Rudolf Kempe (1910–1976) was born near Dresden and in 1930 joined the celebrated Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra as first oboe. After his debut as a conductor in 1935, he joined the German army in 1942 but was ‘retired’ the same year and went back to conducting. A large number of engagements followed after the War, at the Saxon State Opera, the Dresden Staatskapelle, and as music director of the Bavarian State Opera (1952–1954). Kempe opened the 1951 season at the Vienna State Opera, and appeared at Covent Garden in 1953 (conducting Strauss with enormous success), and later at the Metropolitan Opera in New York in 1955.

He declined to become Covent Garden’s director twice but remained a regular and much-admired conductor at Covent Garden and on the concert platform both in London and on the Continent. He became chief conductor of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra (1961–1975) and the BBC Symphony Orchestra in 1975 until his untimely death in 1976. In Europe, he became chief conductor of the Zürich Tonhalle Orchestra in 1965 and in 1966, general music director of the Munich Philharmonic Orchestra.

This third 20-album box brings together more of the greatest performances taken from the BBC archives which were featured in the best-selling series BBC Legends, launched in 1998. The collection features classic recordings by stellar artists, including Sir John Barbirolli, Karl Böhm, Benjamin Britten, Emil Gilels, Jascha Horenstein, Eugen Jochum, Sena Jurinac, Wilhelm Kempff, Sviatoslav Richter, Mstislav Rostropovich, Rudolf Serkin, Leopold Stokowski, Evgeny Svetlanov, Klaus Tennstedt and many more. Reviews of the BBC Legends series when it was released in 1998 were outstanding: ‘The high standard of musical performances in these releases is mirrored in their scrupulous documentation and presentation... the engineering and sound of these recordings, despite their ages, is uniformly clear and sympathetic. The result is an unqualified success.’ (Gramophone Magazine)

REVIEW:

The sound quality of the historical recordings is consistently excellent to good and varies depending on the mono/stereo criteria or the respective recording time and place. Particularly noteworthy right from the start is Schubert's Symphony No. 2, conducted with exuberance by Karl Böhm. It is a virtually flawless rendition. 85 at the time of the concert, Pierre Monteux's Beethoven "Eroica" astounds with its muscular, roughened, yet transparent rendition that, to our ears, can still be considered the epitome of a modern reading more than 60 years later. The CD with Shura Cherkassky is also highly noteworthy. In Tchaikovsky's famous Piano Concerto No. 1, he dispenses with brutally pounding key attacks, instead relying on crackling elegance, clear architecture, and a well-balanced dynamic balance in relation to the overall work.

-- Merker Online (Germany)

Gennady Rozhdestvensky (1931-2018) was one of Russia’s greatest conductors along with Evgeny Mravinsky and Kirill Kondrashin. His close personal and musical relationship with Shostakovich began in the 1950s and continued until the composer’s death in 1975. Rozhdestvensky said at the time, ‘It would be difficult to overestimate the significance of my relations with Dmitri Shostakovich since he opened before me a musical universe like a gigantic magnifying glass reflecting our fragile world’.

Rozhdestvensky conducted the first western premiere of Shostakovich’s Symphony No.4 in Edinburgh in 1962 and after many subsequent performances internationally, it was also the inaugural piece in his tenure as chief conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra (1979-81). Composed in 1936 but condemned by the Soviet authorities, it did not receive its first performance until 1961 in Moscow. The epic Symphony No.11, given a dramatic performance by the BBC Philharmonic in 1997, is based on revolutionary folksongs relating to the 1905 Russian Revolution, and received the Lenin Prize in 1958. Despite this, questions arose as to whether Shostakovich was denouncing the Soviet regime’s brutal treatment of its opponents in it, specifically the 1956 invasion of Hungary or the Tsarist tyranny and oppression of 1905, to which there are no conclusive answers.

