For a work of this importance, there have been remarkably few recordings of Pergolesi’s delicious little intermezzo La Serva Padrona (The Housekeeper-Boss). Composed in 1733 to be performed between the acts of the composer’s opera seria Il Prigionier superbo, the piece ignited the splendidly hysterical Querelle des bouffons in Paris in 1752, pitting supporters of Italian opera (led by Rousseau) against fans of French opera (typified by Rameau). Perhaps more significantly, Pergolesi’s comedy seemed to indicate the direction in which the operatic winds were blowing–away from heavy duty tragedy and towards the buffo comedies of the nascent classical era.

The work is simplicity itself. Its two acts last barely forty-five minutes and contain five arias, two duets, a finale, and lots of secco recitative. No single number lasts much longer than four minutes, and several of the recitatives are bigger than the arias. The plot is rudimentary: Serpina the maid is so pushy that her bachelor employer, Uberto, decides to get married simply to get her under the control of the household’s new mistress. Serpina, seeing her chance, decides that she will marry Uberto herself, and after she arranges her own trumped up wedding to a stranger Uberto realizes that he loves her and all ends as planned.

Pergolesi’s music seems to have been designed to show off in the most schematic way all that was most appealing in the Italian school. The scoring is paired down to strings and continuo; the accompaniments are simple, the characters (only two of them) come from the middle and working classes, the action moves swiftly, and best of all, the tunes are pure vocal gold. Consider, for example, the sweetly lyrical aria, “A Serpina penserete”. Music historians, scholars, and theoreticians have never been able to wrap their brains around a style dependent on quality of melody as its primary constituent–it really is unanalyzable–and the result has always been a tendency to disparage Italian music as compared to the German or French schools, especially when those doing the analyzing happen to be German or French. Audiences, of course, have no such difficulties, hence the Querelle des bouffons and other, similar controversies throughout history.

This performance, fortunately, is quite a good one. As Uberto baritone Michele Govi sings with firm tone and he acts well with the voice; only a weakness in his lower register prevents him from being ideal. Federica Zanello’s soprano sounds a bit heavy, dare I say “matronly?” for the waspish Serpina, but she uses what she has intelligently and she is never unpleasant to listen to. The Ensemble Regia Accademia, a pick-up group drawn from various northern Italian orchestras, plays well under the direction of Marco Dallara, and the engineering sounds warm and well-balanced. As I said at the start, it’s very odd that there are so few choices available for this work, but this one will do nicely.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Ivan Repušić made his debut as Chief Conductor of the Münchner Rundfunkorchester on September 24, 2017 at the city’s Prinzregententheater with a concert performance of Giuseppe Verdi's opera "Luisa Miller". The Latvian soprano Marina Rebeka – the orchestra’s Artist in Residence during the 2017/18 season – was successfully engaged for the title role of the tragic opera, based on Friedrich Schiller's "Kabale und Liebe". This highlight of the Munich music scene has now been released by BR-KLASSIK. Verdi's masterpiece was written during the year 1849 in Paris and Busseto, completed in Naples, and first performed there on December 8, 1849 at the city's Teatro San Carlo. Schiller's tragedy tells the story of the calamitous love of the nobleman Ferdinand for the musician's daughter Luisa Miller, who falls victim to a terrible court intrigue that ultimately drives both to their deaths. To turn the play into an opera Verdi worked intensively with his librettist Salvadore Cammarano; both men were fascinated by Schiller's tableau-like dramaturgy, which matched their own ideas of an "epic drama". The tragedy was given three acts, entitled "Amore" (Love), "Intrigo" (Intrigue) and "Veleno" (Poison). After its successful premiere, the work soon established itself and has remained a fixed part of the international opera repertoire to this day. In this concert performance at Munich’s Prinzregententheater, Marina Rebeka made her role debut as Luisa Miller. Marina Rebeka sings the challenging role with technical perfection, giving it a sparkling vocal splendor.

REVIEW:

This recording can’t quite oust my personal favorite recording, Fausto Cleva’s RCA set with Moffo and Bergonzi, but Marina Rebeka is a much more dramatic Luisa and the recording is worth hearing for her contribution alone—and there is so much more to admire. Inveterate Verdians should definitely lend their ears to this latest Luisa Miller, and those contemplating their first recording of this hidden away masterpiece could do much worse than starting here.

