These recordings have appeared in at least two guises,
with the original postage stamp cover as 410 003-2, and as one of Decca’s
budget ‘Eclipse’ titles in the 1990s. Ashkenazy’s
Beethoven symphonies are very good performances, though with the Philharmonia
Orchestra any recording is always going to be put against those of Otto
Klemperer, and with all their idiosyncrasies it is the sheer power and
character of Klemperer’s work which has best stood the test of
time.
These early digital recordings are actually quite fine, with a slightly
glassy upper sheen to the sound but still sounding nicely detailed and
transparent. Ashenazy’s ‘Pastoral’ symphony is thoughtfully
prepared and with a generous lyrical touch, but at a good 7 minutes
longer than, say,
Claudio
Abbado, you know straight away you’re in for a broader view
of the work. This works well enough in its own terms, and Ashkenazy
has a good enough grip of his excellent orchestra to prevent the music
becoming stodgy. Abbado does somehow however conjure a more tranquil
Szene am Bach even with his faster tempo, with more layers and
depth to the music. My impression is of the more urgent speed as the
running water, with the country folk going about their business with
a sense of innocence, rather than with Ashkenazy’s rather more
old-fashioned sense of grandeur not really moving much further than
some Fragonard-like ideal. If you are used to Abbado’s keenly
dramatic
Gewitter, Sturm, then Ashkenazy’s version won’t
scare you in quite the same way - it’s more ‘mild peril
on a bouncy castle’ than anything truly penetrating. The final
song of gratitude ticks all the boxes, though is not the most exuberant
you’ll hear.
The two overtures make for substantial fillers, and ‘Egmont’
is performed with glowing affection though without some of the gripping
darkness in other versions. Klemperer’s elderly mono Philharmonia
recording comes in at 9:35 compared to Ashkenazy’s 8:55, but builds
and releases tension to teeth clenching heights.
Leonore No. 3
is well-nigh identical in timing to Klemperer and is well shaped, Beethoven’s
extended introduction atmospheric as it should be, and launching into
a suitably sprightly sequence of rich melodic invention and theatrical
drama both on and off stage.
Despite my mild criticisms, there is a sense of pleasant nostalgia about
this early 1980s programme, and Ashkenazy’s performances deserve
to maintain their place in the catalogue. There are numerous recordings
which I would favour above them, though perhaps not so very many in
this price range. Vladimir Ashkenazy can sound a bit old-hat when put
against the crisper tempi and articulation we often hear these days,
but there is no denying the warmth. If you seek an alternative to ubiquitous
names such as Karajan and indeed Klemperer or Abbado, and prefer your
Beethoven more luminous, lyrical and loving than grim, gruff and gritty,
then you’ll find a great deal to enjoy here.
Dominy Clements
Masterwork Index:
Beethoven
Symphony 6 
