BERLIOZ Requiem • Dimitri Mitropoulos, cond; Nicolai Gedda (ten); Cologne RO & Ch • ICA 5075 (82:22) Live: Cologne 8/26/1956


Having been, for the most part (all but the “March to the Scaffold” and “Dream of a Witches’ Sabbath”), been impressed by Dimitri Mitropoulos’s studio recording of Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique with the New York Philharmonic, I was very curious to hear what the famed Greek conductor did with the Requiem. I hadn’t known that there was an alternative performance conducted by Mitropoulos from July 15, 1956, with tenor Leopold Simoneau and the Vienna Philharmonic, nor have I heard that performance (available on Orfeo d’Or 457971), but in listening to this Cologne performance from August all I could think was how absolutely wonderful it is from start to finish.


Granted, the Cologne Radio Choir is no match for Roger Norrington’s exquisitely blended forces in his recording for Hänssler (which I dubbed a Classical Hall of Fame item in the last issue), but in the 1950s there were few choruses that good … Bayreuth, perhaps, and Wilhelm Pitz’s magnificent Philharmonia Chorus, but not many others. Within the scope of radio choirs of that era, the Cologne singers acquit themselves very well. But even more impressive is the sound of the orchestra, the incredible wealth of textural detail that Mitropoulos is able to draw from it, and more importantly, how well it is recorded. For a 1956 mono radio broadcast, the sound on this disc is phenomenal—easily on par with the absolute best high-fidelity products issued by RCA, EMI, and even Decca-London. Just to give you the most crucial example, there is actually some depth to the sound when the four brass choirs enter in the Dies irae , in fact, more depth to the sound than Seiji Ozawa’s digital recording with the Boston Symphony on RCA-BMG.


But even better than the sound is the musical treatment of the score. As much as I like Norrington’s leisurely pacing, which matches so well the depth of sound he is able to elicit from his orchestra, Mitropoulos gives us what I would characterize as the true Berlioz style. This performance is only five minutes shorter than Norrington’s, but it sounds much faster because Mitropoulos never lets the momentum sag. He is continually nudging the beat forward, even in the quietest and slowest passages in the score, with the result that the listener hears much more of the work’s structure without sacrificing quality of emotion or depth of feeling. It’s like listening to Charles Munch’s Symphonie fantastique, Colin Davis’s early recording of Romeo et Juliette, and either the Toscanini or Fischer-Dieskau recordings of Harold in Italy. It’s that good, and it’s in the same style. It’s also astonishing how much hall ambience, and more importantly depth of sound, is captured here considering that this was recorded not in a church or concert hall, but in Studio 1 of the Cologne radio station. Taking all of that into consideration, the sonic results almost beggar belief.


It would take far more room that I have to describe all the stunning moments in this performance, but allow me to pinpoint one: the way Mitropoulos pulls back on the syncopated wind and string figures at the beginning of the Lacrimosa . This has a tautness, and almost a swagger, in the rhythm that I’ve not heard achieved by any other conductor in this work. Another interesting aspect of this performance is to compare its timings to the other Mitropoulos version as well as Norrington. As previously mentioned, this Cologne performance runs only five minutes shorter than the Norrington, but the Vienna version runs three minutes faster than this. Without having heard it, then, I would have to say that I think I’d prefer this recording anyway. I really don’t like my Berlioz Requiem rushed that much, which is another reason I don’t care for the Ozawa recording.


There is but one movement where more space is required, and that is the Sanctus. It is gorgeously sung by Nicolai Gedda in his best early voice—in stereo recordings, only Stuart Burrows is as good and only Leopold Simoneau and Toby Spence come close—but the tenor is up front and center in the soundspace, not recessed in the back as he is supposed to be. It’s a small flaw but a telling one.


Could this, then, be a first-choice Requiem? Yes, but only if you don’t mind monophonic sound and the up-front recording of the tenor soloist. If you do, Norrington is clearly your best choice, and as I said last issue, there are few better than his performance, but this is one of those few. Another small miracle is the fact that ICA has managed to cram 82 and a half minutes of music on one CD.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

Available for the first time since original broadcast!

