In terms of recording history Hidemaro Konoye is best known
for his pioneering 1930 recording of Mahler’s Fourth Symphony,
made in Tokyo for Japanese Parlophone. The seeming incongruity
of this undertaking, and the West’s comparative ignorance of
the Japanese recording industry, has conspired to grant this
set a real, albeit unexpected cachet. But Konoye, or Viscount
Konoye (1898-1973), was steeped in Austro-German music. He’d
first studied in Germany four years after Mahler’s death, then
returned to Europe in 1923, studying with a raft of big names
– composition with d’Indy and Schreker, and conducting with
Erich Kleiber and Karl Muck. Konoye founded the New Symphony
Orchestra of Tokyo, with whom he made the Mahler recording,
but he also had an established relationship with the Berlin
Philharmonic, which he first directed in 1924. Thirteen years
later he began a small series of recordings with them, all presented
in this disc.
Mozart’s Sinfonia Concertante grants solo space to four leading
Berlin principals: Erich Venzke (oboe), Alfred Bürkner (clarinet),
Martin Ziller (horn) and Oskar Rothensteiner (bassoon). All
four play with personable wit, and whilst they are perhaps less
richly individual than the soloists on Stokowski’s near contemporaneous
Philadelphia recording – Marcel Tabuteau, Bernard Portnoy, Mason
Jones and Sol Schoenbach were the illustrious names in that
set – some may prefer Konoye’s more discreet handling of the
orchestral fabric. He encourages some warm slides in the opening
introduction and throughout, but otherwise adopts a ‘let them
play’ approach that works well, not least in the bucolic finale.
Haydn’s Symphony No.91 was well chosen for recording purposes.
Not only is it compact but I’m not aware of any contender in
the late 30s. The Polydors used for transfer are rather more
crackly than the Columbias used for the Mozart, but once again
side joins are imperceptible and the sound spectrum is excellent.
Konoye proves to be a rather impressive Classicist, imbuing
the music with a nicely characterised quality, and pomposo
when required.
Mussorgsky’s A Night on the Bare Mountain managed to
fit onto two sides of a Polydor 78, and it’s tautly argued and
quite driven. The remainder of the disc offers a slice of political
life. There’s the German National Anthem, coupled on the same
side with the Horst Wessel Lied, and on the reverse the
Japanese National Anthem in Konoye’s own arrangement. For obvious
reasons these recordings haven’t seen much currency since the
War.
This disc houses the complete Konoye Berlin recordings, in fine
transfers. If you’re curious, you can purchase with confidence,
in both interpretative and transfer senses.
Jonathan Woolf