Shura Cherkassky was born in Odessa, Ukraine in 1909 and died in London in 1995. He was initially taught by his mother who had played for Tchaikovsky, but when the family moved to the US in 1923, he studied with his long-time teacher and mentor, the legendary Josef Hofmann, before auditioning for Rachmaninov. Prior to World War II, he had made his name in the US but from 1945 he extensively toured Europe and settled in London in 1961. The last of the great Romantic tradition of pianists, Cherkassky was described by Bryce Morrison as a ‘mercurial genius’, a unique personality, blessed with an incredible technique, who delighted in defying convention as no performance was identical. For a musician reluctant to visit the studio, live performances were the showcase for his stunning virtuosity and creativity caught on the wing.

My count may be slightly off, but there are approximately seven separate recorded performances of La traviata starring Maria Callas, all but one taken from live performances from 1951 to 1958. Almost every one has its value (I'd rather not hear the first three again--two live from Mexico City, one recorded commercially for Cetra), but the one under consideration here, from London in 1958, strikes me as the finest.

Take away three or four unfortunate high notes and you've got an ideal Violetta: we can always sense the fragility of the character beneath its veneer in the first act; the second act introduces us to a woman whose nobility was clearly being concealed by her station in life; and the third act is tragic from start to finish. Callas is secure enough to scale her voice back to a whisper that can nonetheless be heard perfectly and appreciated for the key to the character, and her coloratura is in fine shape in "Sempre libera".

This is to be all the more treasured when we hear her passion at full throttle in "Amami Alfredo", and near the close of the opera, when she attacks the high-G that begins the phrase "Gran Dio, morir si giovane" with a combination of such unbridled fear and fierce defiance that it leaves the listener shaking.

Cesare Valletti is her classiest recorded Alfredo (yes, even more-so than Alfredo Kraus), singing with great ardor, impeccable diction, and even an occasional sob in his voice; and baritone Mario Zanasi, always a fine-voiced, under-recorded singer, breathes and feels with her flawlessly in their second-act confrontation and duet. The other singers are good (Marie Collier is Flora!), and Nicola Rescigno, one of Callas' favorite conductors, does a beautiful job. This set has been available on different labels for a long time, but the remastering here is definitely an improvement in the sound. Don't miss this one: sonics aside, it's the only Traviata you'll ever need.

--Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com

A wonderfully relaxed and good humoured performance in which nearly everything seemed to have gone right.

There is a small but important group of operas that are essentially ensemble works, and in which the presence of a few star singers is less important than the quality of the team as a whole. Die Meistersinger, From the House of the Dead and Peter Grimes are prime examples but surely Falstaff comes at the top of the list. Everyone involved, including the chorus and orchestra as well as the many smaller parts, needs to be aware of their part in the work as a whole and in the chosen approach. If this is the case any small weaknesses in the main parts can easily be forgiven and the nature of the work can be triumphantly realised. That is surely the ambition of any opera company serious about its task, and is clearly the case here. I would not want to suggest that the present set is superior to all its many distinguished predecessors but it is certainly another vindication of the importance of ensemble in opera.
 
Glyndebourne took its productions to the early Edinburgh Festivals right from the first Festival in 1947 onwards. In 1955 it took Falstaff in a production originally intended to be conducted by Vittorio Gui but taken over by Giulini when the former became unwell. A later Glyndebourne version of the opera conducted by Gui with Geraint Evans, the original choice as Ford, has now been released on Glyndebourne’s own label. The usual very thorough rehearsal which has always been a feature of this company’s work is especially relevant to this opera. The result is a single-minded approach to its musical and dramatic character that is very striking. Whether this is due to the conductor’s efforts, to the long rehearsals or to careful casting I do not know but the result is a real overall success.
 
The individual casting is admirable. Fernando Corena’s recordings of buffo music by Donizetti and Cimarosa had shown his ability in this field. It is surprising that this production appears to have been his first performances as Falstaff. The part is often given to a baritone but a bass voice does have the advantage of suggesting the character’s scale without needing to resort to “funny” voices. He does not play with the words in quite the detailed way of, say, Tito Gobbi or Geraint Evans, but instead he exudes a more general good humour. I found it wholly convincing, especially when set within a cast all of whom display their character’s individual “humours” musically and without exaggeration. Walter Monachesi has a voice very different from Corena’s, which helps a lot in their scene together, and if the Merry Wives are not so well distinguished from each other, neither are they in most performances of the opera or indeed in Shakespeare. The role of Mistress Quickly is a gift for a singer with the necessary power in the lower register and ability of characterisation. Oralia Dominguez has both of these qualities and stands out even in such distinguished company. All of the other, by no means minor, parts are well filled. One oddity is that Kevin Miller takes over in Act 3 from Juan Oncina as Fenton. He may lack the same lyrical beauty of voice but there is no serious loss.
 