R E V I E W:

All of a sudden, Charles Munch's star seems to be once again in the ascendant. Sony has recently reissued a swathe of his RCA back catalogue on its new Sony Originals label, including his Debussy orchestral works and his recordings of the Dvorák and Walton cello concertos with Piatigorsky. Coming soon in April is an eight disc box set on RCA Classical Masters that brings together recordings of Brahms, Schubert, Schumann and Mendelssohn symphonies and other orchestral works … and at a ridiculously low price. Meanwhile, the new independent label, ICA Classics, has brought to market three DVDs of Munch in concert with his Boston Symphony Orchestra. This Beethoven DVD and its companions (a DVD of Debussy and Ravel, and a DVD of Franck, Faure and Wagner) capture live broadcasts that have not been seen since they first went to air in the late 1950s and early 1960s.
 
I have always been in two minds about Munch's Beethoven. His Boston Beethoven 9 for RCA - one of those new Sony Originals reissues - 88697702992 - is one of my favourite recordings of the work. It is unsubtle, oddly up close and spotlit and never plumbs the depths of piano let alone pianissimo, but it is absolutely thrilling from first note to last and very moving. His Beethoven 5, however, is one of the most enduring disappointments of my CD collection. I pull it out every year or so to see if this time I will find something magical in the performance, and each year I hear scrappy and dynamically flat orchestral playing and an interpretation lacking in nuance.
 
What a delight it was, then, to listen to and watch the performance of the 5 ^th that closes this DVD. Here is the Munch reading I had been listening for in vain: a dramatic and rhetorical performance; a performance that builds inexorably towards the final peroration; a performance of contrast held together by flexible but fundamentally solid tempi; a performance abounding in spontaneous touches, like the extra space and freedom he affords his oboist, Ralph Gomberg, for his solo in the first movement. It is wonderful to hear, and also great fun to watch Munch's facial expressions and the way his baton drops when the dynamics do so that he seems to be conducting with shoulder movements rather than the invisible stick that is beating time around his knees.
 
As good as the 5 ^th is, it is the 4 ^th that for me is the highlight here. Munch cuts an unexpectedly dour figure in the adagio introduction to the first movement of the Fourth Symphony. If it weren't for the expansive baton strokes and the white hair, you could almost believe you were watching Fritz Reiner. The allegro ignites, and Munch seems himself once more. Is it a trick of the lens, or is his baton bent a little towards its tip? My goodness, he does shake it about a bit in the allegros! Beethoven's games with rhythm in this symphony are right up Munch's street. His knack of pushing a performance forward and building momentum suits this symphony beautifully. There is a bounce and swagger to the third movement that you just won't hear elsewhere and the finale fizzes.
 
The music from Beethoven's Prometheus ballet is an interesting inclusion. The liner-notes make much of the fact that Munch hardly ever played this music, so the conductor's most ardent admirers will no doubt need to acquire this DVD to round out their collected discographies. The Overture receives a scintillating performance, right from the whip-crack of the opening staccato chords. I was less impressed by the other two selections from the ballet, though the adagio shows off the orchestra's flute, bassoon, cello and harp. The mono sound does their magnificent playing full justice.
 
The picture quality of the monochrome source tapes is variable. The Prometheus footage has a tendency to fog and fish bowl curvature. The opening of the Fourth Symphony is disfigured by static lines. The camera work itself is conventional, but the editing strikes a fair balance between footage of the orchestra and the man on the podium. Fortunately the mono sound is clear and carries fair detail. Only at the close of the 5 ^th does the music sound a little cramped in its single channel.
 
Anyone with an interest in Munch and his magnificent Boston band will find this DVD fascinating.
 
-- Tim Perry, MusicWeb International

"Some consider Arrau’s live Beethoven sonata performances superior to the studio versions. In the later sonatas, Arrau himself alluded to the fact that an improvisatory approach was required which was difficult to achieve within a recording studio. Of op. 111, Jonathan Summers says in his booklet note that ‘as we near the close...we realise we've been transported to another world by Arrau’. This 1960 Stockholm recording, with Arrau at his career peak, is extremely rare and has never been issued."

