A FREE 128k MP3

Bruckner

Symphony #7  

Berlin Philharmonic
Wilhelm Furtwängler    

Live in Berlin, October 1949   

This, the earliest complete recording of the Bruckner 7 by Furtwängler is also generally regarded as his finest. Here an extensive clean up and 32-bit XR remastering reveals astounding sound quality from deep, clear bass to a crisp and brilliant top end - sensational!    

Download it now - for one week only - it's only free from our Cover Page!

"UPGRADE" to full quality lossless 16-bit or 24-bit FLAC downloads with notes here:

PASC 259 

Benno Moiseiwitsch (1890-1963) continues to justify his repute as composer Sergei Rachmaninov's favorite pianist, especially in the music of that master himself, recorded 1937-1948, when Moiseiwitsch was playing at the height of his powers.  Most impressive, this  Odessa-born pianist exerts a virtually seamless lyricism and power, thoroughly secure technically and beautifully nuanced.  The F-sharp Minor Concerto (rec. 23 December 1948) certainly propels us forward, the restored sound by Andrew Rose especially pungent. The last movement, with its knotty metrics that extend into 9/8 before the thrilling coda, pose no obstacles for Moiseiwitsch, who  produces a singing tone in the midst of the most gnarled layers of sound.

Perhaps the most exciting collaboration on this rarified disc, the C Minor Concerto (rec. 24 November & 19 December 1937) opens with a massive pendulum of block chords from Moiseiwitsch, and the familiar melodies burst forth that culminate in the thunderous crescendo between piano and orchestra known to every music-lover. The otherwise under-rated Walter Goehr (1903-1960), most noted for his work with Noel Mewton-Wood, achieves his own majesty of sound in this potent inscription. The LPO cello sound emerges in full regalia, rendering the second and third movements particularly lush.

No less an unabashed pleasure, the Paganini Rhapsody (rec. 5 December 1938) under Cameron moves at a spectacularly breathless pace, Moiseiwitsch deliberately approaching the violin's spiccati and glissandi in pianistic terms. Besides the innate drama created by the music's architecture, culminating in an extended and mysterious love-scene at Variation 18, the final set reaches beyond its own virtuosity to imitate the pyrotechnics of Paganini in the throes of the Devil's own possession, the Dies Irae blazing while the keyboard leaps in explosive figures. That the performance of 1937 still proves hair-raising testifies to an endurance beyond the mere notes.  Any devotee of Rachmaninov's romantic style and virtuosic keyboard wizardry will covet these priceless Moiseiwitsch restorations.  

PASC 358  (78:19)

 

There's a delightful photograph in Barbara Owen's biography of E. Power Biggs that shows the august British-born organist at the console of his 1958 Flentrop organ, a tracker-actioned instrument. He smiles over his right shoulder, whilst to Biggs's right the young Daniel Pinkham sits at his Hess organ, an eighteenth century Dutch instrument loaned by a private individual, Charles Fisher, for the recording of the Soler concertos which are to be heard in this disc. It appears that Biggs had long known the concertos, and indeed had gone so far as to record himself on tape playing both organ and harpsichord parts. But it was when he acquired the use of the Flentrop organ that he consented to a commercial recording with Pinkham. You can read the specifications in the biography and can also read how Biggs subsequently tinkered with it, adding so called convertible stops. Organ aficionados will have a field day.
 
Biggs was a much admired musician and recorded heavily almost to the end of his life. His three-manual Flentrop was installed in Harvard University, where the recording took place. The stereo spatiality works very well in the circumstances, and there was sufficient distance between the two instruments: the LP carried a helpful note, reproduced in this CD's transfer note, that Biggs is heard on the left channel and Pinkham on the right. Biggs brings all his experience of these works to bear and is well partnered by Pinkham who had been a guest on Biggs' radio programme. There is great buoyancy and contrasting sonorities throughout, brisk and bright voicings in the A minor Concerto (No.2) and even occasionally some fractious dialogues between the two instruments. Folkloric elements haunt much Spanish music of the period and Soler was no exception; the Minuet finale of No.2 is almost harmonium like in this respect. Whether inclining to more academic workouts or jovially spinning jaunty marches, the performances are admirable. In particular there is the droll aspect of the music, so deftly projected.
 
When Biggs went on a European tour he made a series of recordings of his performances in various churches using portable equipment he'd shipped over from America. The results were good in the circumstances but clearly pitch instability was a problem and, as Andrew Rose, relates, hum too. He has dealt with these problems, adding reverberation. The music was long thought to be by Bach, indeed given BWV numbers, but it's now believed that the Eight Little Preludes and Fugues were written by Bach's student Johann Tobias Krebs. Biggs plays them on the various organs with great dexterity and assurance, unfussy and direct musicianship, devoid of show. He always followed his revered teacher Cunningham in being a truly musical organist, never one given to flashy displays of temperament.
 
Slightly off the beaten track though this may be, I enjoyed these restorations greatly.   

