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Clemens Krauss 

Strauss
Die Fledermaus
Act 1 

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PACO 001    

7th December 1955. Antonino Votto is in the pit at La Scala. On the bill: Bellini's opera Norma. With Mario Del Monaco (Pollione), Giulietta Simionato (Adalgisa). Fortunately someone, somewhere was making some kind of recording of the evening. The Italian audience was noisy and ecstatic.

There are few real golden classics of recorded music. The Busch Quartet in Beethoven and Schubert; Edwin Fischer in Bach's 48; Casals in the Bach suites for solo cello ... and a good handful of others including Maria Callas in Tosca and ... Maria Callas as Norma.

I have had the December 1955 Norma for some years (Hunt CD). I am eternally grateful to Andrew Rose (Pristine Audio) for having taken the fragile and imperfect recording in hand and having produced something to which one can listen without wincing too often. Bellini's music is sublime. Del Monaco has been bettered, as has Simionato. But Norma is about Norma, and on 7th December 1955 Norma was Maria Callas. Here, she is simply without any equal whatsoever. This is one of those recording where you forget the sound quality, you do not judge the other singers; you simply concentrate on Norma. And you throw out any other versions you may have (including two other Callas versions).

So many real golden classics of the recorded era date from the 1930s, 40s and 50s. This was the age before the itinerant musical stars took to the air to sing or play on one continent on Monday and another on Tuesday. Germans performed Wagner and Bruckner in a way that does not compare with today. Italians sang Puccini and Verdi ... and Bellini, in performances such as you no longer find when the principal tenor flies in from New York and Norma flies in from Moscow. But listen to Callas as heard on 7th December 1955 in Milan and you understand fully and completely why she was so revered and why, to this day, she still has no equal whatsoever.

 

(PACO 083,  2hr 34:37)

 

 Can a mere remastering of a favorite recording leave you in tears? In my case, with Andrew Rose's version of Paul Paray's 1953 Franck Symphony, the answer is yes. I first read about this performance in Martin Bookspan's volume on recordings of the standard repertoire, where he contrasted it with Furtwängler's nearly contemporaneous, moodier version. I was intrigued, but where was a high-school student in Wayne, New Jersey, in the 1970s to locate a copy? Lo and behold, one day the discontinued Mercury Wing LP reissue showed up in a bargain bin at the local Kmart. I've never looked back where the Franck is concerned. This is the finest version of the Symphony that I know of, going back to Stokowski's 78s, which I once owned. What Andrew Rose has done with the sound is wonderful. My LP has lots of sonic impact, but it is pitched rather sharp and displays the orchestra with a somewhat acidic quality. Rose has corrected the pitch and allowed for a far more realistic dynamic range across the frequency response. Balances are better, details are thrown into meticulous relief, and overall the orchestral color is more appealing. I really feel that I was hearing this beloved recording for the first time. And I am captivated by it.

Years ago at Tanglewood, Joseph Silverstein and André Previn were rehearsing Franck's Violin Sonata, when Previn said he couldn't stand the religiosity of Franck's Symphony. Silverstein replied that when it is played straightforwardly, without affectation, it is a very appealing piece. That essentially is the approach Paray takes. Not that there isn't a fair amount of flexibility. Paray's reading in its way remains religious, containing that lyrical French religiosity exemplified by Fauré. The wonderful Detroit brass, in particular, help to establish the sonority of a 19th-century French organ, with all the religious feeling that conveys. As the piece begins, Paray captures Franck's evocation of the opening of Liszt's Les Préludes, which Paray recorded beautifully, too. The Lento builds up with a steady inevitability. In the main section (and throughout the symphony), Paray gets a true legato from the strings, employing rubato subtly. This reminds me that two conductors Paray said were "good" for him were Schuricht and Barbirolli-both of whom could get a lyrical feeling from an orchestra. The movement's big moments have the quality of an organ improvisation, with apocalyptic overtones. The next movement is taken at a true allegretto, rather than being a slow movement. The first chairs shine, and Paray brings out a wealth of detail without any fussiness. The last movement is not rushed; Paray constructs its chords beautifully. The brass possess an authentic Gallic sound we no longer hear. This recording simply is a classic.

Considering the Ibert and Ravel, I have on hand the CD of Paray's 1962 stereo remakes of these works. The earlier 1955 performances are superior. While the 1962 renditions were captured on 35mm film and have a superior fleshy impact, the single-microphone 1955 monaural sound is better balanced and feels more musical. In Escales, Paray used slightly broader tempos in its outer movements in 1955, to splendid effect. In the first movement, the Detroit strings play with graciousness worthy of Beecham. Paray employs a wide dynamic range soaked through with color. An earthy, unhackneyed Arabian scene follows in the next movement. For "Valencia," Paray's spacious tempo allows all the festive sounds to come through without caricature.

The Ravel opens at a sultry evening rich in possibilities. The dance rhythms of the following Malagueña possess snap without haste. An indigenous elegance informs the Habanera. In the concluding "Feria," elements of the entire scene appear subtly, then coalesce. The Moorish element in the second section is richly evoked. This is distinctive Ravel.

Lastly, Chabrier's España gets a brilliantly virtuosic performance, with its tricky rhythms always lucid. It comes from the same session as the Ibert and Ravel but is better engineered; did the Mercury team move the microphone, or did the orchestra's seating arrangement change? Perhaps this simply is a mastering issue with the LP source Andrew Rose used.

I regret that I do not have Paray's stereo versions of the Franck and Chabrier on hand for comparison. If you are looking for stereo recordings of this repertoire, I would recommend Pierre Monteux or Andrew Davis in the Franck, Leopold Stokowski in the Ibert, Yan Pascal Tortelier in the Ravel, and Eugene Ormandy in the Chabrier. But anyone who loves Franck's Symphony will want to hear Andrew Rose's CD. Harold Gomberg, longtime principal oboe of the New York Philharmonic, listed Paray among the five best conductors he ever played for. This CD will leave you in no doubt why.  

(PASC 346, 71:07)