REVIEW:

The Philadelphia Orchestra’s first two releases for Ondine under Christoph Eschenbach (Bartók and Tchaikovsky) were extremely good, no doubt about it, but this Mahler Sixth is really extraordinary. Part of its success must stem from the fact that the best German conductors usually do misery especially well, finding the dark side of just about everything. If you don’t believe me, check out Kurt Sanderling’s startlingly deep and edgy rendition of Poulenc’s Concert Champêtre on Supraphon. So you can just imagine what can happen with a piece like Mahler’s Sixth. Anyone fortunate enough to have heard Eschenbach’s performances of this work with the NDR Orchestra in Hamburg will know that he has a special feeling for its harrowing intensity and expressionistic instrumental palette. Toss in the collective virtuosity of the Philadelphia Orchestra, and the result is, to put it mildly, pretty special.

As a coupling, the early piano quartet movement is more appropriate than you might at first think. First of all, it shares the same key as the symphony, and second, it’s useful to have it along as part of an all-Mahler program, allowing collectors to round out their collections without having to search for an acceptable all-chamber-music program. The engineering also represents the best in this series so far, with virtually no audience noise, tremendous presence in both stereo and multichannel formats, and extremely natural balances between orchestral sections. I know that Mahler Sixes seem to be a dime a dozen these days, but this one, a first for Philadelphia, belongs among the elite few (Bernstein I and II, Chailly, Levi, T. Sanderling, and Gielen). It’s just bloody thrilling.

— ClassicsToday.com (David Hurwitz)

The Golden Age of Leopold Stokowski and the Philadelphia Orchestra" describes the 25 years from 1912 during which a London-born church organist took a provincial American ensemble and built it into one of the finest orchestras in the world, noted for its precision, virtuosity, and splendid tone-color. With the advent of the microphone during the 1920s, Stokowski and the Philadelphia Orchestra made an enormous number of 78rpm discs that would become landmark recordings. For much of this time Stokowski concentrated on basic repertoire – including Beethoven, Brahms, Tchaikovsky, Sibelius, Debussy, Mussorgsky and many others. However, side-by-side with familiar pieces went a number of works which no-one else had recorded before or, indeed, has recorded since! Although Stokowski was to record certain compositions several times over during his long career, there were a number which he recorded only once – on 78s made with the Philadelphia Orchestra. This unique collection of restored recordings brings together just those items which fall into this "rarities" category, and it demonstrates Stokowski's incredibly wide-ranging musical sympathies. It covers many periods and styles, from melodies centuries old to colourful Iberian and Oriental works, together with music of 20th-century America.

*** This title is a reissue of a Japanese release with liner notes in Japanese. ***

If you’re looking for an inexpensive single disc containing Saint-Saëns’ most popular orchestral works, then you can’t miss with this collection. I often wonder if Ormandy had not gone on to remake his core repertoire with RCA, in mostly duller performances and lousy sound, whether his reputation would be as low as it is at present. There’s some absolutely sensational music making on this disc, and to prove it I offer three sound samples for you to consider.

First, this is one of the great “Organ” Symphonies, not perhaps quite as exciting as Munch, but awfully close, with amazingly fine playing from the Philadelphians and astonishingly good sonics for the period (1962). E. Power Biggs is the excellent soloist, offering a rendition of the organ part that’s unusually well articulated rhythmically. Consider the opening of the finale: bold and quite striking in its firmly phrased, grand reprise of the symphony’s motto theme (first sound sample). Ormandy never matched this performance, and he re-recorded this symphony at least twice.

The symphony may be fine, but it’s the couplings that really close the deal. The Marche militaire française has plenty of swagger, and these versions of the Bacchanale from Samson et Dalila and the Danse macabre are simply the best available. Ormandy does a little light restoring of the former, and it matters not a bit–this performance just drips sex and couldn’t be more wildly uninhibited (second sound sample). As for the Danse, just listen to those Philadelphia violins sing out the main theme (third sound sample). It doesn’t get any better than that.

The Carnival of the Animals is no mere make-weight bonus. Heard in its chamber scoring, the performers make an impressive list: Philippe Entremont and Gaby Casadesus on pianos, Régis Pasquier and Yan-Pascal Tortelier on violins, Gérard Caussé on viola, and no less than the young Yo-Yo Ma on cello. Taken together, you have a perfect disc of Saint-Saëns favorites in performances as good or better than any available. And it’s all offered at budget price. Pure gold.

