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Brahms

Piano Concerto #2  

Vladimir Horowitz
NBC Symphony Orch.
Arturo Toscanini  

19 February 1945 

Transfered from only known acetate disc copy of the unbroadcast Carnegie Hall benefit concert - one of the rarest of Toscanini recordings.

   

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PASC 171 

These are two great performances from wartime Berlin. The Brahms is perhaps the more famous of the two. It is notable for the unity of concept between Fischer and Furtw�ngler. There is none of the stitchwork that often occurs when the soloist dominates, then the conductor. A few months earlier, on June 21, 1942, Furtw�ngler conducted the Brahms Fourth Symphony with a feeling and design similar to the concerto performance, so we may assume that the conductor's role in the collaboration with Fischer was by no means insubstantial. In the first movement, Fischer and Furtw�ngler introduce themselves with power and authority. The orchestra plays incredibly beautifully. Despite fluffs, Fischer's tone quality hearkens back to the pianists of the early 20th century, a sound we no longer hear. The softer passages in the movement have a rich feeling of mystery.

In the next movement, the sense of appassionato is created without the slashing, rigid rhythms we so often encounter. Instead, soloist and orchestra engage in subtle manipulations of tempo. The whole movement has a romantic sentiment like a Chopin ballade, with a characteristic rush to the finish. In the Andante, cellist Arthur Troester plays with a woodsy tone that produces an autumnal sentiment for the start of the movement. Fischer's sound quality here would suit a Chopin nocturne, with a rounded tone and vast coloristic resources. One has the sense that this movement is about a frustrated love story, both sad and reflective. At the movement's end, Fischer is content to accompany Troester, and the effect is immensely bittersweet. The grazioso mood in the last movement is created without sharp accents; rather, an overall feeling of legato phrasing is maintained. After the emotional upheaval of the first three movements, we recognize here that life goes on, although not without apprehension. Thus ends a unique Brahms Second Concerto.

The Schumann recording is important as a document of Gieseking's way with the concerto. In 1953, he made a studio recording of it with Karajan and the Philharmonia, but the recorded balance favors the orchestra so much that one frequently can't tell what Gieseking is doing. In 1942, the piano can be heard much more clearly, and its tone quality is recognizably that of Gieseking as heard on his solo recordings of the 1950s. Furtw�ngler here is an ideal accompanist. Elisabeth Schwarzkopf said of Furtw�ngler's opera conducting that the singers always knew they had time to breathe. The same is true for Gieseking in this concerto: All his phrases are beautifully rounded; nothing ever becomes clipped out of a need to stay together with the orchestra. When rehearsing for his 1953 recording of Schumann's Fourth Symphony, Furtw�ngler repeatedly told the orchestra, "Always sing, it's all song!" That same feeling informs the concerto.

In the first movement, Gieseking's tone is deeply lyrical, conveying loss and remembrance. He never rushes. The luminous string sound blends superbly with the piano, and the principal clarinet plays especially beautifully. The cadenza, at times, is ferociously virtuosic. In the next movement, the andantino grazioso marking is realized with considerable delicacy. The B section has a gorgeous use of rubato between piano and orchestra, rich in romantic feeling. The transition to the last movement is especially elegant, with a touch of mystery. In the Allegro vivace, Gieseking articulates particularly clearly, even in soft passages. Nothing is breathless about the tempo. Furtw�ngler's accompaniment here possesses a wistful quality, challenging but never overwhelming the soloist. This is a major statement of the Schumann.

Andrew Rose has given us highly agreeable remasterings of these recordings. The violin sound in the Schumann is not quite as rich as in the Brahms, but there is nothing distracting about it. I hope Rose will consider remastering Furtw�ngler's wartime recordings of Ernst Pepping's Second Symphony and Heinz Schubert's Hymnisches Konzert, both interesting compositions. If you are looking for digital recordings of the concertos, I would recommend Maurizio Pollini and Claudio Abbado in Berlin for the Brahms, and Israela Margalit with Bryden Thomson for the Schumann. I hope that the Phase 4 Brahms with Ilana Vered and Anatole Fistoulari appears on CD. Fischer and Gieseking should interest anyone who loves these concertos and doesn't mind monaural sound. I can't think of better interpretations.  

PASC 347  (77:26)

 

 This set consists of recording sessions held in Carnegie Hall between November 1951 and November 1952. All have appeared twice in RCA CD editions, the second set offering re-equalized transfers having a slightly brighter sound. Both were fine for their time. Now Pristine offers them in sound drawn from the original LPs that boasts a slightly wider dynamic range and the insertion (tastefully minimal) of synthetic reverberation that adds just a bit of air around a mono sonic ambiance that remains impressive. Purists may object to this technical manipulation, but most listeners will probably find it unobtrusive and even beneficial.