As I explained earlier, it is the quality of the ensemble that distinguishes this recording. All of the big complicated ensembles which can sound simply confused or untidy are here clear and transparent. Even with a recording which is adequate for a broadcast of the period but little more there is no real loss to the music. There are occasional stage noises, including what is probably the prompter at times, and some obtrusive applause but this simply makes the listener even more aware of what must have been a tremendous theatrical occasion. There is no libretto or even a synopsis which is regrettable but understandable in a version likely to appeal mainly to collectors who have more modern versions in their collections already. I would happily have exchanged the seven pages of listing of the ICA catalogue for more pictures of the original production - or indeed a more detailed description of it.
 
There are many distinguished recordings of Falstaff in the catalogue, including those conducted by Karajan (with Gobbi), Toscanini, and (some years later) Giulini in Los Angeles. The present set takes its place with them, like them offering hours of pleasure and delight. If the opera has a lesson it is the composer and librettist’s sheer delight in the varied character of humanity and its many frailties. This recording captures that varied character to perfection in a wonderfully relaxed and good humoured performance in which nearly everything seemed to have gone right.
 
-- John Sheppard, MusicWeb International

VAUGHAN WILLIAMS Symphony No. 8. Job • Adrian Boult, cond; London PO • ICA ICAD 5037 (DVD: 73:05) Live: London 12/10/1972

To my knowledge, this is the first time this entire concert has been issued intact. Previously the Eighth Symphony appeared on a DVD (now out of print) with a performance from a concert eight months earlier of the Beethoven Violin Concerto with these same forces and violinist Nathan Milstein. That disc was given a very tepid review by Jerry Dubins in Fanfare 31: 1, criticizing the Beethoven as “off skew” due to intonation lapses by Milstein and lack of proper synchronization between the audio and visual tracks, and a “solid but less than rafter-ringing” rendition of the Eighth Symphony. Here the symphony opens the concert, given to mark the centenary of the composer’s birth. While I would agree that it does not equal Boult’s own studio recording with the same orchestra for EMI made almost four years before, it is still an estimable reading in Boult’s distinctive style, which in this particular work is far more low-key and introspective than in the hands of some other conductors. A significant factor in the lesser degree of impact is the recorded perspective, which is rather distant; even turning up the volume knob on my stereo receiver could not give it a presence equal to the studio version. A remarkable feature is that this performance differs notably in conception from that set down by EMI, as can be seen by the respective timings—11:09, 3:55, 8:35, and 4:44 for the studio account versus 10:44, 4:11, 7:26, and 5:47 here, with the 10:44 of the first movement including almost a minute of introductory applause. The change in proportions—significantly faster in the first and third movements, and markedly slower in the fourth—gives the piece a rather different feel, though even after several hearings I am not sure how to describe it, as the variations between the two do not follow a consistent pattern. That there is a substantial difference is a sufficient point of interest in and of itself for admirers of this conductor’s art.

With Job the competition between the 1970 EMI studio version and this live performance is much closer; the overall timings and conceptions of the two are virtually identical, and here the live performance has more presence. This video version does offer one advantage its studio counterpart lacks; at the start of each section, it displays for several seconds the corresponding (and striking) drawings from William Blake’s Illustrations of the Book of Job that inspired the composer. Boult had a unique and authoritative association with this work; in 1934 the composer dedicated the work to him, and he made four studio recordings of it before any other conductor made even one. That alone would make this an invaluable historical document; that value is increased by the fact that, apart from the aforementioned Beethoven concerto and a Beethoven romance for violin and orchestra with Yehudi Menuhin, this disc contains what are to my knowledge the only commercially released filmed performances of the man who ranks alongside Thomas Beecham as one of the two greatest British conductors of the last century.

