"The Orfeo issue is an absolute ‘must’ for any Fischer-Dieskau collection... Comprising all the recitals Fischer-Dieskau gave with Moore at the Salzburg Festival over 10 years starting in 1956, it is a rewarding compendium of his interpretations of all the most important composers of Lieder. Most have already appeared as separate issues, when I have lavished generous praise on them (and encores have been added that were not on the original issues). Much of the repertory was recorded at least once by the singer throughout his career in the studio, but – as I have frequently pointed out – these offerings have just that extra response an audience engenders.

The two Wolf recitals have not appeared before: one is a delightful CD of songs from the Spanish Songbook, shared in 1960 with Seefried and Werba, a rewarding pairing. The other ‘new’ Wolf CD, also from 1960, can serve as a template of every recital here by virtue of its complete command of every aspect of the Lieder singer’s art. It is devoted entirely to Goethe settings, beginning with a deeply thought-through account of the ‘Harfenspieler’ songs from Wilhelm Meister in which, right at the start of a programme, Fischer-Dieskau is entirely at his ease, piercing to the soul of these mysterious and wonderful pieces. That’s followed by a suitably mellifluous and ecstatic account of the heaven-seeking Ganymed. A sharply characterised Der Rattenfänger, a ruminative Anakreons Grab and a challengingly powerful Prometheus – all masterly settings and all played by Moore with exemplary understanding – are at the very heart of this programme. Among the five encores, the suitably eager Begegnung and a properly cynical Abschied find the singer and pianist at their most relaxed and outgoing.

The first (1956) recital, which I don’t think I had heard before, is another winner. Devoted entirely to Heine settings by Schubert and Schumann to mark the centenary of the poet’s death, it contains some of the greatest Lieder ever written, ideally delivered – Schubert’s six settings included in Schwanengesang and Schumann’s Dichterliebe, in readings as immediate as any by the singer, followed by a treasure-store of encores: soft-grained, warm accounts of Du bist wie eine Blume and Mondnacht among them, followed by a light, wistful Erstes Grün. I shall leave the remainder of these superb offerings (discs devoted to Beethoven, Schubert, Brahms and post-Romantic composers) for the reader to discover.

Alan Blyth, The Gramophone

In this historic performance in stereo, Theo Adam joined the cast on short notice creating a sensation.

Among the opera performances that deserve to be labeled “historic” is the opening night of the new production of Beethoven’s Fidelio unveiled at the Vienna State Opera on 5 November 1955. The accolade is deserved not least because this was the first time that the curtain had gone up in the rebuilt house since wartime bombing raids had reduced it to rubble at the end of the Second World War.

Of course, this says nothing about the musical quality of the occasion, but the present live recording, released to coincide with the start of the new regime under Dominique Meyer and Franz Welser-Möst, allows today’s listeners to judge this quality for themselves. Then, as now, the chorus and orchestra of the Vienna State Opera enjoy the highest reputation and have no equal anywhere else in the world, and under their then director, Karl Böhm, they amply demonstrated their credentials on this gala first night in 1955.

For Böhm, this was the start of a conducting marathon, for the house reopened with no fewer than seven new productions within a matter of only a few days. His Fidelio is notable for its taut and even breathtakingly impulsive tempos, clearly intensifying the impression of a suicide mission on the part of the “angelic Leonore” that Martha Mödl characterized so magnificently throughout this period. Unfortunately listeners can form only a limited impression of her acting, which was every bit as intense as her singing. This was the first time that she had rescued Anton Dermota as her husband, Florestan, his refined singing giving the lie to the widespread belief that the part requires a youthful heldentenor to do it justice. The rest of the cast is likewise made up of legendary names: with her distinctive lyric soprano voice, Irmgard Seefried is almost under-parted as Marzelline, while her father, Rocco, is played by the great bass Ludwig Weber, who only a few days later took on the heroic baritone role of Barak in Die Frau ohne Schatten. The villainous Don Pizarro is sung by Paul Schöffler, who that same week shone as Hans Sachs alongside Seefried’s Eva in Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg. All these singers represent the sort of ensemble spirit that characterizes every great artist and ensures that performances like this one at the Vienna State Opera are always great occasions. - Orfeo

Twenty years separate Stravinsky's Firebird and the Symphony of Psalms, but stylistically they lie worlds apart. The CBSO and Andris Nelsons here bring both works vividly to life.

