Classical Music

BERG Violin Concerto. BEETHOVEN Violin Concerto • Arabella Steinbacher (vn); Andris Nelsons, cond; WDR Sinfonieorchester Köln • ORFEO 778 091 (75: 22)


Neither quite distorted tonality nor sweet-tempered atonality, Berg’s Violin Concerto straddles two harmonic worlds, settling comfortably perhaps in neither. Early recordings on LP varied from the angular one by Louis Krasner (Columbia ML-4857), who commissioned it, to the more luxuriant one by André Gertler (Angel 3509, re-released on Hungaroton HCD 31635). Isaac Stern recorded it in 1959 (originally as Columbia MS 5773 and MS 6373, and re-released on Sony 64504), as did Itzhak Perlman in 1978 and Anne-Sophie Mutter in 1992 (Deutsche Grammophon 437 092-2, 17:1)—among others, including Pinchas Zukerman, Rebecca Hirsch, Daniel Hope, and Mark Kaplan, to name a few. I don’t remember any of my schoolmates studying it in the 1960s, although composition majors used to buy and study its miniature score.


Arabella Steinbacher, who enjoys the support of Anne-Sophie Mutter—as mentioned, one of its champions on CD—integrates the violin part into the orchestral web (as do the engineers), where it perhaps belongs, although her voice emerges strongly in the ethereal passages toward the end of the first movement. She and Andris Nelsons seem to have focused on the emotional journey (the innocence, struggles, and death of 18-year-old Manon Gropius) rather than on either the score’s technical threads or its tonal ones (in that sense, their reading comes closer to Gertler’s than to Krasner’s, or, more recently, to Mutter’s, which seems by comparison static and focused rather on individual sonorities than on the grand dramatic arch. In fact, their lush relaxation moments before the “catastrophe” seem almost Romantically idyllic and make the impending terrors all the more ominous. Steinbacher must have conceived this work almost as a standard Violin Concerto, minimizing its difficulties for listeners. If the Orchestra resolves the final struggle almost too quickly, the soloist’s voice brings the expected—and, here, highly satisfying—emollient. From the three recordings that once appeared regularly in Schwann’ s catalog back in the early 1960s (those by Louis Krasner, Ivry Gitlis, and André Gertler), the numbers have grown. Steinbacher’s may be the first I’ve heard to normalize the work so thoroughly while sacrificing nothing of its highly idiosyncratic character. It might make a particularly good introduction to the style for conservative explorers just a bit hesitant to get their ears wet.


Orfeo’s recorded sound reveals a great deal of timbral detail in the opening tutti of Beethoven’s Concerto. The Orchestra plays with authority and imposing sonorousness, and the same might be said of the soloist; but it soon becomes clear that her reading lies more on the lyrical side than on the dramatic one. Her sensitive exploration of the first movement’s middle section, for example, recalls the general opinion that Franz Clement, for whom Beethoven wrote the Concerto, played sweetly and graciously. Still, her reading doesn’t exhibit either the high degree of clarity nor the silvery purity of Janine Jansen’s in her recent recording for Decca (B0013281-02). Neither does it seem so highly individual, though she enters after the cadenza at a leisurely tempo that allows listeners to luxuriate in one of the Concerto’s sublimely tranquil moments. By the way, while the notes suggest that she might be playing Beethoven’s cadenzas (to his own piano version, transcribed by Wolfgang Schniederhan), the booklet program gives them as Kreisler’s. They’re Kreisler’s. What passed as pleasant relaxation at the end of the first movement threatens to become mere sluggishness in the slow movement. The finale reintroduces the first movement’s mellifluousness. While hers may not be the most propulsive reading, therefore, it lies in the main stream, with a strong vein of melodiousness but with little of the sense of daring she exhibited in her collection, “Violino Latino,” Orfeo C 686 061 B, 32:4.


In a personal note, Steinbacher informs readers that she had played both Concertos with her recently deceased father, to whom she’s dedicated the performances. If her reading of Beethoven’s Concerto provides little that’s new or unmistakably hers, her playing of Berg’s Concerto suffices in its rhetorical flow to earn a recommendation for the entire program.


FANFARE: Robert Maxham

Classical Music

Although Knappertsbusch conducted “Lohengrin” many times, until now no recording by him has been issued, so the welcome discovery of this live performance from Munich fills a gap in the discography... We first hear Knappertsbusch pushing the Prelude on, refusing to linger but instead urging the singing strings to create what is almost a sense of tension and expectation, culminating in the great chordal climax by the brass. The Act II Prelude, too, is wonderfully played, the orchestra producing a dark, brooding sound proleptic of Ortrud’s calling upon the “Entweihte Götter!” --MusicWeb

