When
reviewing
the Klemperer box of romantic symphonies and overtures I remarked upon
the odd omission of his recordings of the Overture and Dream Pantomime
from Humperdinck’s
Hänsel und Gretel. Well, here they
are, although Humperdinck’s name is omitted from the box cover
and neither piece comes from the twentieth century. They are indeed
as good as I remembered, serious performances that nevertheless have
plenty of sparkle when required and bring out many of the delightful
felicities in the scoring; there are subsidiary themes here which often
go unremarked in other performances. It is extraordinary if, as Richard
Osborne states in his booklet notes, Klemperer never conducted this
work in the opera house; one would have thought that during his lengthy
career in German theatres before 1933 he could hardly have avoided it,
especially since his wife frequently sang the part of Gertrude and the
Witch.
The remainder of the works in this collection are undeniably from the
twentieth century, and the earliest recording here is the suite from
Hindemith’s ‘choreographic legend’
Nobilissima
visione.
Richard Osborne tells us that this was a last-minute
substitute for the Hindemith Horn Concerto, the recording of which had
to be abandoned when Klemperer and Dennis Brain failed to agree over
the proper tempi for the performance. Brain subsequently recorded the
work with Hindemith himself conducting. I cannot find that the Klemperer
recording of the ballet was ever issued during his lifetime, or indeed
before it appeared on CD in 2000; perhaps Walter Legge was at a loss
to find a suitable coupling. It is a very good performance indeed, with
only a slight lack of full string tone to indicate the age of the mono
recording which otherwise is admirable in all respects. The Philharmonia
at this time were making a number of recordings of modern scores, including
Hindemith and Bartók with Karajan and Britten with various conductors;
in later years such studio ventures into modern territory would become
rarer.
Klemperer himself had commissioned Weill’s
Kleine Dreigroschenmusik
following the successful stage première of the
Dreigroschenoper
the year before, and gave the first performance at the Kroll Opera in
Berlin during his final years in pre-Nazi Germany. He always had a warm
affection for the work, and this comes across in this delightfully insouciant
performance which is superbly inflected by the Philharmonia players
with just the right degree of sleaziness, never overdone. Klemperer
also espoused the music of Stravinsky during these years, but the only
recordings he ever made were those included here of the
Pulcinella
suite and the
Symphony in three movements. He takes a very serious
view indeed of the latter at an unexpectedly slow speed, bringing out
the ominous nature of the writing but at the expense of some of the
more abrupt violence that Stravinsky himself revealed in his recording
of the score.
Pulcinella, on the other hand, has a lighter touch
which allows for Klemperer’s sly and mordant humour to come through.
Klemperer paid his own compositional tribute to Stravinsky’s take
on Pergolesi in his own orchestral suite on pieces by Rameau, which
has a similarly quirky and consciously ‘modern’ approach
to the music.
The second disc in this set gives us three examples of Klemperer’s
own compositions. Like many conductors of his generation, Klemperer
desired to make a reputation as a composer; unlike his contemporaries,
he was rather diffident about putting his works forward for recording
or performance. He spent some forty or more years working on an opera
entitled
Das Ziel, but the only piece from the score that was
published was the
Merry Waltz included here, probably the best-known
of his compositions (not that that is saying much) and the only one
that attracted the attention of other conductors including Leopold Stokowski.
The
Second Symphony was recently recorded for CPO by Alun Francis,
as part of a valuable disc that also includes the
First Symphony
and a number of other shorter works including the
Merry Waltz.
Shortly after early performances of the
First Symphony Klemperer
sent a copy of the score to Benjamin Britten, whose response is documented
in Richard Osborne’s booklet: “I feel that your ideas are
often very good. But, dear Doctor, I am not always so sure that the
notes you have chosen are always the right ones to express what is so
clearly in your mind.” One has to admit that Britten’s instinctive
response was right; one can sense the purposefulness of the ideas that
underlie the
Second Symphony, but at the same time remain unconvinced
that Klemperer is at his best in trying to convey these to the listener.
The result is rather Mahlerian in texture - late Mahler, rather than
the composer’s earlier more romantic style. The basic themes are
not particularly memorable; and, although the music is often entertaining
and sometimes demonstrates a real depth of emotional feeling, the most
effective moments come when Klemperer is closest to models such as Shostakovich;
an almost exact quotation of a phrase near the beginning of the
Fifth
Symphony. The Sibelius-like brass chords which interrupt the progress
of the slow movement are also significant.
Klemperer’s
String Quartet is a curiously inconsequential
work; the opening fugue has hardly begun before it tails off into decidedly
un-fugal material. The same lack of continuing sustained development
is apparent as in the
Second Symphony. There is some decidedly
insecure playing in parts of the symphony, seemingly recorded in a solitary
session although there is some unexpectedly lush string playing. The
players, drawn from the New Philharmonia in the quartet, seem to be
more comfortable with the music itself. The quartet has never been recorded
subsequently, so this is our only opportunity to hear it.
The final one-and-a-half discs in this collection contain an extensive
biographical documentary - near two hours long. Memories of Klemperer
from those who worked with him are combined with extracts from his BBC
Face to face interview with John Freeman and snippets from the
EMI archives. There are also extracts from various recordings which
often continue - somewhat disconcertingly, because just on the borders
of audibility - beneath the dialogue. As is the inevitable nature of
such things, the text verges on the hagiographic, with little indication
of the many problems that Klemperer caused to his fellow performers
beyond oblique mentions of truculence and bullying. Klemperer’s
jokes, delivered in an almost impenetrable accent, are never as funny
as his audiences seem to find at the time. The documentary is nevertheless
valuable in resurrecting some rare recordings - previously unpublished
rehearsal sequences from
Don Giovanni, and a section of a remarkable
1929 recording of the
Dance of the Seven Veils from Strauss’s
Salome which shows the results that Klemperer could obtain from
his Berlin players in the late 1920s. It demonstrates that his recordings
made in London some thirty years later were not just a matter of superlative
playing but also of deeply-felt involvement by the conductor.
Paul Corfield Godfrey
Masterwork Index:
Pulcinella
Recording details
Kingsway Hall, London,
128-30 March and 16 May 1962:
218
February, 14-18 May 1963 and 20 February 1964:
330-31 October
and 2 December 1961:
67-8 May 1954 [mono]:
727-29
September 1960: Abbey Road Studios, London,
43 March 1969:
516-17 February 1970