BEETHOVEN Piano Sonata No. 3 in C, Op. 2/3 1. RAVEL Valses nobles et sentimentales 1. CHOPIN Nocturne in D?, Op. 27/2 1. Ballade No. 1 in g, Op. 23 1. Andante spianato et Grande Polonaise brillante, Op. 22 2 • Artur Rubinstein (pn) • ICA 5095 (73:00) Live: London 3/17/1963 1 and 10/6/1959 2


If ever there were a pianist who could be considered the aristocrat of the instrument for the 20th century it would surely be Artur Rubinstein, so full of intelligence, nobility, and remarkable simplicity are his interpretations. He was, above all else, a direct communicator of ideas. Throughout his career he always played to the audience, making them feel part of the show, of the whole experience itself; they in turn loved him for it. And though he was not always the most secure technician (in terms of playing the correct notes, not in terms of his overall musical interpretations) he is in especially fine form here.


His direct approach to the music can be witnessed from the very beginning of the recital. Rubinstein’s Beethoven was always interesting to me depending on the particular repertoire he was approaching—his recordings of the “Appassionata” Piano Sonata or the Fourth Piano Concerto are some of the pinnacles of the recorded performances that have been bequeathed to us in the 20th century. His Beethoven Third Sonata is good—it is straightforward; he has little fluctuation of tempo (though the forte outburst in the first movement at 0:25 does push it a bit); his articulation is crisp when required, and he brings a fine joie de vivre in this bright, but not always sunny C-Major work. There is something lacking for me, though—a tension, a drama that I find inherent in this work. Everything here is just too smooth. In Rubinstein’s Ravel there is a tinge (but just a tinge!) of the percussive quality of a Prokofiev: One can almost see Rubinstein’s grin as he lets the rest of us in on what he knows to be Ravel’s true intentions in this work. Too often are these waltzes performed in a flowery manner. The pianist’s approach is subtle in his carefully calculated tonal shadings and in his elegant way of always maintaining the sense of the beat, of the dance, which inspired one of this composer’s loveliest creations. Rubinstein is in especially fine form in Chopin—his composer. The D?-Major Nocturne is the crowning jewel in this recital: Once again everything that makes a Rubinstein performance special is in evidence here, from the continuous flow of the accompaniment to the way in which he approaches each and every phrase, from the highly lyrical to the highly ornamented. Anyone who questions Rubinstein’s mechanism needs to behold the ease in which he plays each and every note in the rapid flourishes that pervade this work. Not only are all of the individual notes crystal clear, each also has a beautiful ringing tone. The G-Minor Ballade was one of the pianist’s favorite works and he is in spectacular form here. He captures that wonderful sense of the narrative—not only can he make the piano sing, he can make it speak. Unfortunately there is an issue here. A sound anomaly mars this otherwise fantastic recording at around 8:30. The Andante spianato and Grand Polonaise act as encores, coming from a much earlier recital. Here too Rubinstein’s magical qualities come out in the ease in which he projects the gentleness of the nocturne-like introduction and the elegance of the dance that follows. It is not the most dynamic reading of the Polonaise I know, but it is powerful nonetheless.


The sound throughout the recording is fine given its vintage (other than the aforementioned issue in the Ballade). What is most remarkable about Rubinstein for me is his naturalness—there seems to be not even a strand of the eccentric in his playing. His Chopin will always remain a favorite because of its elegance, its straightforwardness, and its rejection of the picture of the composer as a frail and meek individual. His Chopin is timeless. His Ravel too is fascinating. In his hands the music retains its modern aura. This is one disc that you’ll be sure to want in your collection; I’m all too happy to make it part of mine.


FANFARE: Scott Noriega

This release celebrates the American pianist Leon Fleisher's 85th birthday. This 1960 live recording of Beethoven's Piano Concerto No.1, conducted by Andre Cluytens, is wonderfully sprung and full of stylish brio. Mozart's K414 is a rarity in Fleisher's discography; he did not record it until 2008. This 1957 live perfomance is direct with a full-bodied singing tone and pinpointed responsiveness. Unissued recordings; beautifully recorded by WDR. One of the few examples of Fleisher caught live.