–MusicWeb International

JARMILA NOVOTNÁ OPERA RECITAL • Jarmila Novotná (s); Ezio Pinza (bs); 3 Raoul Jobin (t); 5 Jan Peerce (t); 7 James Melton (t); 9 Martial Singher (bar); 11 Arturo Toscanini 1 , Paul Breisach 2 , Bruno Walter 3 , Frieder Weissmann 4 , Thomas Beecham 5 , Morton Gould 6 , Ettore Panizza 7 , Maurice Abravanel 8 , Frank Black 9 , Alfred Wallenstein 10 , Donald Voorhees 11 , Wilfred Pelletier 12 , cond; Gibner King (pn); 13 Vienna PO; 1 Metropolitan Op O; 14 Victor O; 4 Bell Telephone O 11 • SUPRAPHON 4158, mono (79:02) Live, film, and studio performances 1930–1956


ROSSINI Il barbiere di Siviglia: Una voce poco fà (in Czech). MOZART 1 Die Zauberflöte: Ach, ich fühls. 2,14 Le nozze di Figaro: Non so più; Voi che sapete. 3,14 Don Giovanni: Ah, che mi dice mai; Fuggi il traditor. OFFENBACH Les contes d’Hoffmann: Les oiseaux dans la charmille (in German); 4 Belle nuit,ô nuit d’amour; 4 Elle a fui; 5,14 Voyez l’étrange fantasie … C’est un chanson d’amour. VERDI La traviata: 6 Tra voi; 7,14 Ah, fors’ è lui … Sempre libera; 8 Addio del passato; 9 Parigi, o cara. PUCCINI La bohème: 10 Si mi chiamano Mimi; 11 Mimi! Speravo di trovarvi qui. 12,14 Tosca: Vissi d’arte. SMETANA 10 The Bartered Bride: Ten lásky sen. 4 The Kiss: Hajej, m?j andílku. 13 Rusalka: O lovely moon


Despite a long, distinguished career of 30 years, 16 of them at the Metropolitan Opera, Jarmila Novotná is known largely to record collectors and students of archive performances. Her one and only intersection with popular culture was an appearance in the M-G-M film The Great Caruso (1951), whose big star was tenor Mario Lanza. In Germany, where she appeared for several years and made some fairly popular films ( Fire in the Opera, The Beggar Student, The Bartered Bride, Song of the Lark ), she is perhaps better known, and in her native (now former) Czechoslovakia she is considered to be on a par with Emmy Destinn and Maria Jeritza. In her early years, when she was a high soubrette, the voice was ear-ravishing lovely, even sparkling in sound, but by 1937 her tone was becoming a bit heavier and her upper range less easy; thus, by the time she made her Met debut (January 5, 1940, in La bohème opposite Jussi Björling), the voice had become darker. But she was an excellent stage actress, an outstanding musician (she had already sung such offbeat works as Ravel’s L’heure espagnole, at Otto Klemperer’s Kroll Opera, as well as Krenek’s The Life of Orestes, and Schoenberg’s Die glückliche Hand ) and a fine stage actress. She was a favorite soprano of such conductors as Zemlinsky, Erich Kleiber, Walter, Szell, and Toscanini.


One thing you can’t miss from the opening track—Rossini’s “Una voce poco fà” sung in Czech—was that she sang with her high range too “open,” much the same way Bidú Sayão did in her “coloratura” years, and with similar results; both had to come down to the lyric range because they blew it out. You can hear the difference immediately after the Rossini aria, in her the “Ach, ich fühls” from Die Zauberflöte in Toscanini’s ill-fated Salzburg performance (ill-fated due to the overloud singing of his Tamino, Helge Rosawenge, and the botched, out-of-key performance of the Queen of the Night, Julie Osvath). Yet you can also hear her phrasing becoming tighter and more musical, less scatter-gun in her approach to producing notes. To modern ears, more used to mezzo Cherubinos, Novotná sounds rather light and very girlish (even Christine Schäfer, one of our few soprano Cherubinos nowadays, sings the music with a darker tone than this), but once again she is very fine, particularly in “Voi, che sapete.” Despite a slightly slower tempo than we are used to today, this performance could pass muster in our modern opera houses. But one does sense a loss from her earlier voice with its bright, open tone: The sound, now slightly covered, is no longer as distinctive. In Donna Elvira’s “Ah, che mi dice mai,” the voice no longer has any “bite” up top, despite splendid singing (and Bruno Walter’s tempo is much too fast for this music), but both soprano and conductor sound better in “Fuggi il traditor.”