The film quality itself is excellent for its vintage; images and colors are as sharp and clear as the analog film technology of the periods allows, and there are no signs of film deterioration. Camerawork is discreet, appropriate in focus, and free from the jittery itch of some current film producers to jump about every few seconds. Boult himself, 83 at the time, comes on stage slowly but not at all stiffly. Like Charles Munch he favors a fishing-pole length baton, but unlike the French maestro his movements are restrained, economical, and graceful rather than feverishly energetic, the very image of English patrician nobility. But do not mistake a lack of theatrical demonstrativeness for artistic dullness; this is music-making of great integrity and conviction. To fans of Vaughan Williams and Boult alike, this release is unhesitatingly recommended, particularly for the fine account of Job.

FANFARE: James A. Altena

Russia’s two great ballet companies, the Bolshoi Ballet and the Kirov Ballet (now the Mariinsky) undertook their first major post-war tours in the early 1960s, exposing the West to the bravura and discipline of the Russian dancers for the first time. This DVD brings together performances by members of both companies, providing rare footage of some of the most brilliant dancers of their time. This is the first DVD released of this material.

Sergey Prokofiev: The Tale of the Stone Flower, Op. 118: Act I
Danila – Yuri Soloviev
Katerina – Alla Sizova
Mistress of Copper Mountain – Alla Osipenko
Severyan – Anatoli Gridin
Kirov Ballet
Royal Opera House Orchestra, Covent Garden
Niyazi, conductor
Yuri Grigorovich, choreographer
Recorded from the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden on July 1960

Pyot’r Ilyich Tchaikovsky: Swan Lake, Op. 20, Act II: Scene and pas de deux
Odette – Galina Ulanova
Prince Siegfried – Nicolai Fadeyechev
Bolshoi Ballet
Royal Opera House Orchestra, Covent Garden
Yuri Faier, conductor
Lev Ivanov and Alexander Gorsky, choreographer
Broadcast from the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden on 21 October 1956

Sergey Prokofiev: Cinderella, Op. 87, Act II: Cinderella and the Prince at the ball
Cinderella – Raisa Struchkova
The Prince – Mikhail Lavrovsky
Bolshoi Ballet
Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra
Alexander Kopylov, conductor
Algis Zhuraitis, conductor
Rostislav Zakharov, choreographer

Adolphe Adam: Giselle, Act II: Giselle and Albrecht
Giselle – Ekaterina Maximova
Prince Albrecht – Maris Liepa
Bolshoi Ballet
Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra
Alexander Kopylov, conductor
Algis Zhuraitis, conductor
Jean Coralli and Jules Perrot, choreographer

Aram Khatchaturian: Gayaneh, Act IV: Gayaneh and Armen
Gayaneh – Nina Timofeyeva
Armen – Nikolai Fadeyechev
Bolshoi Ballet
Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra
Alexander Kopylov, conductor
Algis Zhuraitis, conductor
Nina Anisimova, choreographer

Ludwig Minkus: Don Quixote, Act I: Kitri and Basilio
Kitri – Maya Plisetskaya
Basilio – Vladimir Vasiliev
Bolshoi Ballet
Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra
Alexander Kopylov, conductor
Algis Zhuraitis, conductor
Alexander Gorsky, choreographer
Recorded from 26–30 July 1963

Picture format: NTSC 4:3 B/W
Sound format: Enhanced Mono
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Running time: 81 mins
No. of DVDs: 1

VERDI Rigoletto: Acts I and II excerpts1. PUCCINI Gianni Schicchi: Excerpts2. Tosca: Acts I and II excerpts3 • Edward Downes, cond; Tito Gobbi (Rigoletto, Gianni Schicchi, Scarpia); 1Renata Scotto (Gilda); 1Dennis Wicks (Sparafucile); 2Elizabeth Bainbridge (Zita); 2Jeanette Sinclair (Nella); 2Michael Langdon (Simone); 3Marie Collier (Tosca); 3The Bowles Bevan Singers; 1New Philharmonia O; 2New SO; 3Royal PO • ICA 5118, mono (DVD: 86:00)