– ClassicsToday (David Hurwitz)

REVIEW:

This release...offers an excellent musical programming concept, with all three works captured live in performances that are absolutely stunning and fully competitive with the best available. Both the Bartók and Martinů pieces were composed during their respective composers’ exile in America, while Gideon Klein’s Partita (an arrangement for string orchestra of his String Trio), is the result of “internal exile” in the Terezín concentration camp. All three men found ways to continue making music despite displacement, personal misfortune, and against the background of the rise of Nazism and the onset of war. More to the point, the program works because it offers plenty of purely musical contrast and variety.

Martinů’s Memorial to Lidice, a town wiped out by the Nazis as an act of retaliation for the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich, is a harrowing but ultimately hopeful orchestral elegy that receives the most gut-wrenching performance yet recorded. Eschenbach is about 50 percent slower than Ancerl (or anyone else), but he uses the extra time to excellent effect, revealing every luminous detail of Martinů’s orchestration and building the music to a shattering climax, with Beethoven’s Fifth balefully intoned by the horns. Klein’s Partita has much in common with Bartók’s Divertimento, with its folk-inflected thematic material. Its central movement is a very attractive set of variations on a Moravian theme, and it’s clear from this performance that the Philadelphia tradition of great string playing is very much alive and well. Eschenbach leads a performance both warm and incisive, revealing a major work in the process.

The Philadelphia Orchestra already has at least two recordings of Bartók’s Concerto for Orchestra to its credit, both with Eugene Ormandy--a fine early stereo version on Sony, and a mediocre early digital remake on RCA. This newcomer clearly is finer than either of those, as exciting a rendition as any available. Eschenbach thankfully eschews the excessive slowness that has marred his recent Mahler performances and lets the various sections of the orchestra display their considerable prowess in what remains one of the repertoire’s great showpieces. Listen to the rush of excitement in the transition to the first-movement allegro, or to the beautiful balance between woodwinds and harps in the second subject; notice the brilliant brass fugato that initiates the recapitulation, and the driving coda. It’s the real deal, from the very first note.

The sonics are markedly superior to what Sony, RCA, and EMI used to get in any of the various venues that they used, at least in stereo. The microphones are close to the players, the better to reduce the occasional noise from the audience (the occasional light cough isn’t at all bothersome), but the orchestra can take the exposure, and the sonic impact is pretty thrilling. I’m pleased (and honestly relieved) to be able to recommend it to you in the strongest possible terms.

-- ClassicsToday.com (David Hurwitz)

*** This title is a reissue of a Japanese release with liner notes in Japanese. ***

*** This title is a reissue of a Japanese release with liner notes in Japanese. ***

Here's another spectacular release from RCA Japan's Ormandy/Philadelphia edition, courtesy of Arkivmusic.com's "on demand" program. These are wonderful, truly Romantic performances featuring amazing playing, string sound that's beyond gorgeous, and interpretations that have a lot more subtlety than Ormandy usually gets credit for. The Seventh is particularly impressive, one of the finest versions available, full of tension in the outer movements, capped by a blazing coda that puts many other, better-known recordings to shame. Listen to the woodwinds cut through the full orchestra in the fortissimo counterstatement of the first movement's main theme without significant orchestral retouching; or notice the exciting transition to the scherzo's main section--there are many such distinctive moments here.

The Eighth is just as fine, and even better recorded, with more presence from the timpani and a bit more air around the instruments. In the first movement it's amazing to hear string playing with such incisive rhythm, particularly at the climaxes, and it's instructive to note how much passion this generates at a basically moderate tempo. The Adagio's exchanges between winds and strings couldn't be better timed; the third-movement waltz is, as you might imagine, the last word in sophisticated phrasing; and the scherzo-variations in the finale is a riot, with bright horn trills and, in the coda, a really vulgar (and totally apt) trumpet smear to cap the festivities. Ormandy also takes the violins up an octave just before the end, between those slashing final chords, arguably a more effective option than the Czech tradition of doubling them with horns. Hearing these performances again is like getting reacquainted with a best friend that you never should have lost touch with over the years.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Soloists were principals of the Philadelphia Orchestra under Ormandy.