This penultimate concert, consisting of Beethoven's Second and Seventh Symphonies from 17 August 1980 by the legendary Austrian conductor Karl B�hm in his old age, just days short of a yea before his death, reveals the intense mutual commitment he enjoyed with the wonderful Vienna Philharmonic, an orchestra he regarded as "his own". Their art of interpretation is exemplary in it's naturalness, offering broad brushstrokes of color and imagination and an eager attention to important, telling detail that lift performances of these works to the level of compositional mastery already on full display.

Classical Music

Classical Music

REVIEW:

Any live performance of this, Rossini's last opera, is an occasion. Its grand scale, complex plot, and emotional depths on both personal and political levels, its odd mixture of the heroic and pastoral, stunning orchestration, and almost outrageously difficult vocal line for tenor unite to make it a thorny production to pull off properly. Great singers are called for; great ensemble is as necessary.

This 1998 production from the Vienna State Opera, with about 35 minutes of music cut (mostly repeats in ensembles, cabalettas, etc., still leaving us with more than three hours of music), is a splendid affair. Perhaps it's not as ideal as two commercially recorded readings (one in French, as is this one, with Caballé, Bacquier, and Gedda on EMI from 1973; the other, in Italian, with Freni, Milnes, and Pavarotti on Decca, recorded in '78 and '79), but it's a good show all the same.

We know we're in good hands from the overture--conductor Fabio Luisi takes this famous 12 minutes of music through its four separate parts, from the tranquil cello solos, through the storm and pastoral scene, and onto the famous wild ride, and he brings fresh energy and not a moment of cliché to it. The Staatsoper Orchestra plays it with verve and great respect, as it does the remainder of the long score. Kudos also to the chorus, who have plenty to do in this opera and do it with real heart.

The casting of the major roles is impressive. Thomas Hampson is the best Tell I've heard--sympathetic, clearly not a born leader but a man who rises to the occasion, a man who loves family and country. He occasionally overuses his slightly-too-light voice, but he is thoroughly "in" the character. Giuseppe Sabbatini manages Arnold's ridiculously high tessitura with apparent ease, getting all the high B-flats, Bs, and Cs (and the two C-sharps) with something akin to grace--quite a feat. He sounds tired by the very end of his last-act scena, but who wouldn't? Sabbatini also pays great attention to the text and to Arnold's predicament. It's a fine performance.

The Mathilde of Nancy Gustafson is guilty of smudged runs in what minimal coloratura her role contains, but her singing is solid if somewhat detached. A nice, light tenor named Mathias Zachariassen sings Ruodi's sweet song in Act 1 well, and Wojtek Smilek's Walter is powerfully put across. The other men are boring and sound bored; the women's roles--Jemmy and Hedwige--are well taken.

And so we have a good and highly dramatic "Tell" here, but it must take third place among the recorded choices. The other two are complete--surely a plus for home listening, too.

--Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com

Arrau at 80 – as vital and virile as ever

Recorded at the Salzburg Festival in 1982 when he was already 80, this epic recital (Beethoven’s Op 81a Sonata is omitted for reasons of length) comes as a reminder of Claudio Arrau’s unique stature. His grandeur is overwhelming, his rich saturated tone unmistakable. True, expressive points may be stretched to their limit, yet even if you feel that the intensity with which he endows even the simplest phrase is over-bearing, his daunting mastery is never in doubt. Here, surely, is the final fruit of years of blazing commitment to his art and to two composers central to his vast and encompassing repertoire.

