There’s never been a better time to buy classical
boxes, as even the most cursory glance at online music retailers will
show. EMI, past masters at the art of reissues, are among them with
a long list of Klemperer collections. Several of these have already
been reviewed on MusicWeb, and generally well received to boot. There’s
no doubt that this craggy-countenanced conductor was a mainstay of their
catalogue in the 1960s and early 1970s, and while many of us already
have these Mahler performances this freshly remastered bargain will
be hard to resist.
The virtues and vices of Klemperer’s Mahler recordings with the
Philharmonia and New Philharmonia have been well rehearsed, not least
in the late Tony Duggan’s detailed
survey,
so what follows is really a reappraisal of these performances; for the
benefit of newcomers I’ve added pointers to recommendable versions
that have appeared in recent years. First there’s the question
of sonics. While EMI’s LPs of the period were generally well recorded
many have suffered grievously in the transfer to CD. I’ve lost
count of the number of vinyl favourites that have been ruined in the
process; warm, spacious recordings have become cold and confining, and
all too often the aggressive treble is simply crucifying.
Happily that’s not the case with these very full and unfatiguing
24/96 remasters.
CD1 contains what was for many years my most
revered - and played - performance of the ‘Resurrection’.
Klemperer’s direct, unfussy view of this great score has never
been equalled, let alone surpassed, although some have come pretty close.
There’s an unerring ‘rightmess’ about this reading,
a glorious processional that hoists the listener aloft and bears him
all the way to that overwhelming apotheosis. Indeed, as I write Mahler’s
Day of Judgement is ringing in my ears and my fingers are still trembling.
Even after all this time - and so many other ‘Resurrections’
- this one still has the power to move, and move mightily.
What of the competition? In a sense there isn’t any, although
I do understand that Klemperer’s implacable but never dull view
of this piece won’t appeal to everyone; Mehta’s 1975 account
with the WP (Decca) still sounds well, and James Levine’s live
Salzburg performance on Orfeo - also with the Viennese - has a cogency
and thrust that’s very compelling (
review).
I would also put in a good word for Simone Young, whose Hamburg set
from Oehms has much to commend it (
review).
That said, among recent recordings Jonathan Nott and his Bambergers
manage to combine Klemperer’s bedrock certainties with a thrilling
sense of theatre; indeed, he conjures up one of the most riveting and
transported Mahler 2s of recent memory (
review).
CD2 contains one of Mahler’s sunniest creations, the Fourth,
and a raft of songs from the
Rückert-Lieder and
Des Knaben
Wunderhorn. For such a forbidding figure - the phrase ‘imperious
mien’ could have been coined for him - Klemperer certainly knew
how to smile; tempi are very agreeable and he shapes everything so well.
Once again there’s a sense that this is how the music should go;
as for his players they lean into those lovely,
echt-Mahlerian
rhythms and phrases with affection and delight. Even though Klemperer
recorded this symphony several times the refurbished sound of this version
makes this the most desirable one by far. True, the upper strings and
the preponderance of twinkling timbres invite a rather bright sound,
but there’s enough bass warmth - ballast, if you like - to compensate.
The all-important horn passages are superb - how beautifully they are
articulated in the closing moments of the first movement - and there’s
an agility to the orchestral playing that can’t fail to please.
Not surprising, given that the Philharmonia - shaped by Karajan in its
formative years - was still a virtuoso band. Elisabeth Schwarzkopf is
suitably clear and artless in the child-heaven finale - there’s
none of the archness that so irritated her detractors in Strauss’s
Four Last Songs - and her soft high notes are exquisite. Klemperer
is in robust if not particularly transparent support throughout. Both
are only found wanting alongside Iván Fischer and the near-ideal
Miah Persson, whose miraculously sprung, light-infused Channel Classics
SACD and RCO Live Blu-ray/DVD set new standards for this work (
review).
Christa Ludwig’s admirable diction and subtle sense of drama,
allied to Klemperer’s pliant - and often radiant - accompaniment
makes for an uncommonly fine and generous ‘filler’. What
an intuitive artist Ludwig is, and how unerringly she gets to the nub
of these songs; just listen to how she brings triumphant light into
the darkness of
Um Mitternacht, for instance. If I’ve understood
the small print on the box these vocal items have not been re-mastered,
which could explain the slight hardness in Ludwig’s voice under
pressure. I’m delighted to shelve these three
Rückert-Lieder
alongside the complete set she recorded for Karajan; this was coupled
with the Fifth Symphony, which has just been released on BD-A. Still,
I’d happily surrender all else for the intoxicating scent of this
older rendition of
Ich atmet' einen linden Duft.
By the time we get to
CD3 the ledger shows Klemperer is comfortably
in the black, although this (in)famously long Seventh - 101 minutes
as opposed to the usual 80 or so - will challenge the patience and devotion
of even his most loyal fans. The first movement, shrouded in gloom,
seems more impenetrable than ever, especially at these sluggish speeds.