*** This title is a reissue of a Japanese release with liner notes in Japanese. ***

Okay, you're not going to find the insane intensity of Rostropovich/Vishnevskaya/Reshetin in Ormandy's Fourteenth symphony, but as you might expect, this Western premiere recording is really well played, and surprisingly well sung. Simon Estes has a rich, dark bass sound, and Phyllis Curtin is, in her own way, practically as intense as Vishnevskaya. Ormandy's conducting could be more volatile, particularly in the quicker songs, but he was always an excellent interpreter of this composer, and it's good to see this disc reappearing in Japanese RCA's Ormandy edition. The Britten pieces are also surprisingly effective given their late date in Ormandy's career. Again, the "Storm" could be a bit wilder, but the Passacaglia is terrific. Sonically this really is pretty good for its 1970s RCA vintage. Available from Arkivmusic.com, on-demand.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

*** This title is a reissue of a Japanese release with liner notes in Japanese. ***

PROKOFIEV Alexander Nevsky. 1 RACHMANINOFF The Bells 2 • Eugene Ormandy, cond; Philadelphia O; Phyllis Curtin (sop); 2 Betty Allen (mez); 1 George Shirley (ten); 2 Michael Devlin (bar); 2 Mendelssohn Club of Philadelphia; 1 Temple University Ch 2 • RCA-ArkivMusic 38296 (72:46)


Prokofiev may not immediately come to mind when thinking about Ormandy’s repertoire, but in fact his Prokofiev discography is substantial: all the symphonies save the Second and Third, including two versions each of the Fifth and Sixth; the Second and Fourth piano concertos; both violin concertos (with Isaac Stern); and the Scythian Suite , along with the usual suspects. This 1974–75 Alexander Nevsky , his second version, is a tour de force; Betty Allen is impressive (singing in Russian) in “The Field of the Dead,” and “The Battle on the Ice” is larger than life. The sound is among the best of the Ormandy RCAs, very immediate, with terrific bass response.


The Bells , recorded in 1973, isn’t quite as spectacular sounding; it’s as though the presence of soloists causes the pickup of the orchestra to lose immediacy. The work is sung in English, a retranslation of Balmont’s Russian. A Philadelphia specialty (Ormandy had first recorded it in 1954), it should have been a winner. But the real weak link is the soloists; George Shirley is fine, if not soaring, in the first movement, but Phyllis Curtin wobbles in the second, and in the remarkable final movement (with more lovely work by Rosenblatt) Michael Devlin uses a full operatic fortissimo regardless of the actual dynamic marking. Still, Ormandy is never less than authoritative in Rachmaninoff, and the Prokofiev is an absolute winner.

FANFARE: Richard A. Kaplan

These are two very fine performances. Ormandy proves himself to be surprisingly exciting in Nevsky, particularly in the first half of The Battle on the Ice. Betty Allen's voice doesn't ever seem to have been beautiful, and her registers are uneven, but that small deficit aside, most listeners will find little to complain about. The last movement, with percussion well to the fore, is more cinematic than the actual film, though no one can pretend that these balances are in any way natural.

Always a terrific Rachmaninov conductor, and with a fine cast of soloists, Ormandy delivers a powerful performance of The Bells. Yes, the version used is the English re-translation of the Russian original, but the Temple University Choirs sing with amazingly clear diction, even in the wild "Alarm Bells" third movement. The engineering here is far more naturally balanced than in Nevsky, though as with most of the discs in this Japanese RCA series it could use a state-of-the-art remastering. Available "on demand" from Arkivmusic.com, and demand it you should.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Orff: Carmina Burana

As one of the finest pianists of his era and an improviser of genius, Ludwig van Beethoven’s preferred vehicle for musical exploration was the piano. With his five piano concertos composed between 1788 and 1809, he not only achieved a brilliant conclusion to the Classical piano concerto, but also established a new model for the Romantic era: a sort of symphony with obbligato piano which was to remain a reference point well into the twentieth century. After the first two concertos, which still closely follow the models of Haydn and Mozart, Concerto No. 3 marks a profound stylistic change. In the piano part, Beethoven pushes the instrument to its limits, leading commentators to remark that he was writing for the piano of the future. This trend continued and reached its fullness in the Fourth and Fifth Concertos, which today rank among the great composer’s most admired works.

In 2009, Haochen Zhang was the youngest pianist ever to receive the Gold Medal at the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition. Since then he has captivated audiences worldwide with a unique combination of deep musical sensitivity, fearless imagination and spectacular virtuosity. He now performs the five Beethoven concertos supported by the prestigious Philadelphia Orchestra under its principal guest conductor, the charismatic Nathalie Stutzmann.

REVIEWS:

In a crowded pool of complete Beethoven piano concerto recordings, young Chinese pianist Haochen Zhang makes an impressive splash with his traversal of one of the most imposing cycles in the entire repertoire. With French conductor Nathalie Stutzmann leading the Philadelphia Orchestra, Zhang deftly handles Beethoven’s fiendish runs and cadenzas throughout these five imposing works. Most memorable are the 3rd and 4th concertos, which have the most balance between urgency and delicacy.

