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Bruckner

Symphony #7  

Berlin Philharmonic
Wilhelm Furtw�ngler    

Live in Berlin, October 1949   

This, the earliest complete recording of the Bruckner 7 by Furtw�ngler 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!    

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PASC 259 

When the 3 October 1949 performance of the Beethoven Symphony No. 2 from Albert Hall, London, Wilhelm Furtwaengler conducting, appeared for the first time in 1979, music collectors hailed it for its historical completion of "The Nine" with Furtwaengler, a document that, despite its poor sound quality, enhanced our knowledge of this epic interpreter's vision of the Beethoven symphonic oeuvre. Restoration engineer Andrew Rose has herein completed a meticulous upgrade of the original masters, utilizing his XR process, and presents us a virile studied rendition of the D Major Symphony, noted for its especially lovely second movement Larghetto which Berlioz much admired. Despite some of the lower frequency details having been lost, the interior rhythmic subtlety of the opening Adagio molto stands out, the pregnant dialogue of flute and strings, particularly. When the potency of the Beethoven personality does break forth to leave the niceties of the Haydn world behind, the explosions compel our awe at the emotional ferocity unleashed, and we might regret that Furtwaengler does not take the first movement repeat, the only such elision in his reading of this score. The ease of execution and tonal responsiveness of the VPO - Furtwaengler's "mistress" - testify to the sheer virtuosity of this ensemble when urged by a convinced interpreter.

The songfulness of the Larghetto movement commands the price of admission, the emotional heart of the symphony and little indebted in its distribution of voices to models from Mozart or Haydn. A bit of Furtwaengler's willful character emerges in his individual rubato, but his players interact well within his lyrico-dramatic parameters. Somewhat more mercurial in its changing moods than when interpreted by other conductors, the movement offers militant and sometimes exalted visions of an alternative world. The most mischievous of Beethoven's Scherzos follows, acerbic even in its relative brevity. Furtwaengler balances a marcato approach with sudden onrushes of pent-up energy. The bassoon work in the Trio complements the big-hearted warmth in the VPO string line. The Allegro molto finale enjoys an unbuttoned momentum that lacks neither warmth nor power, and the upward rockets from the VPO strings provide a lesson in orchestral discipline in itself. Furtwaengler's dionysiac coda plays with the meter and the drama but the result quite intoxicates our repeated auditions.

The commercial recording (18 October 1953) from EMI of the Leonore Overture No. 3 simply acknowledges the old Schnabel maxim that the best encore to Beethoven is more Beethoven. Grandly conceived and paced, the performance proves that the Overture replaces the spoken operatic drama  in absolute music and therefore becomes superfluous as an introduction. Eminently potent, the performance celebrates the woodwind choirs of the VPO at their resplendent best. Furtwaengler plays the overture as symphony in miniature, a testament to the composer's passionate commitment to the idea of human political freedom. The famous trumpet calls over a string pedal, clear and resonant, emanate a thrilling grandeur of spirit, extending through the flute and bassoon into a new development that culminates in the colossal coda.

The Beethoven Symphony No. 1( 19 September 1954) derives from the last of Furtwaengler's appearances with the Berlin Philharmonic before his death in November of 1954. This work seems consistently to have eluded Furtwaengler's sympathy, insofar as he imposes upon it a weight - as he does in much Baroque and Classical composition - entirely over-wrought and more appropriate to Brahms or Wagner. Where Lorin Maazel in concert once made early Beethoven consonant with Rossini, Furtwaengler sees only the inevitable evolution in Beethoven's volatile personality, the Promethean forces agitating below any placid surface. The latter figures in the Allegro con brio first movement hurtle forward like the Seventh. In spite of the tonal beauty of the BPO in the Andante cantabile, the massive aura plays like the equivalent movement in the Fourth. A richer and more resonant Menuetto you'd likely never hear, assuming you want the sforzati to adumbrate those in King Stephan. The last movement opens with the diaphanous texture requisite to the score, then the lure of the colossal proves too tempting, although the orchestral sheen remains dazzling. Furtwaengler loved and worshipped Beauty, but his vision could resemble that of Chirico, wherein the Herculean architecture of imposing marble appears to have consumed our sense of perspective.

PASC 355  (72:20)
 

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 W�chter'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. W�chter 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 rou�.
 
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)