The three excerpts from Les contes d’Hoffmann point out the differences well: the very early (1930) “Doll song” in German sung with light, pointed tone (and good trills), the “Barcarolle” and “Elle a fui” (now in French, from 1945) sounding more covered and bit muddy in tone, as is the 1944 duet with Jobin (a rather plain, ugly-sounding vocalist who was the Met’s preferred French tenor of the 1940s). By this point in her career, Novotná was also breaking her phrases a bit more frequently for breath than she had just a few years earlier.


The four Traviata excerpts, ranging in date from 1940 (“Addio del passato”) to 1950 (“Parigi, o cara”) are interesting in showing how Novotná built a character up throughout an opera. She was not the equal of an Olivero or Mattila, but in some moments she was interesting in a general way. In “Ah, fors’ e lui” she sings the descending opening line with the rests between the notes, the way Verdi wrote them, but after the tenor’s lines in “Sempre libera” she makes a mistake, correcting herself quickly. There is, however, no feeling in her “Addio del passato,” which is also conducted much too quickly by Abravanel. The voice is so dark by the time of her 1950 “Parigi, o cara” that it is almost unrecognizable as the same singer, and there is no feeling of loss or desperation in her voice. She might as well have been singing about her missing dog. (To be fair, however, her partner in this duet, James Melton, sings with no expression whatever.) There is a bit of expression in her “Si, mi chiamano Mimì” from 1943, but again, it’s just a sort of “generic Puccini sound,” nothing particularly personal in her tone or expression. The Mimì-Marcello duet with Singher (a rather gray-sounding and uninteresting baritone who was the Met’s French baritone counterpart to Jobin) shows, once again, Novotná’s generic, all-purpose acting style.


Although Novotná does not give out any more emotionally in the Czech operatic excerpts, the voice does sound more comfortable than in Italian or French. Hers is one of the better performances I’ve heard of the Bartered Bride aria, and the best I’ve heard of the aria from The Kiss. But I still have to rate Elfride Trötschel, Zinka Milanov, and Renée Fleming better in “O lovely moon” from Rusalka. (Novotná’s performance is also cut, missing one section.)


All in all this is an interesting cross-section of performances by a now-neglected soprano, though I’d much rather have had one of her excerpts from the German Bartered Bride film in place of the Tosca aria.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

Charles GOUNOD (1818 – 1893)
Faust
1. Salut! Demeure chaste et pure² [5:01]
Georges BIZET (1837 – 1875)
Les Pecheurs de perles
2. Au fond du temple saint ¹² [4:40]
Carmen
3. La fleur que tu m’avais jetée² [4:08]
Giacomo MEYERBEER (1791 – 1864)
L’Africaine
4. O Paradiso!² [3:34]
Giuseppe VERDI (1813 – 1901)
Don Carlo
5. Io l’ho perduta!¹² [10:30]
Rigoletto
6. Cortigiani, vil razza dannata¹ [4:26]
Il trovatore
7. Il balen del suo sorriso¹ [3:14]
La forza del destino
8. Solenne in quest’ora¹² [4:15]
Un ballo in maschera
9. Eri tu¹ [4:15]
Otello
10. Credo in un Dio crudel¹ [4:45]
11. Si, pel ciel¹² [4:29]
Pietro MASCAGNI (1863 – 1945)
Cavalleria rusticana
12. Il cavallo scalpita¹ [2:44]
13. Mama, quell vino è generoso² [3:58]
Ruggiero LEONCAVALLO (1858 – 1919)
Pagliacci
14. Si può? Si Può?¹ [4:57]
15. Vesti la giubba² [4:00]
Giacomo PUCCINI (1858 – 1924)
La bohème
16. Che gelida manina² [5:11]
17. O mimi, tu più non torni¹² [4:14]
Jussi Björling (tenor)², Robert Merrill (baritone)¹, RCA Victor Orchestra/Renato Cellini (1, 2, 4, 5, 8, 11, 15, 16, 17); Arthur Fiedler (6, 7, 9, 10, 12, 14); Swedish Radio Orchestra/Nils Grevillius (3; 13)
rec. New York, November 1949 (6, 7, 9, 10 12, 14); November 1950 (5); January 1951 (2, 8, 11, 16, 17); March 1951 (1, 4, 15); Stockholm, September 1950 (3, 13)
NIMBUS NI 7945 [78:31]

This disc is a gem.