-- The Flip Side

BRUCKNER Symphonies: No. 4; 1 No. 9. 2 MOZART Symphony No. 35 in D “Haffner” 3 • Bruno Walter, cond; 1 NBC SO. 2 Philadelphia O. 3 New York PO • MUSIC & ARTS CD-1262 (2 CDs: 127:30) Live: 1 02/10/1940, 2 02/28/1948, 3 02/06/1944


Having recently obtained an extensive collection of acetates from the estate of a private music collector, the Music & Arts label is issuing some fruits of that here in the form of live performances by Bruno Walter. Two items—the Bruckner Ninth and the Mozart “Haffner” symphonies—are previously unissued items; the Bruckner Fourth was released on Pearl GEMM CD 9131 but here enjoys slightly but tangibly superior sound. While still constricted, it is tolerably listenable by the standards one would expect for a recording of that vintage. Here the weak bass register is noticeably stronger and clearer, background hiss is slightly reduced, occasional fluctuations in pitch have been evened out, and assorted clicks and pops and similar extraneous noises excised or reduced. However, the Pearl release is still not superfluous, as this issue does not include the filler pieces by Weber and Smetana (the overtures to Oberon and The Bartered Bride ).


While none of these items is, strictly speaking, a novelty in the Walter discography, the performance of the Bruckner Fourth preserved here is of particular interest to both Brucknerians and Walterians. The Walter discography contains only two versions of this score: the live one presented here, and the conductor’s studio recording with the Columbia Symphony Orchestra, recorded from February 13-25, 1960. (The discography of the CSO is complex, because Columbia used that moniker for several different studio orchestras in various locales. In Walter’s case, the monaural recordings are with a reduced contingent of the New York Philharmonic and other local musicians, while his stereo recordings are with a core ensemble drawn from the Los Angeles Philharmonic and the Los Angeles Festival Orchestra, supplemented by members of various Hollywood film studio orchestras.) The Sony SMK 64 481 issue of the studio performance is presently available—as are most of the titles in Sony’s erstwhile “Bruno Walter Edition”—as an ArkivMusic reprint.


What is most remarkable is how radically Walter’s conception of this piece changed over 20 years, with the respective timings providing an initial indication: 16:32, 14:32, 8:27, and 18:32 versus 18:40, 15:37, 10:59, and 20:46. Walter does use different editions of the score—the 1888-89 Löwe/Guttmann version in 1940, and the 1936 Haas edition of the 1878/80 version in 1960. (For the 1960 recording I am taking the word of John F. Berky on his abruckner.com discography site over that of Sony, which states in its CD booklet that Walter used the 1953 Nowak edition.) However, this in no way accounts for the differences, as most of them are matters of instrumental detail (e.g., the radically reduced orchestration in the Scherzo at 8:13-8:16 in the 1940 performance as compared to the same passage at 8:20-8:23 in the 1960 recording) rather than cuts in the score. Instead, Walter’s earlier interpretation is far more volatile, not only in terms of significantly faster tempi but also in more generous use of accelerandi and other tempo modifications. For example, in 1940 there is an adrenaline rush on an ascending scale from 1:41 to 1:52 not employed in 1960, while in the fourth movement the 1940 performance takes only a mild ritardando at 8:13 to 8:16 but in 1960 a very emphatic one in the same passage at 8:20 to 8:23. In 1940 the Scherzo movement is taken at an exceptionally brisk pace, whereas in 1960 it is stately, with the trio section being positively languorous. Similarly, whereas in 1960 Walter squares off phrases in the more emphatic manner common to most Bruckner performances nowadays, demarcating discrete units as aural equivalents of the giant stone blocks used to construct Gothic cathedrals, in 1940 the phrasing is noticeably more fluid and linear, particularly in woodwind runs that ripple like rapidly flowing rivulets (cf. at 15:24 in the first movement). How much these changes owe to the oft-noted differences in Walter’s recordings made before and after his March 1957 heart attack, and how much they may owe to the conductor possibly seeking to elaborate greater distinctions between his approaches to Bruckner and Mahler, can only be a subject of speculation. In any case, in these respects the 1940 performance is akin to the relatively few complete Bruckner symphony performances that survive from before WW II, and suggest an earlier school of performance which is now well-nigh extinct. Both for that reason, and for the intriguing snapshot of how Walter’s interpretation of this piece shifted over the years, this recording is of particular interest for collectors of historical performances.