This video, titled “Tito Gobbi 100th Anniversary Edition,” is at once both absolutely thrilling and utterly exasperating. All too little film footage survives of Gobbi, who was not simply one of the great singers but also one of the most riveting actors on the operatic stage during the 20th century. Three complete operatic performances by him have survived on film: Belcore in L’elisir d’amore, Tonio in Pagliacci, and (most valuably) the title role in Rigoletto. (The last-named has never been issued on DVD, and the sole VHS version is long out of print; pray that Hardy Classics sees fit to reissue it.) Here we have potted excerpts from three of Gobbi’s choicest roles—Rigoletto, Gianni Schicchi, and Scarpia in Tosca—all made by the BBC in 1965 for television broadcasts shown a year later in a series titled Great Characters in Opera. Frustratingly, we are generally not given complete scenes, only discontinuous snippets, with the opening and closing notes of the orchestra often clipped in order to add insult to injury. What is provided is as follows:

Rigoletto: The act I scene between Rigoletto and Sparafucile, with a discontinuous jump to the entrance of Gilda; continuing (with cuts) until the point where the Duke slips into the courtyard of Rigoletto’s house; followed in turn by the closing portion of act II from Rigoletto’s entrance to the end (26:32);

Gianni Schicchi: From Schicchi’s entrance through the point where he orders Buoso Donati’s corpse to be taken out of the room; jumping from there to the “Addio Firenze” passage of warning to Donati’s relatives, up to the entrance of the notary; and then jumping again to the opera’s conclusion, commencing where Schicchi re-enters the house after having driven all of the relatives out (17:40);

Tosca: Act I from Scarpia’s entrance to the end; the opening arioso of act II, “Tosca è un buon falco”; and the close of act II, commencing with Tosca’s cry “Salvatelo!...Io?” (33:34).

As one would expect, stagings and costumes are completely traditional, though the television studio sets are of necessity far smaller than ones that would be seen on an operatic stage; the film clips are in black and white. The closeness of the camera is not always desirable, as it captures gestures and facial expressions that seen from a distant audience would appear proportionate but up close seem exaggerated. Still, they allow us to see the craft that went into Gobbi’s stage art in detail. In Rigoletto there is the wild-eyed apprehension of his encounter with Sparafucile, mingled with alternating expressions of fascination and revulsion; his solicitous concern for his daughter Gilda; and his impotent rage at the courtiers in “Cortigiani, vil razza dannata,” followed by rabid exultation at the prospect of retribution against the Duke in “Si, vendetta.” (One wishes, however, that he had been provided with a more realistic, less ludicrous hump.) His Scarpia, already known on film from the contemporaneous fabled closing of act II from Covent Garden with Maria Callas, is the very embodiment of the corrupt nobleman, all the more odious for maintaining the completely aristocratic bearing of one who knows his elevated social status even while descending into the depths of debauchery. Perhaps most fascinating, though, is his portrayal of Gianni Schicchi, not otherwise preserved on film. The perfect realization of the sturdy, sly country newcomer to the ranks of the bourgeois, his face is a veritable miracle of emotional mobility; the succession of expressions it assumes in the course of Lauretta’s plea “O mio babbino caro” is astonishing not only for sheer muscular plasticity but also for precisely mirroring Schicchi’s reactions to every word Lauretta sings. It is an absolute triumph and a veritable school of operatic acting for others—and all the more remarkable because Gobbi completely rivets the viewer’s attention while not singing a note.

With the exception of Renata Scotto as Gilda (she sings gorgeously but is physically implausible in the role), most of the singers opposite Gobbi are not names of the first rank, but their singing is uniformly excellent. The other substantial roles are the Sparafucile of Denis Wicks and the Tosca of Marie Collier. Collier, who died all too young in 1967 (at age 44, in an accidental fall from an open window), is remembered today for two last-minute substitutions: replacing Leonie Rysanek as Chrysothemis in Georg Solti’s legendary recording of Elektra, and stepping in the title role of the 1964 Covent Garden production of Tosca when Callas canceled three of her four scheduled appearances. If one can somehow put Callas’s incomparable Tosca out of one’s mind to give anyone else a fair shake in the role, Collier is very good in the part indeed, if a little green at a few moments; more unsettling is the fact that physically she bears an almost uncanny likeness to Callas as well. In the tiny parts of the various relatives in Gianni Schicchi one notes the presence of Elisabeth Bainbridge, Yvonne Minton, and Michael Langdon; I for one would love to hear more of the excellent Rinuccio, tenor John Serge (he made a single complete opera recording, Semiramide, with Joan Sutherland and Marilyn Horne), and equally fine Lauretta, Elizabeth Robson. Edward Downes conducts capably if not memorably in all three productions. The film quality is good for its time; the sound track is monaural but likewise also fine. The booklet notes are by Gobbi’s daughter, Cecilia Gobbi. Despite its piecemeal character, for those of us born too late to have seen Gobbi on stage, this is an incredible treat; for those who were fortunate enough to see him live, this is a valuable memento. In either case, urgently recommended.