MOZART Piano Concertos: No. 20 in d, K 466; No. 15 in B?, K 450 • Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli (pn); Antoine de Bavier, cond; Stuttgart RSO • ICA 5103 (54:24) Live: Ludwigsburg 7/11/1956


Michelangeli’s Mozart is often criticized for having the same flaws as many of his other recordings: His playing is controlled, perhaps for some over-controlled to the point of being static in conception; his tempos are extreme, slower than normal in the middle movements, faster than most in the outer ones; he is free with rhythms in certain places, perhaps more so in the cadenzas than elsewhere (I have little problem with this detail in these areas in particular). Some would call him cold, a surface performer who glosses over the true spirit of this music. But it is difficult to judge harshly a performer who is so very polished in his interpretation. Even if Michelangeli were not only in his mid-30s at the time of these readings, one would be hard-pressed to call these performances cold. Perhaps even more importantly, these readings took place in the 1950s, when every composer was still seen through 19th-century eyes in some way or another; the “informed” practice of the second half of the century was soon to begin—the research into original instrumentation, dynamics, articulation, etc.


When listening to Michelangeli’s Mozart as performed at Ludwigsburg, one is struck more by the forward-propelled, one might even say Beethovenian, momentum of his playing. In the D-Minor Concerto, it is the latter composer’s oft-played cadenzas, which Michelangeli has also chosen to perform. In his hands the entire work seems momentous, from the very first low orchestral grumblings of the opening movement, through the lyrical at times, stormy at others, Romanze , to the virtuosic and flighty finale. Michelangeli performs as expected: His tone is always beautiful and rounded, his scales and arpeggios are crystal clear, his control of dynamic shading and nuances is awe-inspiring; but even more importantly his energy is palpable as is his sense of danger. One sits on the edge of one’s seat when listening to this Mozart. The B?-Major Concerto, K 450, was one of the pianist’s favorites. This reading is filled with some of the best of the qualities of the D Minor, though here some of those negative complaints heaped upon the performer seem more justified: The tempo in the opening movement is too fast. There are moments which just sound rushed; the rhythmic quirks are evident from the very opening—initiated by the orchestra, these are later echoed by the soloist. Yet for all the flaws, there are moments which are just magical: the gorgeous opening trills of the cadenza, and even more so the dance-like lift the pianist gives to the second subject just a few moments later; the simple yet sincere way the forces play the second movement, especially the wonderful sense of dialogue they maintain throughout. And if one requires technical perfection for any of Mozart’s finales, it would certainly be this one—one of the most difficult of his concertos. Michelangeli is not one to disappoint.


If one requires Mozart to sound the way a Brendel, a Schiff, or a Perahia would perform these works, then one should look towards those other performers; but if one is open to a variety of approaches, then this Michelangeli will supplement one’s collection nicely—to me the very best Mozart that the pianist ever committed to disc (forget the old EMI or DG recordings)! Though the sound is still somewhat primitive and the orchestra a bit stiff in certain places, these are, regardless, performances to cherish.


FANFARE: Scott Noriega

The combination of Herbert von Karajan and the revered Romanian pianist Clara Haskil (1895-1960) was an ideal partnership. Karajan had an extraordinary rapport with her, describing her career as ‘a long and often sorrowful march to glory’ due to Haskil’s well documented ill-health. Since she and Karajan were contracted to different companies, they never recorded together which makes this live Salzburg performance to mark Mozart’s bicentenary in 1956 especially valuable. Haskil, notoriously self-critical wrote: “The concert tour with Karajan was unique and unforgettable.” Karajan’s reading of Mozart’s Symphony No. 39 is characteristically fleet-footed with great tension, a rare example of a live recording featuring the Philharmonia Orchestra and the conductor in concert together.

Bryce Morrison, the celebrated critic and authority on piano music, described the pre-eminent Hungarian pianist as follows: ‘Annie Fischer was among the greatest and most richly comprehensive of all pianists’. The distinguished Russian pianist Sviatoslav Richter, notoriously critical, described her as ‘an artist imbued with a spirit of greatness and with genuine profundity’.

Fischer was universally acclaimed in Mozart, Beethoven, Schumann, Schubert and Chopin as well as her own compatriots, Liszt, Bartók and Kodály. Despite her international reputation, however, in comparison with other pianists of her generation she is probably the least represented on disc. This was mainly due to a distaste for the recording process - she preferred the freedom and spontaneity of live performances. It is a well known that her studio recordings of the complete Beethoven Piano Sonatas were made over many years and with many different producers. She was never satisfied with the results, so in this BBC recital of selected Beethoven sonatas, Annie Fischer is heard as she would have wanted - live and caught on the wing, making this recording very valuable. Misha Donat, her producer for Sonata No.30, said: “she hated working in the studio so these are real performances; they were always done in a complete ‘take’, though sometimes she would play through a movement twice”.

