:57
|
17:25
|
| Alto Rhapsody |
|
12:01
|
11:53
|
It will be noticed that the younger Boult took
the view, prevalent at the time, that the repeat was necessary
only in Symphony 3. This first movement is a pithy, concentrated
affair which seems too short without the repeat. While I am
happy to hear the repeats in Symphonies 1 and 2, these more
extended movements are also fully satisfying without.
Boult
always made a point of studying his scores afresh every time
he returned to a piece. In the case of Symphony 1 I wouldn’t
say he reached any very different conclusions for his last recording,
but in the case of Symphony 2 the differences are numerous.
There was much more obvious conductorial control in 1954, with
little inflexions, commas and the like all through. The whole
manner of articulation and phrasing was later modified: the
clucking woodwind quavers a few minutes into the first movement
became gentle and relaxed, the episodes in the third movement,
brilliant in 1954, became delicate and humorous. The symphony
starts more swiftly and lightly in the late recording, with
the three-note motto setting up a ground-swell that surges inexorably
through the entire work to its triumphant conclusion. Only Boult
or Klemperer at their best could achieve such structural unity
– in Brahms, Klemperer’s Symphony 3 has similar qualities. So
Boult’s late no.2 remains indispensable for me, yet I shall
also need the 1954 performance for its passion and vitality.
The sheer visceral excitement of the brass playing in the finale
is pretty staggering.
Symphony
3 is more problematic. The orchestra here sounds to be smaller
and less good. Right from the start there is a lack of unanimity
and the playing is sufficiently slipshod throughout to be distracting.
Perhaps aware that things are not going well, Boult imposes
some jabbing accents and there is a sort of animal excitement
to the louder passages, though at a fairly slow tempo. The slowish
tempo takes its toll in the more lyrical parts, which sit down
heavily.
The
later performance disappointed me when I first heard it; in
my greener years I wanted this first movement to be vital and
bracing above all. Over time I’ve come to admit that a mellow
approach has its own virtues. With much better orchestral playing
from the LSO the sheer flow of the 1970s recording makes for
more satisfying results.
In
the middle movements Boult found good tempi in 1954 which let
the music flow of its own accord and there is some nice phrasing.
But so he did in the later record, again with superior playing.
Boult
surprised his admirers in his last recording by an abrupt tempo
change in the finale – repeated at a similar point later in
the movement. Perhaps they should not have been surprised. The
same change was there in 1954, except that he made an accelerando
in the passage leading up to it, so the effect was less abrupt.
Following a somewhat doleful start, the performance takes on
an almost Toscaninian fire. The trouble is that it loses steam
badly when the original tempo takes over again. By making less
of an explosion of the faster passage in the later version,
Boult achieves a better unity there. So, of the two I prefer
the late one. But, as I suggested above, Klemperer is the man
to go for if you want the sort of experience Boult provides
in Symphony 2.
By
the way, is this really the LPO? After all, for contractual
reasons the cycle originally came out as played by the “Philharmonic
Promenade Orchestra”. So if, for some scheduling problems, Symphony
3 had to be made with an inferior band, the same pseudonym could
have been attached just the same.
Symphony
4 is a pretty powerful affair. The differences are similar to
those in Symphony 2, except that the late Symphony 4 doesn’t
rise to quite the same exalted level. Either that or this same
approach doesn’t suit Symphony 4 so well. The late first movement
gains in flow what it loses in massive power. Near the recapitulation
of the second group the tempo has become so deliberate in 1954
that Boult can be heard deliberately cranking it back to the
original speed – this might have warranted a retake.
In
1954 it is perhaps the closeness of the recording of the string
pizzicato that gives the impression in the slow movement that
the music is striding ahead without proper breathing space.
The later recording has an affecting serenity.
The
1954 scherzo is one of the most purposeful I have ever heard,
but it’s a bit one-sided. The later version has more sense of
enjoyment, and a graciousness in the gentler moments. There’s
some pretty colossal power in the finale, but in giving space
to his very fine flautist Boult slows down more than one would
expect. He has a more seamless flow in the later version, but
does not quite find the force to ram home the ending. Force
was certainly not lacking in 1954.
These
two surprisingly different performances somehow complement each
other without either of them being ideal. Memory insists that
I was present at an ideal Boult Brahms 4 with the SNO in Edinburgh
in 1971. It is a pity that Boult has not as yet been subject
to the sort of delving accorded to such figures as Scherchen,
Schuricht or Knappertsbusch.