PAKM 050, (77:40)

 

Although previous issues going back to 1987 are fine, EMI managed to botch its 2002 re-mastering of this famous recording in their Great Recordings of the Century series, which is muffled, with all the upper frequencies removed. I found a very acceptable alternative in an issue on the Alto label which retains a little background hiss but no more than I would expect from a 1959 recording transferred from LPs, the very occasional click being in evidence. However, this Pristine transfer from clean LPs is now easily the best option: some slight sharpness in the LPs has been corrected, all clicks removed and the now celebrated Pristine Audio XR re-mastering treatment by Andrew Rose has rendered it superlative: warm, clear and spacious. The original EMI engineering was in any case always very good indeed.
 
For all its fame and excellence, there are reasons to deny this account the epithet "perfect" - but a heck of a lot is very right indeed, starting with Giulini's magisterial direction, which is sprung, flexible and subtle, with none of the excessive leisureliness which sometimes afflicted his later conducting. The Philharmonia Orchestra is simply wonderful.
 
The cast is superb, though I have reservations about a couple of things, starting with Taddei's tendency to ham it up too much with some nasal affectations and barking to accentuate things that are already intrinsically funny and are better delivered in a sly rather than a histrionic manner. He also loses tonal quality too often, such as in an ugly sustained D on "maestosa". Nonetheless, he is a good foil to Wächter's silky Don in their quick-fire exchanges, despite their voices being too similar in recitative if you are used to a bass such as Siepi or Ghiaurov as the Don. Wächter is aggressive, driven and able to signal that he is deliberately and cynically turning on the seductive charm to further his sex addiction. Many will welcome a baritone Don as more appropriate both to the tessitura of the music and the character of opera's favourite roué.
 
Sutherland's Donna Anna is a surprise and simply the best on record: agile, huge and gorgeous of tone and even well characterised in so far as it is possible to enliven such a starchy soul. The contrast with Schwarzkopf's febrile Elvira is telling; she had already been singing this role for a decade and it suited her voice and talents ideally. Luigi Alva sings with both more beauty of line and steel in his tone than I had remembered. Sciutti is average as Zerlina, Cappuccilli hectoring as Masetto and the great Gottlob Frick very unsteady indeed in the opening scene - but he warms up nicely for an appropriately chilling and sepulchral Commendatore in the crucial final showdown.

As is normally the case with Pristine, there is little in the booklet apart from the tracking cues, excerpts from a "Gramophone" review of a previous issue and a note from the engineer; otherwise one may go online for full programme notes. What is presumably a printing error on the spine of my review copies suggests that the catalogue number is 077; however, on the reverse covers, the discs themselves and the Pristine website the three discs are is listed as 078A, B and C.  

PACO 078, (2h42m)

 

Although the words "historic" and "classic" are all too often used to describe any recording more than a few years old which might still be worth hearing they apply with all their original force to this set. Everything came together in the studio to produce a version which grips the listener from start to finish, with no hint of routine, every phrase characterised to perfection, and real theatrical tension. This is due above all to the conductor, Victor de Sabata, who ensures urgency, clarity and apparent spontaneity throughout. Callas and Gobbi are heard at the peak of their form, and comparison with their stereo version in 1964 shows a sad coarsening in both of their performances allied with routine conducting from Georges Prêtre. Even Giuseppe Di Stefano, a very variable artist, is heard at something like his best in the 1953 version; he was replaced by Carlo Bergonzi in the later version.
 
Understandably this 1953 version has been frequently reissued, and not only EMI but also Naxos, Regis, Brilliant, and probably many others, have it in their catalogues. Andrew Rose, who re-mastered the present version, explains that he felt that a new transfer could only be justified if it brought something really special and new to distinguish it from earlier versions. I have not been able to compare it directly with those others but I accept that what is heard here is much more clear and comfortable to listen to as well as more convincing than those I have heard previously. The sound of the voices has astonishing realism, although their closeness can be a little wearing at times, and re-hearing does increase my incomprehension at the ineffectual realisation of the "effects" built into the score in respect of the cannon shot in the first Act, the closing of the window in the second, and the rifle volley in the third. These are part of the score, not extraneous to it, but were treated almost apologetically by Walter Legge, the producer of the set.
 
That is however a common problem with all reissues of this reading. One version or another should be in the collection of any Puccini enthusiast, and I can only say that I have had considerable pleasure from this re-mastering. Memories can be unreliable but this is certainly much superior in my memory to the original discs. There are however two irritations which may make you prefer one of the other reissues. The first - the lack of a libretto or translation - is of minor importance when they are easily available either online or elsewhere. The second is more serious. When the whole opera lasts less than two hours, it seems unfortunate as well as unnecessary to divide Act Two between the two discs. Other versions on CD have Acts Two and Three on the second disc. The change here comes immediately after Vissi d'arte. Admittedly, in the theatre, all too often the tension is dissipated with applause but a gap here is something I can do without when listening at home. Whether this is likely to bother you I cannot say. Certainly if it does not this must be accounted a very fine transfer of a performance which can properly be described as historic and a classic.  

PACO 080, (1hr 47:58)