Fortunately the time is long past when Beethoven and Liszt might have been considered strange bed-fellows (the one profound, the other flashy and meretricious). And in Arrau’s magisterial hands you are made more than aware of the influence of Beethoven on Liszt (‘His work is like the pillar of cloud and fire which guided the Israelites through the desert’), an inspiration which led to the symphonic weight, breadth and quasi-orchestral sonorities of the the B minor and Dante Sonatas. Certainly when Arrau opens Beethoven’s Appassionata Sonata – muffled, distant and alive with menace – you may well look ahead to the sotto voce start to the Liszt Sonata. Again, every part is strenuously rather than elegantly argued (surface elegance played no part in Arrau’s musical make-up) and time and again there is an almost palpable sense of the pianist’s strength and vision, his thunderous and rhetorical close one of many examples of recreation on the grandest, loftiest scale.

Turning to Liszt, Arrau is grandioso indeed at 2'00" in the B minor Sonata and overall his generosity of spirit is such that it makes many recent performances seem sadly constricted in scope by comparison. Similarly in the Dante Sonata, Arrau’s response to a term such as disparato, is of an emotionalism that few would risk today and which he might have regretfully qualified in the recording studio. Seemingly hewn out of rock, these performances form a deeply personal, mesmeric and exhausting experience and are entirely what Peter Cosse, in his heartfelt review for the Salzburger Nachrichten, called ‘The Sum of a Pianist’s Life’.

Bryce Morrison, The GRAMOPHONE

Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

The only recording of an Italian opera by this conductor whose star shines ever more brightly: a legendary performance with the greatest Otello of his day (and since), restored to full sound using the newest recording techniques.

IRMGARD SEEFRIED RECORDINGS 1944–67 • Irmgard Seefried (s); Leopold Ludwig 1 , Karl Böhm 2 , Herbert von Karajan 3 , Wilhelm Furtwängler 4 , Ferdinand Leitner 5 , Harry Blech 6 , Bruno Walter 7 , Ernest Ansermet 8 , Heinz Geese 9 , cond; Erik Werba 10 (pn); various singers • ORFEO 8771341, mono (4 CDs: 273:13) Live: 2/5/1944 through 4/1967


HAYDN 1 Alessandro nell’Indie: Chi vive amante. 10 She never told her love. 10 Piercing Eyes. 10 The Spirit’s Song. MOZART Die Zauberflöte. 2,4 Ach, ich fühls (2 vers.). 2 Du also bist mein Bräutigam?. Le nozze di Figaro: 3 Voi che sapete. 3 Deh vieni non tardar. 4 O säume nicht. 5 Il re pastore: L’amerò, sarò costante. 6 Zaide: Ruhe sanft, mein holdes Leben. 7 Exsultate, jubilate. 2 Così fan tutte: Come scoglio; Per pieta. 8 Vado, ma dove? 5,8 Non temer, amato bene (2 vers.). 10 Sehnsucht nach dem Frühling. BEETHOVEN 2 Fidelio: Jetzt Schätzchen, jetzt sind wir allein; Armer Jaquino….O wär’ ich schon mit dir vereint. WEBER 1 Der Freischütz: Leise, leise. WAGNER 2 Die Meistersinger: Gut’n Abend, Meister!; Hat man mit dem Schuhwerk. PUCCINI 1 Suor Angelica: Ohne Mutter bist du Kind. R. STRAUSS 2 Ariadne auf Naxos: Liebe Freund, verschaffen Sie mir die Geigen; Sein wir wieder gut. 10 SCHUBERT Fischerweise. Im Frühling. Auf dem Wasser zu singen. Seligkeit. Ganymed. Ave Maria. Gretchen am Spinnrade. 10 SCHUMANN Der arme Peter. Der Nussbaum. Widmung. 10 BRAHMS Auf dem See. Dein blaues Auge. Ruhe, Süßliebchen. Unbewegte, laue Luft. Feinsliebchen, du sollst mir nicht. Schwesterlein, Schwesterlein. In stiller Nacht. 10 MUSSORGSKY The Nursery. 9 ANONYMOUS Pierrot im Mondenschein. Trimouzet. 9 RENARD Süßkirschenzeit. 9 MILHAUD Der Apfel und die Schnecke. 9 KOSMA Kinderlied im Winter. Lied des Vogelstellers. Die beiden Schnecken. Schöne Jahrezeit. Im Garten. Fabel


This lovely and at times transcendent collection of live performances by soprano Irmgard Seefried (1919–1988) is a bit deceiving in scope. Although accurately listed as being between 1944 and 1967, all but the last 10 selections on CD 4, from a single concert at the Gymnasium in Brühl in April 1967, date from 1944 through 1958, and only her performance of Mussorgsky’s song cycle The Nursery comes from the latter year. Otherwise we are given Seefried in her absolute prime, the 1940s—some of it, sadly, coming from the time when she was stuck singing for the Nazis—through 1957.


