Stepping aside from this column for a week or two

So many reviews - letting someone else do the talking 

This week I've received so many new reviews that I simply can't fit them all in down the left hand side of the newsletter, so I decided that after a few words on this week's new releases I'd let the reviewers take this column over for a week or two. It's worth saying too that if you value the opinions of the reviewers than the Fanfare Archive is an excellent online subscription to invest in, with or without a copy of the printed edition. There are currently 241 reviews of Pristine releases there, which must be almost half of everything we've ever released, as well of course as thousands of others. I've never managed to squeeze all of Fanfare's reviews into this newsletter - so the online archive is a great place to start reading about our releases from unbiased reviewers!

This week sees a third instalment in Furtwängler's Brahms - from a concert which was his final performance in Berlin we have an excellent Third Symphony, a work Furtwängler said he only began to understand at the end of his life, and which John Ardoin in his book "The Furtwängler Record" regards as his most successful recorded version. It's coupled with the legendary Menuhin recording of the Violin Concerto in Lucerne, which Furtwängler conducted in 1949 for EMI, who were battling with their new tape machines at the time. I've managed to tame a good deal of the gritty-sounding flutter for this release. The aforementioned Mr. Ardoin reckons this to be one of Furtwängler's finest ever moments in the studio.

We also have the majority of a Cantelli concert from 1954. Missing is the Ravel Boléro, which despite an apparent appearance on an Italian CD in 1990, both Carnegie Hall and the New York Philharmonic assure us was neither broadcast nor recorded. It's a shame that Boléro doesn't exist as Cantelli's really on fire for the rest of the concert - it's a really great example of what a brilliant conductor he promised to be.

Now for the reviews, as promised:



BAX Viola Sonata (1) Nonet (2) Mater ora Filium (3) *
1:William Primrose (va); Harriet Cohen (pn);
2:Griller Qrt; Victor Watson (db); Joseph Slater (fl); Frederick Thurston (cl); Leon Goossens (ob); Maria Korchinska (hp);
3: Leslie Woodgate, cond; BBC Ch * PRISTINE 081 (53:05)

In equal measure, Pristine's historical remasters continue to amaze and dismay. The dismaying ones have been so poor that in some cases it might be legitimately questioned if they should ever have been made, while the amazing ones have been so good that in some cases they've seemed to surpass even the most recent recordings. This Bax program comes somewhere near the top end of that range; it's in the very, very good to excellent category.
Everything here was recorded in 1937 (the sonata and nonet) and 1938 (the Mater ora Filium) and transferred from U.S. Columbia Masterworks set M-386. Transfers were made by Andrew Rose.
William Primrose is practically synonymous with the viola. Along with Lionel Tertis, he is generally considered the most important player of the instrument in the first half of the 20th century, and though Bax dedicated his sonata to Tertis and made the first recording of it with him in 1929, Primrose's playing of the piece with Harriet Cohen, Bax's lover for 40 years, must have had special resonance for the composer. The current performance has appeared in transfers at least twice before that I know of, once on a Dutton CD (9751) and again on a Doremi CD (7708). Having heard neither of them, I can't make comparisons, but knowing the scrupulous attention to detail that Rose brings to each of his releases, I can't imagine that either the Dutton or the Doremi surpasses, let alone equals, this Pristine transfer. Is it perfect? No. The sound is a bit distant or recessed and the piano, in particular, sounds a bit muffled, but considering the source and age of the original recording, the fidelity is exceptional, as is the performance. Bax's music, in general, tends to be an acquired taste, but his 1922 Viola Sonata is one of his more accessible and immediately attractive works.