The companion performance in this set of the Bruckner Ninth lacks the same degree of intrinsic value, in that there are eight surviving recorded performances from Walter’s baton, variously given with the New York Philharmonic, Philadelphia Orchestra, Vienna Philharmonic, Los Angeles Philharmonic, and Columbia Symphony. The table below provides details for comparison. In this and the succeeding tables, if a particular performance has appeared more than once on CD, I have cited the best version currently in print; studio recordings are marked with an asterisk. For the timings in this instance, I have used those provided by Mark W. Kluge in his notes to the 2003 Music and Arts release of the 1946 performance, except for the 1948 and 1950 performances not listed by him.




FANFARE: Date Orchestra CD Issue (if any) Timings


03/17/46 NYP Music & Arts CD-1110 21:42 9:37 19: 42


02/28/48 PO Music & Arts CD-1262 21:19 9:43 19:28


02/02/50 NYP none (private collection) 20:12 9:55 19: 15


08/20/53 VPO Andromeda ANDRCD 9092 21:10 10:09 19:17


12/27/53 NYP Tahra TAH 571 20:32 10:09 19:46


02/10/57 NYP Music & Arts CD-1212 19:59 10:01 19: 14


11/13/59 LAP none (private collection) 22:30 10:53 21: 58


11/16-19/59 CSO Sony SMK 64 483* 23:51 11:29 23:16


As Kluge rightly states in the booklet notes to the 2003 disc of Walter’s 1946 performance, “Walter’s live performances of the Ninth Symphony preserved on tape show a certain consistency, varying in individual nuance rather than interpretive outline”. In the booklet notes to the present release he further observes, “All of his live performances of the score display certain common interpretive details,” of which he provides several examples, such as “the very precise (almost clipped) brass interjections in the opening bars.” Unremarked upon by Kluge, except for a passing observation that the studio account “lacks the fire of Walter’s live performances,” is the extraordinary speed and drive of Walter’s conception of the work, which in the pre-1959 performances clocks in at between 49:22 (the fastest recorded performance by any conductor) and 51:01. Among the almost 400 complete performances listed in the abruckner.com discography, only Volkmar Andreae, Jascha Horenstein, Georg-Ludwig Jochum, Roger Norrington, plus (amazingly) John Barbirolli and Hans Knappertsbusch, have timings within three minutes of Walter. This work alone gives the lie to the stereotype of Walter as a cushy, gentle interpreter given solely to Gemütlichkeit rather than Sturm und Drang.


Despite their overall similarity, the pre-1959 performances do not suffer from lack of variety or interest. With the exception of the live 1959 performance, which stems from a relatively poor source, the sound quality improves incrementally with the more recent performance date, though the sonic differences between the three performances from 1953-57 are rather minimal. For me, the key factor in evaluating the first six performances is Walter’s approach to and follow-through from the fortissimo recapitulation of the first theme of the opening movement, beginning at about halfway through the movement. For the approach to the recapitulation, the recap itself, and the section immediately thereafter, Walter demarcates each of the three sections with a marked caesura and tempo adjustment. There are noticeable differences to how he does this in several of the performances; although these may simply be differences of the moment, they suggest instead that he was not entirely satisfied with his handling of these sections and was constantly searching for new and better solutions. I find the 1946 performance to be the least satisfactory; as the timing of the first movement indicates, Walter there inserts greater pauses and slows down each section more than usual, causing the whole to lose coherency and momentum and to bog down. Walter also takes two major ritardandi early on, at 1:55 and 3:00, that he drops after the 1948 Philadelphia performance, which has a similarly hobbling effect. (For a more positive response, see Robert McColley’s review back in 26:6.) By contrast, the unreleased 1950 performance is the most successful, having a fierce energy and the least pronounced breaks and tempo deceleration.


The three performances from 1948 and 1953 occupy a middle ground between these extremes; here the differences are to be found more in the distinctive timbres of the respective orchestras. In his booklet notes to the 1946 performance, Kluge states that “the warmer style of the Vienna Philharmonic added a sense of plasticity and nuance not as evident in the later [1953] New York performance,” given the latter orchestra’s “virile, even aggressive playing style.” I would agree, but I find a certain slackness present in the Vienna performance as well, and its recorded sound is slightly more recessed. Comparing the New York and Philadelphia ensembles in the present booklet notes, Kluge correctly finds “a contrast in style between the two ensembles. The Philharmonic sonority is bold and brassy, making the most of Bruckner’s dramatic climaxes. However the Philadelphia ensemble, even in its first encounter with the score, adds a patina of refinement”—due no doubt to the orchestra’s fabled string section. Finally, in 1957 Walter attempts a hybrid solution that combines pronounced Luftpausen with his briskest tempi, a solution I prefer to all but the 1950 performance (see also the positive review by Jeffrey J. Lipscomb in 32: 3).