Johan Botha’s unfailingly radiant and yet powerfully carrying voice established him over many years as a Strauss and Wagner singer par excellence, but most of all as a youthful hero, and not as a weighty heroic tenor. In fact, Tannhauser was something of a marginal role for him, but what a role! The recording of the Rome episode in the Vienna State Opera premiere of June 16, 2010, with which the release’s four-part Wagner portrait begins with excerpts from Vienna Staatsoper productions, movingly reveals how as a suffering yet passionate pilgrim he returns from Rome dejected and unredeemed. The bridal-chamber scene from the third act of Lohengrin looks back to Botha’s early years at the Staatsoper. Fifteen years later, he is an ideal Walther von Stolzing, who after a night of dreams reveals his Prize Song to cobbler-poet Hans Sachs, who in turn refines it and writes it down. The most moving scene comes perhaps at the close of Ariadne auf Naxos, when a figure hailed as Hermes, the divine messenger of death, proves to be Bacchus, the god of love. The recording captures one of Botha’s last appearances at the Vienna Staatsoper.

Brahms's Concerto for Cello, written in 1887, was what brought our two musicians together on the concert platform for the first time. Both artists with this release to represent a record of their work together as a duo over the past ten years and more. Julia Fischer and Daniel Müller-Schott prove their talent, accentuating the infectious vigor of pieces throughout the album and supporting each other musically as well.

Live - Opening night recording, 1965.

Following on from the success of the scandalous Salome, it was with Elektra in 1909 – his first collaboration with Hugo von Hofmannsthal – that Richard Strauss finally cemented his position as the leading German opera composer of his generation. Even today, the radical expressive violence of Elektra is regarded as paradigmatic of musical Modernism. The immense vocal and orchestral demands it makes remain undiminished, too. The number of singers who have really been able to meet the murderous challenge of singing the title role have been few and far between. In the 1960s and ’70s, Birgit Nilsson was undoubtedly one of them, possessing as she did a powerful voice also capable of much subtlety. She sang Elektra at the Vienna State Opera in 1965 in a production by Wieland Wagner, and the live recording of the opening night is now available from Orfeo.

No less a figure than Karl Böhm was on the conductor’s podium; his close connection to Strauss’s operatic oeuvre is proven not just by his having given the world première of Daphne, which was dedicated to him. Thanks to Nilsson and Böhm, this Elektra at the Vienna State Opera in 1965 was a musical triumph. Not only did they give full rein to the eruptive violence of the sheer acoustic mass that confronts us in Strauss’s setting of this ancient tale of vengeance, but they also did justice to the psychological details that the composer teased out of the text. They were aided in this by the orchestra of the Vienna State Opera, which played brilliantly across all its sections, and by a cast of singers that was homogeneous right down to the smallest roles. Besides Birgit Nilsson, the evening was naturally dominated by the other two main female roles: Leonie Rysanek sang the wistful Chrysothemis – a role in which she became famous – and with her luminous soprano she was an ideal counterpart to Nilsson’s heroine. As their adversary, their inscrutable mother Klytämnestra, the dusky-timbred Regina Resnik gave a superb performance. For the brief role of her adulterous lover Aegisth, the State Opera had the luxury of engaging the legendary heldentenor Wolfgang Windgassen. Eberhard Waechter sang the part of Orest, and with his unmistakeable baritone he offered every possible nuance of this important character, driven by fate. - Orfeo

In the world of opera there are certain roles for every type of voice that can crown a singer’s stage career. For the basso profondo, these are clearly – and suitably – the majestic roles of King Philip II in Verdi’s Don Carlos and Tsar Boris Godunov in Mussorgsky’s opera of the same name. Those who have sung these two roles on the great stages of the world are a handpicked group, and among their number is the Italian bass Ferruccio Furlanetto (who also enjoys much success in comic roles). The above-mentioned rulers are on the program of Furlanetto’s new portrait CD in the series “Vienna State Opera Live”.

Now approaching their 70th year as a concertizing ensemble, the Borodin Quartet’s 1961 Salzburg Festival première of the Eighth String Quartet by Dmitri Shostakovich (with whom they had a close working relationship) confirmed them as one of the leading ensembles not just for works by this composer, but for Russian and contemporary music in general. + Above and beyond this, the Borodin Quartet also demonstrated its immense stylistic competence in works by Brahms and Ravel, whose music framed the work by Shostakovich that lay at the core of that evening’s program.

For the purists in the Kleines Festspielhaus, there was an all-Mozart program with the Vienna Philharmonic at the 1980 Festival, with no less a figure than Karl Böhm on the podium. + It was to be his Festival farewell, though no one would have thought it, given the clarity and crispness of his interpretations of the A-major symphony K 201 and the Haffner Symphony K 385. + With pianist Maurizio Pollini he had a partner for the “Little Coronation Concerto” K 459 who audibly shared his perception of music-making and was similarly able to illuminate the music as if from within.