FANFARE: James A. Altena

Leinsdorf belatedly enters the select list of the greatest Tchaikovsky performances on record.

The previous Leinsdorf offering in this series had a very good-to-fine Schubert 9, an even finer Schumann 4 and a wonderful Wagner “Good Friday Music”. However much you enjoyed it, I should think that only those present in the Boston Symphony Hall on 15 April 1969 could be fully prepared for the impact of the present resuscitation.
 
The first pleasant surprise that the material is in colour, even if definition is not up to modern standards. The second is that Leinsdorf, who was usually seen – before and after 1969 – without a baton and said in a late interview that he felt freer to mould the music expressively with just his hands – marches on with a longish baton and seems accustomed to wielding it. Richard Dyer, whose eye-witness notes continue to be such a valuable feature of this series, makes no mention of this. It would be interesting to know more about Leinsdorf’s use and non-use of the baton.
 
But all this pales before the fact that this sometimes austere and pedantic conductor is on truly inspired and inspiring form, conducting with total involvement. This doesn’t mean that it’s all fast and loud: the Beethoven goes at a good but not excessive pace and there is plenty of expressive weight to the introduction. The wind phrases in the allegro are beautifully turned and the coda truly blazes.
 
Leinsdorf’s Beethoven is a known factor. If it wasn’t always this good, I suppose it doesn’t need a lot of imagination to see that, on the right day, it could be. But his Tchaikovsky?
 
Leinsdorf only recorded one Tchaikovsky Symphony commercially, the Sixth with the Los Angeles Philharmonic some years before his Boston appointment. I’ve never heard this, nor have I ever seen it spoken of with bated breath. Whereas the internet grapevine has been shouting excitedly about this Fifth ever since somebody posted an incomplete sound-only version, as Richard Dyer relates. I can well understand those internet commentators who say they’ll never listen to their other discs of the work now this is available, or one who actually heard it at the time and has been unable to find a performance to match it – not even Mravinsky – ever since.
 
On the face of it, Leinsdorf doesn’t “do” anything particular with the music. The introduction is brooding but also purposeful – he notes that it is “andante” not “adagio” and one senses a great latent power behind waiting to be unleashed. His “Allegro con anima” does not sidle in slowly, gaining speed later, he sets an up-front tempo straight away. It will sound very fast to some listeners. But this is his tempo, so the first crescendo is not accompanied by an accelerando and the hammering passages go at about the “normal” speed. Nor does he deviate from this tempo, except where Tchaikovsky actually requests a slower pace for the second subject. Leinsdorf plays this with great tenderness and free rubato, even risking some less precise ensemble. On paper, this might sound like one of Leinsdorf’s dogmatic demonstrations, and if he had subsequently taken the performance into the studio I fear it might have turned into just that. I must emphasize that here everything is white-hot and convinces as a free expression of emotions.
 
So, too, does the slow movement. The tempo is pretty steady but there is a sense of free-soaring passion which completely effaces any sense of the four-square. The waltz has an elegance which does not prevent exploitation of its darker moments while the finale carries all before it. The coda has an air of crude triumph presaging Mahler. Audience reaction is rightly rapturous and even Leinsdorf manages some smiles. It looks as though the Bostonians learnt to love Leinsdorf just as he was on his way out.
 