The two 1959 performances are, as their timings indicate, of a very different character—ultimately no less dramatic, but more monumental and in line with the mainstream of Bruckner interpretations, while also evincing the more rounded edges of Walter’s trademark lyricism in other repertoire. Given both the relatively poor sound of the preceding live performance, and some ill-fitting junctures in it that suggest Walter’s new interpretation not to be fully settled, the studio recording is easily preferable between those two. Along with the 1957 performance—and that of 1950, for those few who can find it from private sources—the studio recording is also one of the top choices for Brucknerians who want Walter represented in their collections.


Despite Walter’s intense devotion to Bruckner following his recovery from a near-fatal bout of double pneumonia in 1927 (Walter credited his convalescence with giving him the spiritual repose needed to comprehend Bruckner rightly), many commentators have regarded his studio Bruckner recordings, especially that of the Ninth, as relative weak points in his discography. Devoted Walterian that I am, I nevertheless agree with that assessment; Walter never mastered the timing of the numerous pauses in Bruckner’s symphonic movements, and choosing the manifold subtle shifts in tempi needed to make the sprawling movements cohere, to the same degree as did Wilhelm Furtwängler and Eugen Jochum, my own Bruckner reference standards. Part of the fault here, however, lies not with Walter but with Columbia’s miscalculated decision to use an orchestra of only 65 players for the recording sessions—possibly due to a degree of parsimony, but also because the extremely lively acoustics of Legion Hall would have caused a full-sized orchestra to be swamped with reverberation. The fact that Walter almost fully succeeds in disguising the paucity of string players and producing a genuine Brucknerian orchestral sound testifies to near-miraculous conductorial skills.


The 1948 performance of the Bruckner Ninth in Philadelphia was paired in concert with a performance of Mozart’s “Haffner” Symphony. Since only the Bruckner was broadcast for a one-hour time slot, the performance of the Mozart was not preserved. In its stead, Music and Arts has thoughtfully provided a previously unreleased 1944 New York Philharmonic broadcast of the work. Mozart occupies a large and special place in Walter’s discography. In terms of frequency of surviving performances, the “Haffner” has seven recordings—five live and two studio, with the NBC Symphony, Boston Symphony, New York Philharmonic, and Columbia Symphony. It thus ranks behind No. 40 (eleven performances, eight live and three studio) and No. 39 (eight recordings, five live and three studio), and is tied with the “Prague” (seven recordings, four live and three studio). The following table again provides details for comparison; note that Tahra misdates the 1953 performance to January 5 instead of January 4.


Date Orchestra CD Issue (if any) Timings


02/17/40 NBC SO Andromeda ANDRCD 9012 5:02 4:31 3:10 3: 33


02/06/44 NYP Music and Arts CD-1262 5:15 4:44 3:16 3: 33


01/21/47 BSO Wing WCD 58 (Japan) 5:11 4:29 3:17 3:37


02/05/50 NYP none (private collection) 5:33 5:05 3: 25 3:43


01/04/53 NYP Tahra TAH 571-572 5:29 4:54 3:33 3:55


01/16/53 NYP Sony SMK 64 473* 5:27 4:44 3:21 3:46


01/13-21/59 CSO Sony SM3K 46 511* 5:58 5:13 3:49 4:04


Here one notes that until the final, post-heart attack, stereo recording, Walter’s interpretive approach remains remarkably consistent, broadening very slightly in tempi with the passing years. As before, sound quality generally improves in successive performances, save for the decidedly poor-sounding Boston Symphony issue and the somewhat tubby sound of the unedited source for the 1950 performance. Yet here, too, there are subtle differences, with the 1944 performance under review being the most distinctive. At 1:15 in the first movement, Walter slows the tempo for the lyrical counter-subject to a far greater degree than elsewhere, and likewise beginning at 4:40 accelerates the tempo to a far greater degree to provide a whirlwind close. Not unexpectedly from an ensemble drilled under Toscanini, the NBC performance features particularly strong, crisp accents on chords and fluid runs on strings and winds. The live 1953 performance has a higher voltage than the studio recording that followed it, though it suffers from a rather glassy, shrill treble register (for a different opinion on the last point, see Mortimer H. Frank’s review in 14:4). The stereo recording has of course by far the best sound, but its slower tempi drain it of the vitality characteristic of Walter’s earlier performances. The 1944 performance is in surprisingly good sound for its time, and I would rate it alongside the two 1953 versions as the best of his performances of this work.