These appear to have been quite extraordinary, even magical years for Seefried. Indeed, the only disappointing performance is not due to her, but to the three boys who join her in “Du also bist mein Bräutigam?” from Zauberflöte , who are consistently flat. Of course, these were also years when Mozart was played far too slowly for our taste today, even by a great conductor like Karl Böhm (but if you think he’s slow, wait until you hear Furtwängler slog through it), and in that era Beethoven’s Fidelio also seems to have been dragged out too much. But no matter, for Seefried’s singing often transcends her accompaniments with its instrumentally pure tone and unusually heartfelt readings, thus even in the obscure aria from Haydn’s Alessandro nell’Indie she makes you feel something more than just the sensory pleasure of her voice. Thus one can believe the statement quoted in the booklet, that “she might be able to sing with only half a voice, but never less than with all her soul,” as well as her own statement that “only a person who gives all of himself on stage has the right to stand on that stage … and my wish was always just to be someone who gives of herself completely….I want to believe that there is a meaning to why I was allowed to stand on stage, to give fully of myself, because this moment of giving is the closest to the moment of Creation itself.” Thus one hears performances like the October 1944 Freischütz aria (conducted by Leopold Ludwig), where the tempos as such are not the problem but rather the lack of momentum. Seefried provides all the musical as well as dramatic impetus; Ludwig and the Vienna Symphony plod through the music as if they were asleep. One of the few wartime performances that sounds lively and spry is the Meistersinger with Paul Schöffler as a warm, friendly-sounding Hans Sachs and Böhm again conducting. How on earth these artists could focus on their singing and interpretations in the midst of such angst-ridden times speaks volumes for their steadfastness of purpose.


Other supreme highlights of this set: the long scene from Suor Angelica (in German), the arias from Mozart’s Il re pastore (with great hall acoustic), Zaïde, and Così fan tutte , as well as that composer’s concert arias (particularly those conducted by Ansermet with the Cologne Radio Symphony), including two different versions of “Non temer, amato bene” (K 505 and 490, accompanied in the latter by her husband, violinist Wolfgang Schneiderhan), and Joseph Kosma’s chansons. Despite her livelier response to words in the concert hall as opposed to studio recordings, many of these Lieder performances suffer from the stodgy, disconnected pianism of Eric Werba, though she gives of herself in Haydn’s The Spirit’s Song and several of the Brahms and Schumann pieces (particularly Der arme Peter and the Brahms Volkslieder ).


As the notes indicate, some of these recordings have never been available before and many others were only previously available in defective sound. That is the greatest value of this release, the restoration of a great voice and artist in her prime with corrected sonics. If you admire this artist, getting this set is a must.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

Not many masterpieces have premiered at the Vienna State Opera. Die Frau ohne Schatten – the fourth collaboration between Richard Strauss and Hugo von Hofmannsthal – make one of the few exceptions. On the evening of 25 May 2019 – the 150th anniversary of the opening of the Vienna State Opera – a star-studded festival première of Richard Strauss’ Die Frau ohne Schatten took place at Vienna State Opera. Together with his librettist Hugo von Hofmannsthal, Strauss, at the time director of the opera house, developed a fairytale, complex and psychologically discriminating work that received its world première a hundred years ago, on 10 October 1919 at the opera house on the Ring. Since then, Die Frau ohne Schatten has enjoyed a rich performance history and is regarded as a special highlight of Viennese and international music theatre.