The same can't really be said of the composer's 1930 Nonet, which is actually a thoroughgoing rearrangement of his 1928 Fourth Violin Sonata. The work hasn't received a lot of attention on disc, though the Nash Ensemble tackled it for Hyperion in 1995. Musically, the piece seems to inhabit a nocturnal world of shadowy landscapes and creatures both creepy and comical. It's a piece that reverberates with echoes of Schoenberg's Verklärte Nacht. To hear this transfer from 1937 78s, you wouldn't know the recording wasn't made yesterday; it's that good. The Griller Quartet, of course, is practically legendary, and joined here by five additional players, including the incomparable oboist Leon Goosens, the ensemble clear-cuts a path through Bax's not-so-enchanted forest that lets the sun shine through the score's flora and fauna.
The Mater ora Filium (Mother Pray Thy Son) is not a piece I was familiar with, though it has been recorded a number of times. The piece is based on an old carol from a manuscript at Oxford's Balliol College. Bax's setting of the words is quite polyphonic and dense, providing a number of challenges for the unaccompanied singers (one of which is the high C that some of the sopranos have to hold, fortissimo for three bars, at one climactic point). Rose notes that "the piece was recorded at a significantly higher level than the rest of the album and some blasting during louder sections had to be dealt with, particularly during the final side. On the plus side this louder recording did eventually allow for a much lower noise floor after processing than in either of the instrumental works."

If you're into Bax-and I realize not everyone is-this is a winning release. You may hear one or another of these works in somewhat improved sound (though not by much) on more recent recordings, but you won't hear them better performed. Jerry Dubins

This article originally appeared in Issue 35:6 (July/Aug 2012) of Fanfare Magazine.



BEETHOVEN Bagatelles, opp. 33, 119, 126; WoO 59, "Für Elise"
Artur Schnabel (pn) * PRISTINE 49 (60: 01)

Having been unlucky enough to not have heard any of Pristine's remasterings of the Schnabel Beethoven sonatas, I now catch the label on the back end with the issue of the bagatelle recordings. These were taken, I am informed, not from 78-rpm discs but from the "Great Recordings of the Century" LP transfers, two series from the early 1960s and the third from 1982, which remastering engineer Andrew Rose says had much less surface noise than their 78 counterparts.

I will take him at his word. Suffice it to say that Schnabel's piano has never sounded so good. I was unlucky enough to start my Schnabel listening experience not with the GROTC LPs of the '60s but with the rather thin and noisy transfers that Seraphim did of the Schnabel series in the 1970s.
As for the performances, they still hold up surprisingly well, as of course do most of Schnabel's sonata recordings. Just for interest's sake, I compared his performances to the exceptional modern performances by Linda Nicholson on the fortepiano (Accent 24180). The comparison is extremely interesting. Both performers use the sort of quirky little rhythmic figures and occasional luftpausen that make this music come alive. One might almost point to Schnabel as the inspiration for Nicholson's interpretation. If, in the end, I come down more in favor of Nicholson, it is not because of the modern digital sonics but due to the astonishing range of color she is able to draw from her instrument. Using the damper pedal to creative effect, Nicholson evokes an astonishingly varied array of sound colors from her instrument, which make the varied strands of the music emerge in a more interesting way. I also prefer her album because it contains extra pieces, such as the Andante favori, Alla Ingharese Quasi un Capriccio in G, and two of the Klavierstücke (WoO 60 and 61), which the Schnabel disc does not.

That, however, is not an indictment against Schnabel. At least five generations (if not more) of Beethoven pianists are either in his debt or in his dust when it comes to Beethoven. Although several later pianists excel him in certain individual sonatas (among them Egon Petri, Friedrich Gulda, John O'Conor, and Craig Sheppard), he was, and remains, the most consistent Beethoven pianist in terms of his long-range vision of the sonatas. As for the bagatelles, they are "extras" in the catalog of the composer's piano music, delightful excursions not to be missed, but not on the same high level. Yet when performers of great imagination such as Schnabel or Nicholson take them up, the results can be, and usually are, very close to magical. Needless to say, Pristine's restoration of Schnabel's piano tone-with the sole exception of the distantly recorded 1932 "Fur Elise"-is absolutely remarkable. The instrument has consistently more body to it, and overall the recordings sound more like the late 1940s.

Lynn René Bayley

This article originally appeared in Issue 35:6 (July/Aug 2012) of Fanfare Magazine.

BEETHOVEN Piano Concertos: No. 4; No. 5, "Emperor"

Clifford Curzon (pn); Hans Knappertsbusch, cond; Vienna PO

PRISTINE PASC318 (73:02)  

 

These 1954 (No. 4) and 1957 (No. 5) monaural studio recordings have been remastered into stereo by the master-of-remastering, Andrew Rose, under the renowned Pristine label. The featured artists, Clifford Curzon and Hans Knappertsbusch, are masterly performers from the past. I have been an admirer of Curzon's playing, but a very neglectful admirer because I own none of his very few recordings. I have never liked what little I've heard of Knappertsbusch's conducting except for that on an old vinyl disc set of Die Meistersinger- a remnant of my previous life as a Wagnerphile. Andrew Rose has sparked in me a reassessment, not of Wagner but of Knappertsbusch, and a reappreciation of Curzon.  