I haven’t ventured to compare this with other favourites. Once the initial impact has worn off I cannot believe that performance by such as Mravinsky or Markevich, which have provided inspiration to generations (and to me) can be wholly and eternally eclipsed. The case still remains for a cooler, more brooding approach, notably provided – in very primitive sound – by Landon Ronald. At the opposite extreme, the capacity of late Celibidache to bend your internal clock and suspend disbelief at his time-dilations is not to be dismissed either. What I am quite sure of is that Leinsdorf has belatedly entered the select list of the greatest Tchaikovsky performances on record.
 
Back to batonless Leinsdorf in black and white for the Mozart bonus. He puts on an incredibly autocratic face with black looks all round. Those used to modern Mozart will gasp at the fullness of the first attack, yet there is lilt as well as majesty, and delicacy later on, Leinsdorf shaping the music with crisp finger-movements.
 
An interesting filler, perhaps. But don’t miss the Tchaikovsky on any account.
 
-- Christopher Howell, MusicWeb International

LEINSDORF CONDUCTS BEETHOVEN AND TCHAIKOVSKY

Ludwig van Beethoven: Egmont, Op. 84: Overture
Pyotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 5 in E minor, Op. 64

Boston Symphony Orchestra
Erich Leinsdorf, conductor

Recorded at Symphony Hall, Boston, 15 April 1969

Bonus:
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Serenade No. 9 in D major, K. 320, "Posthorn": II. Menuetto: Allegretto

Recorded at Sanders Theatre, Harvard University, 15 January 1963

Picture format: NTSC 4:3
Sound format: Enhanced Mono
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Menu language: English
Booklet notes: English, French, German
Running time: 57 mins
No. of DVDs: 1

The redoubtable Rozhdestvensky, chief conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra from 1978 to 1981, is at his very best in Russian repertoire. Indeed, his Shostakovich has a raw energy that never fails to excite, so I had high hopes for this recording of Tchaikovsky’s febrile Fourth. The other items on this disc – all recorded live by the BBC – make for a sensible and interesting programme, the rarely heard Sorochinsky Fair version of Night on a Bald Mountain especially welcome. Also worthy of note is the growing catalogue of archive material from the recently launched ICA label, some of it previously unreleased and much of it – the Tennstedt Mahler 3, for instance – very desirable indeed.

The upfront blare of horns and bassoons at the start of the Tchaikovsky gives a clear indication of the character of Rozhdestvensky’s approach to this score; it’s vital and vigorous, yet the rhythms of ‘In movimento di Valse’ have grace and charm. The big climaxes pack a terrific punch – what thrilling timps – the transported brass scything through the mix like one of those brazen, Soviet-era performances. That’s not to say it’s over-driven – well, not yet, anyway – merely that it’s not the carefully sculpted sound-world of, say, Claudio Abbado (DG) or Lorin Maazel (Telarc). This uncompromising earthiness is reinforced by a forthright, yet detailed, recording.

The oboe playing at the start of the Andantino is lovely, Rozhdestvensky alive to the emotional undertow of this music. The strings and woodwind are wonderfully alert and ardent, testament perhaps to Noddy’s rigorous rehearsals, and there’s real nobility in those big, swelling tunes. Anyone who knows Rozhdestvensky’s Royal Festival Hall Sleeping Beauty (BBC Legends BBCL 4091-2) will recognise that seemingly intuitive feel for phrasing; it all sounds so spontaneous. As for the animated pizzicati of the Scherzo, they have a fleeting, will-o’-the-wisp quality that’s most engaging.

All that evaporates in the sudden heat of the Allegro con fuoco. In his autobiography producer John Culshaw tells the story of how Georg Szell was tricked into taping an ill-tempered – yet fiery – rendition of this finale, but even he can’t match the incandescence of Rozhdestvensky’s reading. The BBC brass and percussion are truly heroic, the orchestra hard-driven yet coherent to the very end. I listened to this track several times, scarcely able to believe this music could be taken at such a lick and not descend into chaos. The instant roar from the otherwise very quiet audience says it all. A thumping performance, and a pretty good recording too.