One could be charitable and say Klemperer’s is just an extreme
view of a troubled and troubling symphony, but next to the likes of
David Zinman and the Tonhalle on Sony it seems cruelly hobbled from
the start. That said, the orchestra are on reasonable form - there’s
some gorgeous, well-rounded brass playing here - and the sonorous, wide-ranging
sonics are very respectable indeed.
I wouldn’t want to be without this Seventh, as infuriating as
it is, simply because there’s a grim logic to the performance
- and some startling epiphanies, not least in the piercingly beautiful
Andante amoroso - that compels one to endure its less-than-heavenly
length. It may not be this conductor’s finest two hours - it certainly
wasn’t Boulez’s best 80 minutes in his perplexing DG and
RCO Live accounts - especially when the lumbering
Rondo-Finale
threatens to come unstuck. Intonation problems and general untidiness
don’t help; and yet I’d urge old hands and new listeners
alike to give this recording a chance for, paradoxical as it may seem,
Klemperer’s Atlas-challenging weight and resolute tread invest
the work with a stoicism and grandeur that’s strangely moving
at times.
Mahler performances don’t come more epic - or wayward, even perverse
- than this, but if Klemperer’s Seventh doesn’t impress
you there are some fine, relatively ‘safe’ audio and video
alternatives. I’m particularly fond of Michael Gielen on Hänssler,
whose Mahler 7 - like the rest of his sought-after cycle - burns with
a steady but intense flame; meanwhile on DVD/Blu-ray Claudio Abbado’s
‘mighty, long-shadowed’ Lucerne account is let down by less
than top-notch sonics (
review).
As for Klemperer’s iconic Ninth and
Das Lied von der Erde
- spread across
CDs 4, 5 and 6 - I haven’t listened to
them carefully for a while, so I was curious to see if they are still
earth-shattering. As leave-takings go these two works are in a league
of their own, and that’s why they demand and deserve only the
best interpreters. The lucrative Mahler industry means that everyone’s
recording the Ninth these days, but Abbado’s various accounts
- not his dreadful GMJO video - are well worth hearing. Don’t
overlook Gielen’s seemingly understated yet deeply felt performance
either, or Alan Gilbert’s searing Stockholm version from BIS;
both deserve a place on your shelves.
Many critics still maintain that Bernard Haitink’s Philips account
of the Ninth is indispensable, but if that doesn’t work for you
- it never has for me - then his new Concertgebouw reading in the RCO
Live box I mentioned earlier almost certainly will. This all-seeing,
all conquering view from the summit of a long and distinguished career
makes Haitink’s latest the most luminous and all-embracing Ninth
I’ve ever heard. Definitely one for the desert island.
I suppose tone shouldn’t merely ‘hear’ these valedictory
masterworks, one should ‘experience’ them; and that’s
the case with Klemperer’s powerful, probing Ninth. I have it on
a very shrill EMI twofer, but I’m pleased to say this new re-mastering
has tamed the trying treble and restored some depth and ‘bloom’
to the proceedings. As a performance it’s just as gaunt and uncompromising
as I remember it, and one is forcibly reminded that it’s not just
the music that’s near breaking point; the New Philharmonia go
to the very edge for Klemperer, and that sometimes makes for uncomfortable
listening. The two inner movements have come up very well in this remastering,
but they don’t sound quite as poised as you’ll hear from
Haitink on RCO Live.
That said, the unsentimental Klemperer’s Ninth is the very antithesis
of Haitink’s more forgiving and pliable one. For the first time
there are audible signs of distress in some tuttis - even the finest
engineers wouldn’t be able to fix that - and the familiar thumps
and bumps are clearer than ever. With Gilbert and Haitink still reasonably
fresh in my mind I feel that for all its strength and sinew this is
not the unassailable Ninth I first thought it to be, although the long,
slow dissolution of the
Adagio is as intuitively shaped and as
achingly felt as any. The extra warmth missing from earlier CD versions
is welcome, but the timbral sophistication of more modern rivals reveals
so much more of Mahler’s intricate and finely nuanced score. Stoicism
is the key word once more, and Klemperer shapes the music with all the
authority and heft one would expect from him.
If I’m slightly less overwhelmed by this Ninth than I once was
it’s because there are rather more versions now than there were
nearly four decades ago, when I first heard it. The intervening years
have also shown that this great symphony responds well to a variety
of approaches, and that Klemperer’s indomitable way isn’t
the only one. Perhaps the real triumph lies in the remastering which,
in the
Adagio especially, restores the inner glow and glorious
sonorities I heard on my old LPs. For that I give heartfelt thanks.