The remasterings of the original sources have obviously been done with the meticulous care that marks all Music and Arts issues. Mark Kluge’s booklet notes are exemplary; they include a brief discussion of recent Bruckner scholarship that defends the Löwe/Guttmann edition of the Fourth as one genuinely authorized by Bruckner rather than riding roughshod over his true intentions, and also discuss Walter’s various retouchings of the timpani and brass parts in different performances of the Ninth. (Kluge does not discuss the 1950 performance, but the excision of the trombone parts from certain passages of the Scherzo that occurs in the 1957 and 1959 performances also occurs there, though curiously not in the intervening ones from 1953.) The booklet and tray card have a typographical error that gives the total time of the second disc as 50:30, which is the timing of the Bruckner Ninth alone; the correct total time is 68:20. For Walterians, this release is self-recommending; for Brucknerians and collectors of historic performances, it will be of interest primarily for the Bruckner Fourth, and secondarily for the “Haffner” and the Ninth. To each of these interested parties, this release is warmly recommended.

James A. Altena

Gilels's playing is leonine and fiery, and his virtuosity is never less than imposing. There is much poetry, too...

-- Gramophone [6/1983]
reviewing the first CD release of the Gilels/Mehta Piano Concerto, CBS 36660


David Oistrakh plays...with the total skill and musicianship which seem as rewarding today as they did 20 years ago... [T]he Philadelphia strings are both very strong and very impressive.

-- Gramophone [12/1982]
reviewing an LP release of the Oistrakh/Ormandy Violin Conceto, CBS 60312

SIBELIUS: FINLANDIA, VALSE TRI

Franck: Symphony in D Minor, M. 48, Symphonic Variations, M.

Dvorak's three concertos were written in 1876 (piano), 1883 (violin) and 1894 (cello). Like Gerald Finzi, another transcendental national lyric composer, Dvo?ák's last orchestral work was a cello concerto.

Both works are given the customary weight by the Philadelphian strings. In fact Ormandy encourages a strong symphonic approach to these two works. This is the orchestral equivalent of a sleek Bentley. The Cello Concerto emerges best of the two works. However first to the Violin Concerto. This is a work I have always felt affectionate towards. My reference set is the Supraphon recording with Josef Suk. The Sony has Stern in place of Suk. Stern's touch of schmaltz and flashiness sometimes jars in such a cleanly rustic nationalist work. However there is much to take pleasure in too. At 10.12 in the first movement no-one, not even Suk, achieves that moment of pulse-stilling calm. Another example is the needle-fragile crystal glass dance Stern evokes at the start of the Allegro giocoso. This is a good interpretation but the age of the recording tells against it marginally but noticeably.

Leonard Rose is ripe, noble, brilliant, edgy, resinous of tone and exciting and he brings all the strengths that we know from his Sony recording of the Brahms Double Concerto. The sound quality is a notch or two above that for the other Dvo?ák work on this disc but still grainy in texture.

-- Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International

Chopin, Debiles & Tchaikovsky: Ballet Music

I didn't at all take to Fleisher's account of Beethoven No. 3, but I must say that this is a most impressive and exciting account of the Emperor, aided and abetted by a wonderful accompaniment from Szell and his orchestra—and, I mustn't forget, by a most intelligently balanced recording.

Fleisher plays the first movement with splendid brio and the dash with which he gives out the opening flourishes is equalled by the orchestra's attack and energy when it starts the tutti. In one passage of brilliant semiquavers he tends to hurry very slightly, both times it comes, but in general his rhythm is excellent. There are, too, passages of most lovely liquid playing, a kind of brush of quiet sound, beautiful not only as sound but admirable in that they let woodwind solos come through without any forcing by the players. Fleisher is obviously always aware of what's going on in the orchestra and knows when he should be taking part in chamber music, rather than always holding the front of the stage. He does indulge in a wide range of speeds but not, I suppose, more than is usually done. The slow movement is played simply by both soloist and orchestra, as it should be— yet it's a difficult thing to play something so apparently simply but make it as moving as it is here.