 

Curzon's phrase shaping and passagework are noteworthy, and Knappertsbusch's command of the orchestra enabling detail to be heard without overwhelming the piano is especially appreciated. The Vienna Philharmonic's violin sections, however, are, while adequate, not of the high quality encountered in today's best orchestras.  

 

Curzon's quiet solo entry to begin the first movement of the Fourth Concerto is truly poetic, presaging the character of the entire movement. Knappertsbusch is suitably responsive, allowing the fine orchestral detail to be heard in lyrical response. The orchestra enters strongly to begin the unusual second movement, and Curzon responds in quiet reverence. This pattern changes, as the orchestra diminishes its prominence, and the piano takes command-in the style of responsive reading. Curzon and Knappertsbusch trade roles of dominance and subordinance as the movement progresses. Curzon is enthralling in the impressionistic solo passages from bar 56 through bar 63. This is as good as the classic treatment found in the Artur Schnabel/Malcolm Sargent recording of the 1930s. The final movement is exuberant and well articulated. Curzon's legato is especially noteworthy.  

 

As good as the Fourth Concerto is, the "Emperor" is even better. Curzon's bold entry at the start of the first movement employs rubato very carefully as a foreshadowing of the movement's majesty to come. Knappertsbusch controls the orchestra superbly to reveal the movement's great detail. Revelation of the "Emperor"'s dominance among concertos is shared equally here by both pianist and conductor. Knappertsbusch's reverential opening of the second movement is complemented by Curzon's poetic entry. This magnificent combination pervades the movement. Curzon is unmatched here, except possibly by Artur Schnabel. The final movement is worthy of the "Emperor"'s crown as Curzon and Knappertsbusch in concinnity tame its tempestuous exuberance to conclude a grand musical experience.  

 

This classic combination of pianist and conductor, recorded almost 60 years ago, belongs in everyone's collection. Courtesy Andrew Rose and associates, it is a sonic marvel for its age (although there is occasional orchestral blurring); courtesy Curzon and Knappertsbusch, it is a marvelous musical experience.  

 

Burton Rothleder

This article originally appeared in Issue 35:6 (July/Aug 2012) of Fanfare Magazine



Mozart -  Requiem Mass in D minor, K626 (rev. Beecham)
Elsie Morison soprano
Monica Sinclair contralto
Alexander Young tenor
Marian Nowakowski bass
BBC Chorus dir. Leslie Woodgate

Schubert - Symphony No. 5 in B flat major, D485

Royal Philharmonic Orchestra
Sir Thomas Beecham conductor

Here under review is a 1954-56 studio recording made by EMI at Walthamstow Assembly Hall with the Royal Philharmonic and the BBC Chorus under Sir Thomas Beecham, now beautifully restored by Andrew Rose. Although it was re-released on the Fontana (Philips) label, as well as a few "private" labels, it seems to have been largely forgotten - unjustly so, because Beecham leads an deeply sympathetic performance with expressive singing from the chorus and a magnificent quartet of soloists. As it sounds on Pristine's 24-bit Ambient Stereo download, the orchestra is present, but well-blended in the reverberation, the chorus a bit more distant and less clear (The Latin text is not always distinct: a Gramophone review found it not comprehensible at all.), and the soloists forward and vivid. All the forces come together most attractively in the generous ambiance - and it serves Sir Thomas' renowned orchestral balances very well. It is amusing to read the early Gramophone reviewer's praise of the weight lent by the acoustic and Sir Thomas' manipulations of the orchestration, including the addition of an organ, and, if I hear correctly, horns in some of the choral movements. This is a far cry from the small forces and sharp-edged sound we are accustomed to today in this music. I have seen a mention of an edition of the Requiem prepared by Beecham early in his career, but I have not yet found our anything substantial. It is not mentioned in Lucas' biography.