As an aside, all these Mahler performances have been transferred to
SACD by EMI Japan and are now available - at a premium - in Europe and
the US. I was sorely tempted by the ‘Resurrection’ (TOGE-15044)
at £40, but I see the Fourth (TOGE-15045) is priced at an eye-watering
£73. The Seventh (TOGE-12078) can be had for £63, while
the Ninth (TOGE-15062/3) and
Das Lied von der Erde (TOGE-12010)
are yours for around £30 each. Hold on to your wallet though,
for this very inexpensive box of 24/96 remasters - I’ve seen it
online for as little as £12 - represents more than enough of a
sonic transformation to satisfy me and, I’d wager, most listeners
too.
Klemperer began his recording of
Das Lied von der Erde with the
Philharmonia in February 1964, but as the orchestra changed their name
on 17 March he completed it with the New Philharmonia in November of
that year. Despite that lengthy hiatus, and two different venues, this
performance sounds remarkably consistent. Sonically it’s very
immediate - I had to reduce the volume by a couple of notches - but
there’s a weight and vitality here that’s most refreshing.
There’s just a hint of strain in the tuttis, although the wonderfully
firm and virile Wunderlich manifests no such stress in the taxing
tessitura
of the drinking song. Moreover, his already good diction sounds better
than ever.
Ludwig is limpid and lovely in
Der Einsame im Herbst and the
orchestra play with real soul and tenderness. It’s a telling reminder
that Klemperer, who so often seemed to trade in truculence, was capable
of delicacy and refinement when required. This is Mahler at his most
haunting, and Ludwig is matchless in her control of light, shade and
line. Such comments won’t surprise those who already know this
performance, but they should give those who don’t some inkling
of the profound spell being cast here. The brass and bright, sparkling
woodwinds in
Von der Schönheit have never sounded so splendid,
and Wunderlich’s drunkard is a living, breathing creature whose
regrets and reflections emerge with rare pathos.
However it’s the long finale that transports this recording beyond
mere greatness; Klemperer’s control of rhythm and tempi are inspired
and his calibration of dynamics is a wonder to behold. Like a forest
at night the music comes alive in a tingling chorus of strange, exotic
sounds, over which Ludwig soars in pensive power. Few - if any - recordings
capture the fragility, the evanescence, of
Der Abschied better
than this, and the added
frisson of a vivid and tactile remastering
is a huge bonus. Such is the surpassing splendour of this performance
- revealed as never before - that I’m not even tempted to discuss
other more recent releases, however recommendable they might be.
In his recent review of another fine EMI collection - Boult’s
Vaughan Williams - colleague Jonathan Woolf said it ‘seems superfluous
to recommend this box’. That certainly applies here, given the
stature of these performances. This set is ridiculously cheap, but it
still feels like a quality product; also, the sturdy, LP-style box,
cardboard inner sleeves and the decent booklet - the latter with up-to-date
notes by Richard Osborne - give this reissue a delightfully retro feel.
In the past I’ve chastised EMI for their slapdash approach to
reissues, but this one demonstrates that with a little care and devotion
they could revitalise their priceless - and very profitable - archive
for a whole new generation of listeners.
Powerful, provocative, peerless; these classics have never sounded so
good.
Dan Morgan
http://twitter.com/mahlerei
Masterwork Index:
Mahler Symphonies
& Rückert-Lieder
Track-listing
CD1 [80:15]
Symphony No. 2 in C minor 'Resurrection' (1888/1896) [80:15]
Elisabeth Schwarzkopf (soprano) Hilde Rössl-Majdan (mezzo)
Philharmonia Orchestra & Chorus
rec. Kingsway Hall, London, 22-24 November 1961 & 15, 24 March 1962
CD2 [79:19]
Symphony No. 4 in G major* (1892-1900) [55:01]
Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen (Rückert-Lieder) (1901-1902)
[6:34]
Um Mitternacht (Rückert-Lieder) [5:30]
Das irdische Leben (Des Knaben Wunderhorn) (1892-1893) [3:07]
Ich atmet' einen linden Duft (Rückert-Lieder) [2:47]
Wo die schönen Trompeten blasen (Des Knaben Wunderhorn) [6:08]
* Elisabeth Schwarzkopf (soprano)
Christa Ludwig (mezzo)
Philharmonia Orchestra
rec. Kingsway Hall, 6-8,10 & 25 April 1961 (symphony), 17-19 February
1964 (songs)
CD3 [76:22]
Symphony No. 7 in E minor (1904-1906) (beginning) [76:22]
CD4 [52:44]
Symphony No. 7 in E minor (conclusion) [24:20]
Symphony No. 9 in D major (1908-1909) (beginning) [28:22]
CD5 {58:19]
Symphony No. 9 in D major (conclusion) [58:19]
New Philharmonia Orchestra
rec. Kingsway Hall, 18-21 & 24-28 September 1968 (No. 7), 15-24
February 1967 (No. 9)
CD6 [64:11]
Das Lied von der Erde (1908-1909) [64:11]
Christa Ludwig (mezzo) Fritz Wunderlich (tenor)
Philharmonia & New Philharmonia Orchestras
rec. Kingsway Hall, 19-22 February 1964; Studio 1, Abbey Road, London,
7-8 November 1964