Sir Adrian Boult began his long association with the music of Vaughan Williams in 1918 when he conducted A London Symphony earning praise from the composer. Thereafter Boult gave many first performances of Vaughan Williams’s works including the 3rd, 4th and 6th symphonies and Job was dedicated to him. Boult also recorded all the symphonies extensively in the studio for Decca and EMI during the 1950s and late 1960s.

The pastoral 5th symphony (1938-43) is considered a masterpiece based on Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress which some critics have suggested was a vision of peace for a war-weary nation, whereas the angry 6th symphony (1944-47) bears the marks of the war years in the opposite extreme, a portrait of a world laid to waste by a nuclear holocaust. Boult’s performances here, caught live at London’s Royal Albert Hall Promenade Concerts in 1972 and 1975, have even more adrenaline and excitement compared to their studio equivalents. Anthony Payne (Daily Telegraph) described the 1975 Prom performance of Symphony No.5: “one of the most taut and concentrated interpretations I have ever heard of the work”. When it comes to Symphony No.6, Martin Cotton, the music critic and writer wrote: “what Boult achieves in the four linked movements of Symphony No.6 is a sense of overall direction, and as he did in Symphony No.5, a strong feeling for the structure and emotional depth of the work’.

The great French conductor Pierre Monteux (1875-1964) was naturally considered a specialist of his native country’s music, though he would never allow this to restrict him. This new set of previously unpublished recordings seeks to set the record straight, with a strong representation of German repertoire, notably Brahms’ Symphony No.3 with the Boston Symphony, which he never recorded commercially, in a rare ‘live’ performance from the 1956 Edinburgh Festival. More Brahms featuring two celebrated virtuosos –the Violin Concerto with the French violinist Zino Francescatti, and the Double Concerto where he is joined by his compatriot Pierre Fournier, both ‘live’ recordings from the Royal Festival Hall in 1955. Both selections featured here are previously unpublished.

SHOSTAKOVICH Symphony No. 10. TCHAIKOVSKY The Snow Maiden: Melodrama. RIMSKY-KORSAKOV The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh: Hymn to Nature; The Battle of Kerzhenets • Yevgeny Svetlanov, cond; USSR St SO • ICA ICAC 5036 (62:17) Live: London 08/21–30/1968


As mentioned in my review elsewhere of the Dvo?ák Cello Concerto in a three-CD set of live Mstislav Rostropovich performances issued by BBC Music, this recording is the other half of the famous—or perhaps notorious—Royal Albert Hall concert of August 21, 1968. Hours before, Soviet tanks rolled into Czechoslovakia to crush the Prague Spring effort to advance “socialism with a human face” that threatened to crack the solidarity of the Iron Curtain. Consequently, the contents of the program—the celebrated concerto masterpiece by the iconic master of Czech music, and the profoundly brooding symphony of the Soviet Union’s greatest composer—could not possibly have been more ironic choices. The irony is further compounded for us by subsequent knowledge that the symphony’s scherzo is Shostakovich’s musical depiction of the brutal dictator Josef Stalin, who imposed upon the Eastern bloc the repressive tyranny that the invasion was now enforcing anew.


When the Russian orchestra—whose members (unlike Rostropovich) most likely had no inkling of what had occurred—came on stage, instead of being greeted with the usual round of applause, they encountered an uproar of shouted political slogans by protestors seeking to disrupt the concert. The yelling and scuffling persist through the first several measures of the symphony’s first movement, almost obscuring the quiet, somber opening on the lower strings, before coming to a sudden halt. However unnerving the uproar may have been to the players, they show no signs of it in any loss of steadiness of musical execution. Much the same can be said of conductor Yevgeny Svetlanov, who I presume was cognizant of the situation. However fairly or unfairly—the matter is a subject of dispute—Svetlanov is often characterized as being something of a Soviet party hack; while his real musical abilities cannot be denied, it is sometimes asserted that he rose to his prominent positions in part through political intrigues, and was regarded by apparatchiks as being more politically reliable than figures such as Kondrashin, Mravinsky, or Rozhdestvensky. In any case, he too rises to the occasion. Long on visceral emotional impact but short on subtlety, as was his wont, Svetlanov here produces a powerful musical juggernaut that, akin to the army tanks then rolling into Prague, moves forward with an inexorable, implacable power that upon its close is rewarded with a tumultuous, roaring ovation from the audience. While not my favorite version of this, my favorite post-Sibelius 20th-century symphony—my two top choices remain live performances by Yevgeny Mravinsky with the Leningrad Philharmonic from March 31, 1976, and Herbert von Karajan with the Berlin Philharmonic (in Moscow) from May 29, 1969—it belongs in the upper echelons of recordings of the work, and should not be missed by anyone who values it.