If the paltry 40 minute duration of this disc causes you some concern, fear not. There is a good reason. This release from Orfeo, in their Salzburger Festspieldokumente series, offers the first half of Michelangeli’s sole appearance at the Salzburg Festival. The second half consisted of works by Debussy, Chopin and Scarlatti and for some reason, which isn’t elucidated in the booklet notes, the Italian pianist withheld permission for it to be broadcast or recorded.

It’s hardly surprising, as he was an enigmatic character given to cancelling almost as many performances as he gave. Highly sensitive and temperamental, in 1986 he pulled out of a concert in Zurich because the piano’s tuning had been adversely affected by fresh air that had been let into the hall. His concert repertoire ranged from Scarlatti to Ravel, but was small. He committed little to disc.

Of the two works featured here, the Bach/Busoni was recorded commercially by HMV at Abbey Road in 1948. There are three live versions listed in his discography, recorded between 1955-1988. The Beethoven Op. 2, No. 3 exists in an HMV recording set down in Milan in 1941. The same listing charts eight live performances, taped between 1949-1987. It’s amazing to think that he only had five Beethoven piano sonatas in his active repertoire, though no doubt he performed them all privately.

There was always a close affinity between Michelangeli and Busoni's transcription of Bach’s D minor Chaconne. One reason why he was drawn to the work is that, as a small boy, he had wanted to become a violinist. He only switched to piano, apparently, because of an illness. I’ve always enjoyed his 1948 studio account, and this live version is no less compelling. It is magisterial, nicely paced and sensitive to dynamic gradients. He has a large-scale vision of the piece and carries the listener along with a cumulative momentum. I love the way he contrasts the declamatory elements with the more serene and poetic sections. All of this is underpinned by an instinctive rhythmic freedom.

Michelangeli’s stunning technical arsenal serves the Beethoven Sonata well. In the outer movements he goes for broke, effortlessly surmounting all the virtuosic obstacles that lie within the score. The Adagio slow movement I particularly like, for its eloquence and sober approach. The pearl-like semiquaver-runs in the finale sparkle like jewels, flawlessly smooth like polished gems. Listening to this performance in parallel with the 1941 Milan account, I was struck by how little his conception of the work had changed or evolved over the intervening years. Regrettably, he omits the first movement exposition repeat in the earlier reading, probably to accommodate the timing restrictions of 78s, but the finale is even more brisk - a stunning achievement in dexterity and technical perfection.

Given the date and provenance of this recording, the sound quality stands up extremely well. For those who can tolerate dated sound, I would recommend the pianist’s studio accounts of both of these works (EMI Référence CDH 7644902). They are desert island recordings for me.

The meagre playing time of this production is more than compensated for by Michelangeli’s superb artistry and outstanding pianism. I’m more than grateful to Orfeo for issuing this valuable historical broadcast document, it’s certainly one to admire and treasure.

– MusicWeb International (Stephen Greenbank)

Istvan Kertesz's early death from a swimming accident in 1973 meant that he performed very little in Salzburg. In the previous decade he quickly established himself as a first-class conductor of the younger generation with a large repertoire ranging from the Viennese classics to the Modern. In Salzburg in 1962 he confirmed his reputation, conducting the Berlin Philharmonic in a program that reached from Beethoven's 8th Symphony via Richard Strauss' Four last songs to Bela Bartok's Concerto for Orchestra, all of which made evident Kertesz's stylistic flexibility - everything was surging with energy and played with great lucidity. This concert (and thus the present recording of it) was further enriched by the presence of Elisabeth Schwarzkopf - a Strauss interpreter without peer to the present day.

Captured live in a gripping concert event dated 30 August 1964, at a point in time many consider the prime of his career or something very close to it, Herbert von Karajan here offers a dazzlingly powerful display of his mastery in music of Richard Strauss, specifically two of the composer’s great tone poems, Don Quixote, op. 35 and Also sprach Zarathustra, op. 30. He is ably aided by his soloists: Rudolf Streng, violist, member of the Vienna Philharmonic, founding member of the reformed Barylli Quartett active during the decade of the 1950s, and later to be heard in the Vienna Philharmonic String Quartet, and French cellist Pierre Fournier, one of the greatest at his instrument in the 20th c., known as the “aristocrat of cellists” in his lifetime for his lyricism and refinement. The Vienna Philharmonic, by this time fully rejuvenated from its wartime decline, is in superb shape. In addition, von Karajan’s Vienna recordings are treasured productions in a voluminous discography otherwise dominated by the Philharmonia and Berlin recordings.

In the concert documented on this CD, Shura Cherkassky follows a well-proportioned interpretation of Mozart's Sonata K 330 with Schumann's C major Fantasy and then contrasted a powerful performance of Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition with Barber's trenchant Excursions. With Chopin's Nocturne op. 55/1 and the Andante spianato et Grande Polonaise brillante, Cherkassky finally arrives at the composer with whom his name is perhaps most associated today.

Classical Music