There are few recordings of the same vintage – or indeed from any period of recorded history – that have been so frequently issued and reissued than the five legendary duets that Björling and Merrill set down in 1950-51. One can wonder if there is one single lover of great singing that doesn’t have a copy. I hope that there is still a market and that new generations will be able to discover gems from earlier times. These duets are among the most luminous of all. Björling and Merrill took part in the premiere of the new production of Don Carlo at the Metropolitan Opera on 6 November 1950, a performance that was televised. Less than a week later the same cast appeared in a radio broadcast, from which there exist excerpts issued on record. On 30 November RCA Victor and HMV in a joint effort recorded the long duet in a New York studio with Renato Cellini conducting. It was issued in Europe on HMV DB 21622 (78 rpm) and in the US on a 45 rpm disc (ERB-7027) and after that probably everyone – with the possible exception of Harald Henrysson, the curator of the Jussi Björling Museum – has lost count of the number of issues. Just a month later they were back in the studio and recorded four more duets, including the one from The Pearl Fishers, which has been one the most requested recordings ever since.

What is the secret of their popularity? The music of course, but with so many other recordings to choose from this is hardly the main reason. The quality of the recordings is no more than adequate for the period and the playing of the studio orchestra is professional but no more so than on other recordings. But the singing is special. Not only do the two voices blend so well, they are also clearly contrasted, which is especially obvious in Solenne in quest’ora from La forza del destino. Björling, who never sang Forza on stage, opens with hushed lyrical singing, far removed from some world-famous singers who try to break the sound-barrier, and then comes Merrill, who sang his role, he even recorded it with Thomas Schippers in the 1960s, and attacks the music with considerably more power. They recorded the Bohème duet a few years later in the complete recording with Beecham, who perhaps is more individual but whose slow tempo also makes it slightly turgid. Cellini has a more natural flow. Maybe the most interesting item is the Otello duet. The title role is the pinnacle for an Italianate tenor and Björling wanted to sing it but he wished to wait some years until his voice had darkened. It did, which can be heard on his later recordings, but before he was ready for the role death intervened, a fate that also fell upon Caruso a generation earlier. Neither of them reached the age of fifty. That Björling had the measure for some aspects of the role as early as 1951 is obvious from this duet, which actually is one of the more strenuous scenes in the opera. Merrill had recorded Iago’s Credo a year earlier – included here – and he returned to the aria for a later recital, recorded in Rome in 1956 in connection with the complete Rigoletto, where both singers participated.

Even in 1949 Merrill’s voice was one of the most beautiful and brilliant, surpassing even contemporaries like Warren, Gobbi and Bastianini, though falling short on interpretative depth. One can compare in detail his early readings with those from the mid-fifties and again – in Trovatore and Rigoletto – with complete recordings from the early sixties. The voice has not aged all that much but neither have the readings. He is no cipher dramatically but his readings are of the all-purpose kind that could without great loss be interchangeable between operas. Even so it is a special pleasure to listen to him for the supreme singing and these recordings with Arthur Fiedler are relative rarities in the reissue catalogues and therefore especially welcome.

This also goes for Björling’s recordings of roughly the same period. We find his aria recordings from the late thirties and early forties on sundry labels but these sides – there are also arias from Aida and La Gioconda from the same session as Che gelida manina and the two Tosca arias recorded with Grevillius at a session the week before the Carmen and Cavalleria arias – have been largely forgotten. This is a pity since they show Björling at the absolute peak of his powers, having honed them on numerous performances and recitals while still with the voice in mint condition.

If you haven’t got the duets, by all means buy the disc for them – they have rarely been challenged and never surpassed> however even if you do have them in threefold versions this disc remains a gem for the sake of the arias.