The brief filler pieces of Tchaikovsky and Rimsky-Korsakov concert-hall rarities are likewise given committed, heartfelt performances. The sound quality is a bit murky in spots and has some background tape hiss but is generally quite fine for a live recording of this vintage. The Rimsky-Korsakov excerpts are asserted to be in stereo, though I can’t hear any real difference between those and the monaurally recorded pieces. One wishes that the Shostakovich presented here and the Dvo?ák concerto published by BBC Music were issued as an intact concert in a single two-CD set on a single label; as it is, we can be grateful for the opportunity to acquire them as presently available. Strongly recommended.


FANFARE: James A. Altena


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How’s this for a page ripped from history? On the night of 20-21 August 1968 tanks from the Warsaw Pact rolled into Czechoslovakia, bringing the ‘Prague Spring’ to an end. In that raw, angry atmosphere it’s no surprise that Svetlanov and his Soviet orchestra were given a rough reception at the BBC Proms just hours later. Indeed, the opening bars of the symphony emerge from what sounds like a near riot in the hall, the music growing in strength as the clamour subsides. What irony that this symphony - written in the year of Stalin’s death - should be the curtain-raiser for another age of repression. And the cover photograph of Svetlanov - finger to his lips - is a strong visual metaphor for the day’s momentous events.
 
There’s no way of knowing what went through the minds of this conductor and his players that night, but there’s little doubt that these extra-musical tensions - added to the purely musical ones - spawned a gaunt, hard-driven performance of this great work that’s impossible to forget. Extraordinary circumstances aside, does this recording rank alongside those of Kondrashin, Järvi, Karajan et al? Emphatically, yes; unsparing and idiomatically rough-edged, it will grab you by the scruff and pin you to the wall for fifty relentless minutes.
 
The BBC sound isn’t bad either - I imagine ICA remastered it for this release - the martial second movement as lacerating as I’ve ever heard it; indeed, this music can so easily be heard as a grim accompaniment to the newsreel footage of the day. The darkly menacing bass drum in the next movement is especially well caught, as are the wobblesome winds. One can only imagine the tension in the hall that night, and no one could have known how the audience would react at the end. As it happens, the sheer guts and cathartic power of this performance silence all criticism, the hardy Prommers - not easily won over - responding with cheers and applause.
 
The fillers are barely that; signposted as ‘bonus’ items they’re pleasing enough. Blink and you’ll miss the Tchaikovsky, but the excerpts from Kitezh are most enjoyable; no evidence of extra-musical tensions in the band’s easeful playing. As I was reminded when listening to Svetlanov’s Rimsky box, this is natural territory for him. One could have wished for more, but the symphony takes centre-stage - and rightly so.
 
ICA must be congratulated for issuing so much intriguing, good-quality material in the short time they’ve been in business. I was very impressed by the Rozhdestvensky Tchaikovsky Fourth and look forward to more of the same. Indeed, their very active Twitter feed suggests we won’t have long to wait.
 
Taut Shostakovich, stretched to breaking point by contemporary events.
 
-- Dan Morgan, MusicWeb International

Guido Cantelli’s live recordings with the Philharmonia Orchestra are exceptionally rare because the BBC seldom broadcast any of his concerts. ICA Classics released Cantelli’s live concert from the Edinburgh Festival in September 1954 on ICAC 5081 but there has been nothing else. Toscanini was Cantelli’s mentor and there is no doubt that he would have continued in the great conductor’s footsteps had he not been tragically killed in an air accident in Paris on the 24th November 1956. He was 36 years old. ICAC is proud to present Vladimir Jurowski’s recording of Tchaikovsky’s The Sleeping Beauty. It was recorded live in December 2013 with the ‘Svetlanov’ orchestra. Jurowski has already accumulated a large catalogue of recordings all of which have received great critical acclaim.