A Night on the Bare Mountain, most often played in Rimsky’s orchestration, is given here in Anatoly Liadov’s hotch-potch culled from Mussorgsky’s unfinished opera Sorochinsky Fair. The change of venue – London’s Royal Albert Hall – and the very immediate recording add an edge to the choral singing that brings plenty of piquancy and passion to this strange hybrid. Remarkably, Rozhdestvensky gets his British forces to play and sing with all the abandon of their Russian counterparts. What a team they would have made in Alexander Nevsky. Musically this is fascinating, with unusual colours and a melting coda. I’d urge you to give this a try if you don’t already know it.

If not Nevsky, then Prokofiev’s suite from The Love for Three Oranges will do very nicely, thank you. And so it proves; ‘The Clowns’ is played with manic energy and ‘The Magician’ is magnificently malevolent. Prokofiev’s audacious rhythms and acid colours are superbly caught, ditto the ever-present percussion and demented brass. As for the March and Scherzo, they’re imbued with rather more menace than usual, ‘The Prince and Princess’ as inward and ardent as ever. The scurrying strings and lancing brass of ‘The Flight’ have seldom emerged with such ferocity, or the cymbals sizzled so. An ear-blasting end to a most entertaining collection.

Noddy fans will want this disc, and those who have yet to experienced his unique blend of eloquence and excitement would do well to start here. The Tchaikovsky is a stunner, and while the Mussorgsky is something of a curiosity it’s well worth having. The Prokofiev-on-steroids is a wild but welcome bonus.

Another fine issue from ICA.

-- Dan Morgan, MusicWeb International

BRITTEN CONDUCTS TCHAIKOVSKY

Pyotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky
Variations on a Roccoco Theme, Op. 33
Pezzo capriccioso, Op. 62
Romeo and Juliet – Fantasy Overture

Mstislav Rostropovich, cello
English Chamber Orchestra
Benjamin Britten, conductor

Recorded live from Snape Maltings Concert Hall, Aldeburgh, 16 June 1968
Bonus:
BRITTEN, B.: Gloriana, Op. 53 (excerpts)

Peter Pears, tenor
Aldeburgh Festival Singers
English Chamber Orchestra
Benjamin Britten, conductor

Recorded at Snape Maltings Concert Hall, Aldeburgh, 5 June 1970

Picture format: NTSC 4:3
Sound format: Enhance Mono
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Menu language: English
Booklet notes: English, French, German
Running time: 68 mins
No. of DVDs: 1

MARGOT FONTEYN AND MICHAEL SOMES
Tchaikovsky Ballet Masterpieces

Pyotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky:
Sleeping Beauty (excerpts)
Swan Lake (excerpts)
The Nutcracker: Act II

Margot Fonteyn, dancer
Michael Somes, dancer

Sleeping Beauty
choreography after Marius Petipa
Royal Opera House Orchestra
John Lanchbery, conductor
Broadcast: 20 December 1959

Swan Lake
choreography by Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov
London Philharmonic Orchestra
Robert Irving, conductor
Broadcast: 9 June 1954

The Nutcracker
choreography by Peter Wright after Lev Ivanov
Royal Philharmonic Orchestra
Hugo Rignold, conductor
Broadcast: 21 December 1958

Picture format: NTSC 4:3
Sound format: LPCM Mono
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Menu language: English
Booklet notes: English, French, German
Running time: 72 mins
No. of DVDs: 1

Bonus:
- Don Juan rehearsal and interview with John Culshaw

Picture format: NTSC 4:3
Sound format: Enhanced Mono, Ambient Mastering
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Menu language: English
Subtitles (bonus): French, German
Running time: 96 mins
No. of DVDs: 1

Sir Thomas Beecham caught ‘live’ often showed the mercurial side of his character, and no performance was the same either in the studio or in the concert hall. ‘What Beecham sought at all times was freshness, and his unpredictability was a way to achieve this’ (David Patmore). All the performances included here from the Edinburgh Festival, London’s Royal Albert Hall, Royal Festival Hall and the BBC Studios are from Beecham’s final years, from 1954 when he had fully established the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and himself as central figures in England’s musical life, to 1959 when he conducted an extraordinarily memorable account of Brahms’s Symphony No.2. Every broadcast is captured here in exemplary sound for the time, and apart from the Liszt and Haydn Symphony No.101, none of the performances in this set have appeared on an album before, which makes it extremely important for all collectors of the conductor.