Editorial - Casals' Bach: An unexpected surprise


Sometimes the task of restoring remastering historic recordings is a reasonably straightforward one, the results almost entirely predictable. As our most recent transfer dates edge closer into the age of truly hi-fi recordings, in the late 1950s and into the early 1960s, there are fewer surprises and fewer disappointments. Even in the years which immediately preceded this the path is rocky - I have a recording of Mozart symphonies from around 1953 which was so shockingly badly made for LP issue that thus far it has entirely resisted any efforts to make it listenable in the 21st century.

But recordings such as those we issue this week by Peter Katin, made in 1958 and 1959 by the exceptional talents then working for the UK Decca record company, were almost guaranteed successes the moment the stylus was lowered onto the records. Admittedly I made life a little easier for myself by the use of early 1970s pressings rather than the late 1950s originals, but I suspect that the differences would have been marginal. The music itself, once lifted from its vinyl sepulchre, proved largely unwanting of much in the way of XR-style resuscitation. The patient was still alive and breathing and in remarkably fit and youthful form after 52 years or so.

Occasionally, however, my work throws up some real surprises. It's perhaps a little hard to believe, but even today with hundreds of albums remastered using the XR technique, I often have very little idea of the likely outcome of my work when I begin it. Sometimes things begin with great promise that is never quite realised, or at least not as initially expected. I'm usually searching for hidden sounds, musical frequencies buried within a recording, sonic secrets that have perhaps never been heard since the day of recording, and I suppose that sometimes they simply aren't there to be revealed - or perhaps they are so well concealed that we do not yet have the tools to unmask them.

Every so often, though, this opposite is true, and I'm able to elicit a true sonic revelation, something that just makes you sit back and say "wow!" and "how?" and then mutter similarly monosyllabic responses that have no place in a newsletter such as this.

Such an event took place this week. A few months ago I worked on Pablo Casals' famous 1937 recording of the Dvorák Cello Concerto with the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra under George Szell (PASC246). It proved a surprising success to me at the time - the tonal range of the cello seems to be particularly well suited to XR remastering from recordings of this era - and I made a mental note at the time to return to Casals sooner rather than later.

As is all too often the case, I got sidetracked by other music, became embroiled in the Furtwängler Bruckner series, and let the idea of more Casals quietly recede. Then in the last issue of Gramophone magazine a major review of all the recordings of the Dvorák concert in the current catalogue concluded that the Casals, and specifically the XR-remastered Casals on Pristine, was after some 74 years the finest recording available:

"The historic choice doubles as a first choice, a case where an early classic remains essentially musically unchallenged. Casals achieves pathos, drama and unspeakable poignancy, and the Czech PO responds vigorously to the young George Szell's alert direction"

Time, perhaps, to make good on my intentions of September 2010 and tackle the most famous of all Casals' many recordings, the Bach Cello Suites.

There was however one further, and final trigger. I was reading The Guardian newspaper online early last week and came across mention of a book by one Eric Siblin, called simply "The Cello Suites" .Siblin was, until he attended a recital of the Bach Suites, first and foremost a rock journalist, with little prior knowledge or experience of classical music. Yet the Bach captivated him, and quickly led him to the Casals recording and a musical investigation which ultimately led to a very readable book which interleaves biographies of both Bach and Casals with descriptive essays on the music, travelogue, interviews and other observations. Ultimately, though, it revolves around the Casals 78s.

Recorded between 1936 and 1939, the Casals recordings served to catapult the Suites into the public conciousness. Despite decades of public performances by the great cellist, they still had something of a reputation of being dry, dusty technical exercises. Casals' recording changed that reputation for ever, and ensured that they would finally become a part of the core repertoire some two centuries or more after they had been written.

As such these recordings have probably never been out of print. Certainly there have been multiple reissues on different labels and many efforts to remaster them. No surprises left to be had here then? Far from it. I've rarely been so completely astonished by what emerged from a recording as I have been these past few days. Some rough edges on a handful of sides aside, much of this sounds like it might have been recorded decades later - indeed when listening on a modestly capable hi-fi system designed to flatter rather than be overly analytical, you might listen to the first Suite and believe it to be a 1980s recording rather than something cut into wax three months before Hitler and Chamberlain signed the Munich Agreement.

Thanks to the low register of the cello by comparison to many solo instruments there are considerably more harmonics captured within the frequency range of the 78rpm disc. Couple this with the ability of XR to dig into the upper frequencies, all too often filtered out (XR did originally stand for just this - Xtended Range), and it seems amazing things really are possible.

To be sure I wasn't getting too carried away by this I put my efforts up against both the EMI release and the recent Naxos Historic issue (the latter being generally preferred). Both were worlds away. EMI had often bizarre background noise running through a distinctly grim and flat sound, whilst the Naxos - very well transferred it has to be said - offered none of the richness, the body, nor the upper end clarity that had been revealed here. The contrasts were quite amazing.

So why do we need another release of this recording? I've seen it written on a number of occasions by a well-known former classical record producer that there's no point in continually working away on these recordings, that a Schnabel Beethoven Sonata is always going to have the same notes played in the same way regardless of how well it's been transferred or remastered, and that we should therefore be concentrating on recordings not previously issued or reissued.

There are two answers to this. First and easiest is the business argument - put it simply recordings like this have remained in the catalogue because they continue to sell. It is highly unusual for a previously unissued recording to bring in much revenue unless, as in the case of the Stokowski Philadelphia Return Concert recording we issued last month (PASC264) it was already well-known through poor copies circulating in the 'underground'.

But I think far more important than that is the opportunity that a remastering such as this brings to hear so much more of the performances, to find oneself so much more involved, to be able to hear for the first time the finest nuances of the playing one of the world's finest cellists in his masterpiece recording is what makes it all worthwhile. To put it another way: given the choice between listening to a fine modern recording on a top-end hi-fi system. or listening to the same thing of a system with socks stuffed into the loudspeakers, which would you choose?

Have a listen to Casals' Bach Cello Suites - there's a nice long sample to download below - because someone just removed the socks from your speakers.

Andrew Rose, February 11th, 2011