The 1986 performance of Mahler's Symphony No.3 from London's Royal Festival Hall differs from the studio recording made in the late 70's. As Michael McManus states in his booklet notes, 'Fine though the studio recording from 1979 was and is, this live performance has an intensity and integrity that few, if any, recordings of this work can match' and 'Tennstedt in concert was a very different creature from Tennstedt in the studio. Mahler in particular was a life-and-death experience in the concert hall'. The sound captured by the BBC engineers is state of the art and easily captures Mahler's huge dynamic range. As a bonus, there is a short interview from 1987 in which Tennstedt discusses Mahler interpretation.

STRAVINSKY Le Sacre du printemps. Capriccio for Piano and Orchestra 1. Symphony of Psalms 2 • Leonard Bernstein, cond; London SO; Michel Béroff (pn); 1 English Bach Festival Ch 2 • ICA 5124 (DVD: 82:00) Live: Royal Albert Hall, London 4/8/1972.


The first few days of April 1972 were busy ones for Maestro Bernstein. On April 5 he recorded The Rite of Spring in the then-trendy Quadrophonic format with the London Symphony for Columbia Records, followed that two days later with a recording of the Symphony of Psalms , and on April 8 performed this concert in memory of Stravinsky on the one-year anniversary of his passing. One might expect, given the special nature of the circumstances and Bernstein’s often-theatrical impulses, that certain expressive liberties would be taken by the conductor, but in fact these performances are nearly identical in timing with their corresponding studio counterparts—in timing, perhaps, but not necessarily in effect. I have always liked his studio recording of the Symphony of Psalms , and this concert version comes close to recreating its solemnity and power. Especially in the closing movement, his exquisite pacing emphasizes the music’s reverence, and you can read the commitment in his face. As for The Rite of Spring , Bernstein left three studio recordings (NY Phil in 1958, the LSO, and Israel Philharmonic in 1982) which got progressively slower. The LSO account is my least favorite, but this live performance is riveting. Bernstein’s level of engagement here translates into orchestral intensity—there’s no holding back the brass and percussion, and the opening of Part Two is magical. After years of taking The Rite for granted, this is one of those performances that reminds us just how remarkable Stravinsky’s achievement is. Alas, the Capriccio does not reach such exalted heights; it is a lesser and somewhat schizophrenic piece after all, and the microphone placement does the piano no favors, losing details now and then. Alongside Bernstein, who seems to view the music as a conflation of Bach, Ravel, and Gershwin, Michel Béroff injects the solo role with more steel and thus creates more sparks than he did six months earlier in the studio with Seiji Ozawa (EMI).


Watching Bernstein at work, we can see how he uses not just his hand gestures—which range from swashbuckling to serene—but his shoulders, eyes, even his eyebrows, to inspire the orchestra. But Humphrey Burton, the director, does not focus solely on the conductor; the camera follows the flow of the music, from instrument to instrument, section to section, in a most revealing manner. Apparently the original film required some restoration by the BBC television archive; nevertheless the picture quality is fine, save for a few brief points in the Symphony of Psalms where deterioration required the insertion of still frames or a momentary view of the score. There are no added special features—no interviews, no documentary footage—but none are needed. The producers no doubt took their cue from Bernstein, who, immediately after the closing notes of the Symphony of Psalms died away, left the stage before the audience could applaud. The music is enough.


FANFARE: Art Lange

AMADEUS QUARTET PLAYS HAYDN AND MOZART

Joseph Haydn: String Quartet No. 62 in C major, Op. 76, No. 3, Hob.III:77, “Emperor”
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: String Quartet No. 19 in C major, K. 465, “Dissonance”

Amadeus Quartet

Recorded live at Tredegar House, Newport, 18 December 1980 (Haydn) and at the Royal Opera House, London, 6 February 1983 (Mozart)

Bonus:
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: String Quartet in E flat major, K. 428
BBC studio recording on 12 October 1962

Picture format: NTSC 4:3
Sound format: Enhanced Mono
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Menu language: English
Booklet notes: English, French, German
Running time: 75 mins
No. of DVDs: 1