The
Academic Festival Overture is another example of a radical
rethink. In 1954 it began slowly, almost mysteriously. Perhaps
because of the relative ragbag construction - by Brahms’s lofty
standards - Boult sought maximum characterization of each theme
rather than symphonic cogency. Nonetheless it all builds up,
leading to a terrific explosion of joy at the end.
Twenty
years later Boult began at the tempo at which he intended to
continue. Though the various episodes are characterized with
affection he allows precious little leeway in a straight-down-the-line
interpretation that I have always found rather unimaginative,
almost bandmasterly. A definite win for the earlier one, I’d
say. This was the only Brahms piece of which Boult set down
an “in-between” version, on a programme of short orchestral
pieces for World Record Club in the late 1960s. Relying on very
distant memories, I’d say the tightening up process was already
in place by then.
The
1954 Tragic Overture is shattering, with stinging attack
and much drama. However, the interesting thing about the later
traversal is that it is not just a run-down version of the earlier
one, it adopts a quite different style. Take the opening chords.
The staccato is impatient, almost brutal in the earlier recording.
In the later one the strings have a more rounded attack, with
longer bows and less short staccato. The emphasis of the performance
is on warmth and humanity rather than blistering tragedy.
It
would be easy to say, well perhaps the poor old man was only
half in control in the 1970s and just had to take what the orchestra
gave him. But no, the character of the performance is consistent
and, in any case, the LSO of the day, well into André Previn’s
tenure, would have logically provided something more bright
and brilliant in the absence of conductorial input.
Something
similar has happened to the Haydn Variations. The 1954
one is very lively with some quite upfront tempi. The later
one – and this was very late, recorded with the Serenades
some years after the Symphonies – is not just slower, the style
is different. The theme sounded bright and perky in 1954 with
some sharp staccatos. The late one has only semi-staccatos.
It sounds relaxed and gracious. Pretty well the same sort of
comparison can be made with every variation. More than preferring
one to the other, I was just amazed that the same conductor
could change so much. Only at the end did I find the late recording
at a disadvantage. After a good start to the finale, Boult’s
concern to avoid pomposity is a little underwhelming. The earlier
one avoids pomposity because it is faster.
Differences
in the Alto Rhapsody are really a matter of the soloists.
Monica Sinclair’s top notes soar well and her lower ones are
firm. In the middle her questionable intonation tends to lend
a somewhat expressionist, Bergian flavour to Brahms’s already
bleak vision. With a closely recorded and somewhat ragged choral
contribution there is no competition here for Dame Janet Baker’s
celebrated version. I realize there are some who feel that the
fast tempi on that recording sacrifice depth at the expense
of formal elegance, but the Sinclair performance is unlikely
to answer their prayers.
Readers
may have noticed that my conclusions rather more complex than
I expected. I am reminded that Boult, in his late interpretations
of British music, seemed to be casting his mind back to the
England of his youth. His Tallis Fantasia, infused with
Hardy-like toughness and timelessness in the 1950s, became nostalgic
in the 1970s. His Elgar 2, fierce and almost angry in the 1940s,
became by degrees through to his final recording a requiem for
a lost era.
But
Boult had also been well acquainted with pre-First World War
Germany. He had studied pretty well all the leading German and
Austrian conductors in action and his ideal Brahms interpreter
remained Steinbach – who was also Brahms’s own favourite. But
then came Toscanini. If any of Boult’s 1930s Brahms were to
surface – unlikely, I fear – the influence of Toscanini would
surely be strong. By 1954 Boult was already 65 and his tempi
were broad by Toscanini standards. However, the orchestral style
adopted, aiming at brilliant articulation and razor-sharp attack
– though the LPO of the day could not provide this to NBC standards
– was still clearly Toscaninian. In his late cycle, then, I
believe Boult was deliberately shedding the Toscanini influence
and seeking to recreate the Brahms he remembered from his youth.
The softer orchestral style is not to be interpreted as a lessening
of grip, though the infirmities of old age did also mean that
his intentions were not always fully realized. His earlier methods
produced a great Symphony 1, his later ones a great Symphony
2. Great Symphonies 3 and 4 may exist in off-the-air tapings.
For all the merits of the 1954 Fourth I’d say the later ones
come closer to greatness without quite reaching it.
At
under £8 for downloading the lot it would seem penny-splitting
to pick and choose. However, those with the later cycle and not
too much shelf space might like to pull down Symphony 1 plus the
Tragic Overture.
Christopher
Howell
Monica Sinclair
(contralto)*, Chorus of the Croydon Philharmonic Society*
[56:43+49:24+48:44+56:40]