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REVIEWS:

This performance, though impressively sung/acted, probably will be most lauded for its conducting and the ravishingly beautiful playing of the Vienna forces under the absolute control of Christian Thielemann. Aficionados may balk at Thielemann’s approach from the beginning of the opera. The three opening chords are invariably played as a punch to the gut; Thielemann lets us clearly hear the nasty, threatening snarl they produce–low-pitched instruments piled one atop the other. This is a hint of the menace to come, not the menace itself. But lest you feel that Thielemann is going to conduct this opera’s subtext and not its ferocity, when it actually comes time to release the hounds, he offers a maelstrom: the voyage from the Royal Realm down to earth is rambunctious and raucous, and the cataclysm when the Nurse is punished is unforgettable. As Strauss’ only sustained, thoroughly atonal moment, it had better pack a wallop and it does.

After the Nurse loses to Keikobad, we find ourselves back in the heavenly realm, where we first met the Emperor, with glissandos from the violins and a palpable sheen. The gorgeous tune on the cello with violin and celesta in Scene 1 remains in the memory, and the falcon’s cry from the woodwind, so often ugly and nagging, is filled with longing and sadness. And if the ravishing orchestral interlude as Barak and his wife can’t find the words they want doesn’t melt you, well, it’s neither Strauss’ nor Thielemann’s fault. This is delicate music making, and when the three or four perorations the opera has to offer come, they blow the listener’s head off.

Say what you will about the three sopranos and their recorded counterparts, but Camilla Nylund, Evelyn Herlitzius, and Nina Stemme actually sound like the characters they’re portraying. Yes, each has some sore patches above the staff, but come on, just listen to those roles, performed complete, in a live performance!

But Nylund’s Empress has it all. From her graceful, girlish entrance–high staccato D and all–we follow her through the “why not take someone else’s shadow” journey to an unspoiled, empathetic woman of the final pages. She moves from brittle to valiant through a series of overheard moments that change her outlook, and we follow each stage with fascination. Her terrifying confusion before “Ich…will…nicht” is as alarming as the music right after it is welcoming and forgiving. No, she will not make you forget Rysanek, but her arc, and particularly the vocalism in Act 3, is breathtaking.

Herlitzius clearly has not escaped the damage that can be wrought after many, many Elektras, but her total commitment, bright, nasty sound, and way with the text–an audible snarl is a very special tool–more than makes up for a few shrill high notes. Strauss wanted a mezzo, and Herlitzius is not a mezzo; some darkness in mid and bottom voice is missing. But boy is she hateful, an ideal contrast to the Empress’ essential goodness.

The Dyer’s wife may be the heaviest role of all and it is often filled by Wagnerian sopranos–Birgit Nilsson’s laser voice comes to mind. Nina Stemme is more than up to the part. She has been much lauded for her other roles; I have always found her vocally fine but detached at times. Here she is terrific, bringing out not only the Wife’s horrifying lifetime disappointments, but drawing up the warmth and understanding for her reconciliation with the splendid Wolfgang Koch’s Dyer. Their third-act duet makes you realize what happens when honest love has been momentarily poisoned but is, happily, restored. And again, it helps to have Thielemann’s warm understanding of the score’s humanity.

Stephen Gould’s tenor is problematic, but then again so is the role of the Emperor. He has three static scenes and he sings them well enough–not eclipsing James King or Torsten Ralf on any level–but he lacks the royal dignity of the best, and one realizes that all the notes are not quite enough. Sebastian Holecek’s Messenger is scary and finely focused. Others– the falcon, the young man, etc.– are cast from strength.

– ClassicsToday (Robert Levine)

The clearly best performance comes from Nina Stemme in the role of the Dyer. Camilla Nylund sings with a genuinely beautiful and colourful voice and gives the Empress a strong character. In the role of the Emperor, Stephen Gould impresses with a slender, mostly confident tenor voice. Wolfgang Koch’s Barak shows himself to be a perfect Strauss singer, both dramatically and vocally. Christian Thielemann’s conducting is phenomenal, and under his direction the orchestra of the Vienna State Opera blossoms into a top Strauss orchestra.

– Pizzicato