-- Göran Forsling, MusicWeb International

The Brazilian-born composer Antônio Carlos Gomes (1836-96) found immediate success in Europe with Il Guarany, his first opera to be staged there, ensuring his reputation at the time despite being little-known today. As recently as two decades ago, however, this work was re-staged in Germany, by Werner Herzog no less, and starring Plácido Domingo! The highly authentic, idiomatic and definitive studio recording at hand, dating from Sao Paulo, 1959 here makes a welcome return to the active catalog.

Having admitted to only qualified enthusiasm for Dame Kiri's recent CD albums of popular repertoire and folk-songs, it is a pleasure to recommend this programme of Verdi and Puccini arias without reservation. The beautiful voice has never sounded better and the clear well-balanced recording allows us to hear the expressive pointing of meaning and characterization to perfection. Orchestral sound too is excellent, though slightly set back in relation to the ideally perspectived voice.

-- John Borwick, Gramophone [5/1985]

Wagner's German opera: Tristan und Isolde. Performers include: Ramòn Vinay (Tristan), Astrid Varnay (Isolde), Ludwig Weber (König Marke), Ira Malaniuk (Brangäne), Gustav Neidlinger (Kurwenal), Hasso Eschert (Melot), Gerhard Stolze (Ein Hirt), Theo Adam (Ein Steuermann), Eugene Tobin (Ein Junger Seemann). Choir & Orchestra of the Bayreuth Festival, Eugen Jochum. Recorded live at Bayreuth in 1953.

WAGNER Tannhäuser • Joseph Keilberth, cond; Ramón Vinay ( Tannhäuser ); Gré Brouwenstijn ( Elisabeth ); Herta Wilfert ( Venus ); Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau ( Wolfram von Eschenbach ); Josef Greindl ( Landgraf Hermann ); Volker Horn ( Shepherd ); Josef Traxel ( Walther von der Vogelweide ); Gerhard Stolze ( Heinrich der Schreiber ); Toni Blankenheim ( Biterolf ); Theo Adam ( Reinmar von Zweter ); Bayreuth Festival O & Ch • ANDROMEDA 5162, mono (3 CDs: 183:10) Live: Bayreuth 7/22/1954


I’d really like to know why so many Wagner lovers have a bee in their bonnet over Josef Keilberth. So often in others’ reviews I read that he was routine, dull, unimaginative, etc., etc., yet I’ve always liked his conducting. Even as far back as my earliest years in college, when I was absorbing the Wagner canon from old LP recordings in the library ( Lohengrin with Steber and Windgassen, Fliegende Holländer with Varnay and Uhde, etc.), I always found Keilberth’s conducting well-paced, beautifully phrased and articulated as well as urgent in dramatic scope, and so I find it here. Even as early as the Overture (the Paris version, so it connects to the Venusberg music), Keilberth sounds as if he’s on a mission, and that mission is to make Tannhäuser’s story as thrilling as is humanly possible.


The problem with this release is the sound quality of the orchestra. I don’t know whether this recording stems from an in-house tape or a broadcast, but whichever it is the orchestral sound is harsh. The strings grate, the brasses spit, and the timpani sound like someone hitting a garbage can with mallets. And yet, this is an improvement over the one previous issue I’ve heard on Melodram, which was actually worse than this: The sound was both grating and muddy. At least Andromeda was able to clarify the sound and remove most of the surface noise, and happily the poor sound only affects the loud orchestral passages (like the Overture and the beginning of act II), not the singing. It should be noted that the cover of this release claims all-new 24-bit remastering, although like so many off-brand reissues of classic broadcasts, it has no libretto.


The only somewhat weak link in the cast is Wilfert as Venus. She is just OK. Her voice is not tonally pretty or very expressive except that she yells a good deal, and as I’ve said many times, yelling is not an interpretation. She also has a weak low range, which makes her descents in the scale disappointing. (Yet later on in the scene, the voice becomes less tense and she actually sings the written trills, something many Venuses ignore.) Vinay takes a while to warm up, sounding clumsy in Tannhäuser’s more elegant lines and lacking ease in singing the turns (mordents) in “Dir töne Lob.” Yes, he was an outstanding actor, both visually (which of course we can’t see here) and vocally, and that helps in many scenes of the opera, but I’d have liked a bit more suavity in the opening scene.