Toscanini once commented, "After Beethoven, Brahms's symphonies are first." And as was typical of composers he deeply admired, his view of their work often varied from one presentation to the next. This is especially true with this recording of the Symphony No.1. It comprises a straightforward, rhythmically taut account boasting rock-steady pulse and more retouching of Brahms's orchestration than in any of the Maestro's previous efforts with the score. It is certainly commanding, but, solely on the basis of performance, I would choose his May 6, 1940, NBC Carnegie Hall broadcast (Naxos 8.119805-6) as his most arresting account in its blend of tension, rhythmic suppleness, and cumulative power. The Second and Fourth symphonies are both distinguished, the finale of No. 2 unfolding with greater breadth and more sustained intensity than in any of the conductor's other surviving efforts. Although I would choose Toscanini's 1948 broadcast of the Fourth Symphony as the best of his NBC accounts (IMG 5 62939), this studio effort of three years later with its slightly faster tempos is almost as good and benefits from considerably better sound. Toscanini gave many great performances of the Symphony No. 3, but this one is not among them, its pacing in outer movements being painfully slow and uncharacteristic of what he could achieve with this work, especially in his unreleased 1948 NBC broadcast or his magnificent Philharmonia Orchestra concert performance (Testament SBT 3167). All in all, then, this release may not be for those already owning these performances. But for anyone seeking them for the first time, it has much to offer.  

PASC 349, (156:17)

 

 This is the second half of Felix Weingartner's London Brahms symphony cycle. The First and Second symphonies were reviewed in Fanfare 35: 1. Those performances date from 1939 and 1940, respectively, and were also split between the London Symphony Orchestra and the London Philharmonic. Pristine's Andrew Rose did the remastering from U.K. Columbia 78s, and reviewing that disc in 35:1, I was so bowled over by Rose's restorations and by Weingartner's electrifying readings that when I saw this companion CD advertised, I had to have it.

Weingartner made these in-studio recordings of the Brahms symphonies in almost reverse order. He began with No. 4 on February 14, 1938, and followed it with No. 3 on October 6, 1938. Nos. 1 and 2, in that order, came a year apart, in February 1939 and February 1940, completing the project before the German bombing blitz on London began in September of that year.

Like the First and Second symphonies, the Third and Fourth are also taken from U.K. Columbia 78s, and even though they're of slightly earlier vintage, whatever Rose has done to achieve such astonishingly vivid sound is nothing short of miraculous.

Everything I said in my review of Weingartner's Brahms First and Second could be repeated here. His tempo for the first movement of the Third Symphony is a good deal faster than we tend to hear it in modern performances. But the kinetic energy and dramatic drive Weingartner generates leads to massively powerful climaxes. It's only part of the story, however, to single out the first movement. Tempos across the board tend to be swift and informed by some sort of primordial, premonitory force. Listen, for example, to the last movement. Weingartner finds a demonic fury in this music I've heard no other conductor match.

With this kind of dark and violent message in the Third Symphony, where does Weingartner go in the Fourth? Curiously, not where you might think, at least not at first. His tempo for the opening movement is quite moderate, no faster really than what we hear in most modern performances, and while the music isn't exactly what I'd call playful, Weingartner keeps it mostly light and transparent, emphasizing the lyrical elements of the score and interpreting Brahms's non troppo marking to apply not just to the Allegro tempo but to the general character of the movement.

Even the funeral, Phrygian-based second movement avoids a leaden tread and mournful mien. The first entry of the bowed strings at bar 30, for example, immerses you in a flood of caressing, sensuous warmth. Devastation and desolation are saved for the last movement, that shattering chaconne/passacaglia, which gains enormously in its implacable malevolent determination as a result of the previous movements downplaying the hint of catastrophe to come.

Once again, Andrew Rose should be credited for having accomplished nothing short of a miracle in remastering these recordings. There are truly moments when you forget you're listening to anything other than a brand-new, modern recording. But beyond Rose's contribution, if you care at all about Brahms, these recordings are obligatory for your collection. Felix Weingartner is one of the closest and most important direct links to the composer who lived long enough into the age of recording technology to have recorded Brahms's symphonies at a time when 78s had reached state-of-the-art conditions. It's not a word I often use, but Weingartner may be the definitive Brahms interpreter. A mandatory acquisition.  

PASC 334, (67: 28)