In the Introit, Sir Thomas grounds the flow of the voices with a strong accent in the bass, establishing a dignified but steady pace through the movement. Throughout the work, he never allows the music to lose its backbone in melancholy dreaming. His years of experience as an opera conductor - one of the greatest - show through in the strongly shaped, rhythmically decisive phrasing of the soloists and all the rest. A subtle rhythmic spring never compromises the seriousness, breadth, or mood of the Requiem. The Kyrie fugue is massive but animated, and, although it is richly enveloped in reverberation, as it might be in a church, the lines are clear enough. The first section of the Sequence, the Dies irae is rapid, molto agitato, with bite in the string articulation. In the second, Tuba mirum, the trombone obbligato is large in scale and loud, most definitely a solemn awakening. The bass, Marian Nowakowski, was a highly respected operatic bass, who became a fixture at Covent Garden and in oratorio performances under conductors like Barbirolli after getting his start in the Polish Army Choir during the War. The resonance of his voice is quite remarkable in this performance, as is his variety of color. It should be no surprise that Boris Godunov and Sarastro are among the roles he is best remembered for. Alexander Young, tenor, Monica Sinclair contralto, and Elsie Morison, soprano - all Beecham regulars - make beautiful entrances, expressive in his particular operatic version of the British oratorio tradition. The solo quartet continues to be a joy to hear, and the Recordare is most affecting. The choral singing, the balance and clarity of its textures (although not the diction in this case!), leave nothing to be desired in the Confutatis, which is followed by a full-blooded Romantic Lacrimosa.

With the Offertory we are in Süssmayr waters, and it is up to the conductor and his forces to render the score with sufficient conviction to mask the clumsiness of his writing. Beecham is not the only conductor to bring this off successfully, but he does it with passion. The truth is, that if we were to hear these movements by themselves, without those with a documented Mozartian component, we would probably not even recognize them as music associated with Mozart. Beecham keeps it up most of the way, but one can't help getting the feeling that he begins to flag a bit in the Agnus Dei, and in the reprise of Mozart's Introit and Kyrie in the Communion/Lux aeterna - an uninspired recycling of great music in an inappropriate textual context - boredom seems to creep in. Sir Thomas was, after all, renowned for his intolerance of mediocrity. After three hearings this is still my impression. The recorded sound is also more distant and lacking in detail. With its inferior sound, it's hard to imagine that it was the part made in 1956. They must have done that final bit after a pub lunch. Now just where could a gentleman go for a drink on that suburban civic campus, on superficial examination the closest thing in England to Albert Speer's German Pavilion at the 1937 Paris Exposition or perhaps the Moscow State University? (In fact the Town Hall and the Assembly Hall were built between 1937 and 1942 to P. D. Hepworth's design "in the Swedish style of c. 1925 which became so popular in England amongst those who were not satisfied to be imitatively Neo-Georgian nor wanted to go modern in earnest," as Pevsner commented.) In all seriousness, the funding of Beecham's recordings was sometimes precarious, often provided by the Maestro himself, and that may account for the delay of almost eighteen months between the main two sessions and that final one.

This shouldn't discourage anyone from buying. It is only Beecham's inner integrity at work. The recording is as essential as any of Bruno Walter's. The Pristine release includes Beecham's classic EMI recording of Schubert's Fifth Symphony, made in stereo in 1958. Even in its initial release, the sound was a fine example of early EMI stereo at its best, and essential listening for anyone who wants to understand Beecham's characteristic approach to orchestral balances. Andrew Rose has improved a good thing, removing the second-order harmonic distortion which gave the violins a slightly glassy edge, reducing noise, and enhancing directionality and space. If that splendid performance of the Requiem isn't enough for you, this should close the deal. (Pristine also offers a fascinating curiosity, a performance of the Requiem in the grand Italian operatic style from a 1950 Edinburgh Festival broadcast with the La Scala Orchestra and Chorus under Guido Cantelli, with Tebaldi, Barbieri, Prandelli, and Siepi singing the solo parts!).

Michael Miller

The Berkshire Review, May 30, 2012 (excerpt) (link)



This is just a fraction of what's on my desk this week! There's more to the left of this column and more that I hope to squeeze in next week. Until then, happy listening!

 

 

Andrew Rose
1 June 2012