Once we leave the Venusberg, however, things brighten up considerably. A quick look at the cast list explains why. We have not only seasoned veterans Greindl and Traxel as Hermann and Walther and the still-young but already-legendary Fischer-Dieskau as Wolfram, but also several singers who would, within a decade, become important artists in their own right, namely Theo Adam, Toni Blankenheim, and Gerhard Stolze. As an extra bonus we get the great Gré Brouwenstijn who, along with Cristina Deutekom, was God’s gift to the soprano world from the Netherlands during the 20th century, as Elisabeth. (I should also mention that boy soprano Horn as the Shepherd is exceptionally good.) In addition, the microphone placement, which makes the orchestra sound so harsh, seems to be perfect for the voices, which all sound right and natural. As the opera progresses, Vinay’s voice brightens and loosens up a little, which is all to the good. (While listening, I kept trying to figure out whose voice he reminded me of; the closest I could come was Bernd Weikl if Weikl sang tenor.)


In act II, the vocal acting reaches new heights. Seldom have I heard Elisabeth sung with such nuance and attention to detail as she is here by Brouwenstijn; listen to the way she paints the words in “Was war es dann,” for instance, and as opposed to Vinay, her vocal elegance in singing the mordents is flawless. Griendl, who could at times sing with a loose vibrato and unfocused tone (as in his studio recordings of Tristan und Isolde and Die Zauberflöte ), is in excellent voice, particularly in the low range, and his singing in “Gar viel und schön ward hier” is both powerful and well-nuanced. I found it ironic that “Blick’ ich umher,” which is supposed to be sung somewhat clumsily by Wolfram (the reason he loses the song contest to Tannhäuser), is so elegantly and beautifully vocalized by Fischer-Dieskau that it almost sounds as if he were giving a Lieder recital. Yet, all in all, the drama builds during this act more suspensefully than I’ve heard it in any other performance of the opera. It’s absolutely hair-raising.


Happily, the Prelude to act III is recorded much better than most of the other orchestral music, possibly because it is mostly played softly. The Pilgrims’ Chorus, taken by Keilberth at a quicker than normal tempo, may sound a tad glib to seasoned Wagnerians yet it still manages to sound fervent, and Brouwenstijn’s ensuing aria (“Allmächt’ge Jungfrau”) is sung with rapturous feeling. Needless to say, “O du mein holder Abendstern” is sung beautifully, but what’s interesting to me about young Fischer-Dieskau is that it was his low range that was better than later on (a situation that made his mid-1970s recording of Die Meistersinger so disappointing). Vinay’s voice, ironically, sounds even deeper than Wolfram’s (later on in his career, he returned to singing baritone and then even sang bass!), but he is locked into the character here, so his “Rome narrative” is movingly and dramatically sung with full attention to words, and his death scene is indescribably moving.


The bottom line, then, is that if you really love Tannhäuser you need to own this performance. Because of the sound quality and lack of a libretto it’s not a first choice—that plum goes to the Dernesch-Kollo-Braun-Solti stereo set on Decca—but all things being equal, the singers are recorded so well that if you simply ignore the harshness of the purely orchestral passages (particularly the loud ones), you’re in for an extraordinary treat. This was a Wieland Wagner production, and somehow or other he and Keilberth got the whole cast to perform at white heat.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

Every Wagner fanatic knows the famous 1961 Philips label live recording of Der fliegende Holländer with Franz Crass as Holländer. Herewith, Andromeda presents the radio broadcast of the 1961 Bayreuth production which was recorded with the legendary George London, who gave here one of his best interpretations of the Holländer role. This recording shows once again that Mr. London was and remains unsurpassed as the demonic but for forgiveness-begging Holländer. Starring, in addition, Anja Silja, Fritz Uhl and Josef Greindl, this is the First Release in any format of this performance.

In addition to the less-often heard at Bayreuth production of Lohengrin in 1958, French conductor André Cluytens also led this Die Meisteringer at the same year’s festival. + This newly re-mastered recording features noted Wagnerian Austrian-born baritone Otto Weiner (1911-2000) as Hans Sachs, Elisabeth Grümmer as Eva, and legendary bass-baritone Hans Hotter as Pogner.

• A truly legendary performance led by conductor Clemens Krauss, recorded at Bayreuth, 1953. • A stellar cast of Wagnerian singers, including Ramón Vinay (Parsifal), Martha Mödl (Kundry), Hermann Uhde and George London. • Clemens Krauss left precious few recordings before his untimely passing in 1954."