At the very end of the movement (bar 80) you may be surprised to hear the strings play a long crotchet, arco, instead of the pizzicato to which we are all so used (which starts only at the last quaver of the bar). I asked Denis Matthews (always a mine of Beethoven information) about this and he told me he had played the concerto with Szell and was quite astonished at rehearsal when the expected 'plonk' from the strings didn't happen. Szell told him that Beethoven's autograph has the `pizz' written over the rests in the middle of the bar: and I now see that the preface in the Eulenburg miniature score states the same thing (despite which, the word is printed at the start of the bar!). This is not a trivial point, for it occurs, of course, at just about the most magical moment of the whole concerto and I do think that the long, grave, B flat from the strings is far more apt than the rather disturbing 'plonk' which emphasizes Beethoven's change from B to B flat in the wrong way.

The finale goes splendidly all through and I only don't like Fleisher's mannered playing of part of the main theme each time. I refer to the bars marked espressivo, which would appear to suggest something other than his jerky delivery of the right hand phrases. But this is a small point and there is no doubt that this is the sort of performance that will make you enjoy the music afresh, for the playing all through the concerto is both zestful and perceptive; Szell's contribution is an added source of pleasure—and the admirable engineering complements the players' artistry.

-- Gramophone [1/1966, reviewing the original LP release of the Emperor Concerto]

------------------------------

The apologies invariably made for Beethoven's Triple Concerto seem to have an effect on performances. I have rarely, if ever, known one which did not in some respect carry an apology with it, and I have rarely, if ever, known one which treated the work in the strong bravura way which makes for success in the Emperor or violin concertos. But here is just such a performance, and it makes one glory in what Beethoven did achieve in the work.

The scale of the work as conceived by Stern, Rose and Istomin is quite different from that of the rival performances on record, however enjoyable. The precision and stylishness of Schneiderhan, Fournier and Anda on DGG make for an eighteenthcentury manner in the outer movements, particularly the first. Some may well continue to prefer it, and technically the balance with the orchestra is better than on the new CBS disc, but the newly roused echoes of other Beethoven concertos place the Stern/ Rose/Istomin performance in the right period. It is after all a produce of the Fidelio years, the years which also produced the Fourth Piano Concerto, the Violin Concerto and the Symphonies Nos. 4 to 6. It is possible to regard the formalism of the outer movements, their conscientious balance of thematic statements by each of the three soloists in turn, as a return to eighteenth-century practice, but the sheer size speaks rather of a really grand manner. And if the thematic material is more bald and less striking than that in other Beethoven concertos (at least in the first movement) there was a practical need with three soloists to keep ideas short.

In achieving a sense of size Stern, Rose and Istomin reveal their own stature in the relaxation of the playing. Lesser players would either screw up the tension or become ponderous, but these three over and over again convey the joy of their playing: the relaxed lilt of the second subject, Rose's natural warmth in the slow movement enunciation, the whole of the final Rondo Polacca. Not only has the main Polacca theme tremendous verve, the middle episode, when the `yatta-tah-ta-tah-ta' rhythm emerges on horn and lower woodwind, has a unique tang of East European music. Stern obviously takes the idea of a Polacca literally and exaggerates the first beat in each dactyllic phrase, giving a real bounce to the music, and he is matched by his colleagues.

Then the semiquaver allegro reprise of the main theme towards the end is taken very fast and very clear, the result extraordinarily exciting. You have only to compare the DGG performance, very fast too and excellent in its way, to realize why Stern's, Rose's and Istomin's playing is not merely vital but great. Equally exciting are the furious florid dialogues between violin and 'cello in the passage-work of first and last movements. All three soloists are masterly in varying the tension, in shaping towards climaxes, and Ormandy draws from the Philadelphia Orchestra yet another of his really full-blooded accompaniments. In relation to the soloists the orchestra may seem a little backward, but the salient tuttis burst out with great effect, to match the scale of the soloists' playing. The nearness of the soloists does of course make it hard for them to sound as though they are playing really softly, and initial sotto voce entries in the finale are too loud.

In my detailed comparisons I have occasionally found points in which rivals score over Stern, Rose and Istomin, and the other CBS version has Serkin in marvellous form actually dominating the performance from the least prominent solo part, the non-virtuoso piano role originally devised for the Archduke Rudolf. But no minor shortcomings can alter the positive merits of what could well come to be regarded as a classic record.

-- Gramophone [10/1965, reviewing the original LP release of the Triple Concerto]

TCHAIKOVSKY: SYMPHONY NO 5, SE

Let’s cut right to the chase: Ormandy’s Tallis Fantasia is one of the reference versions of the work, while his Delius is every bit as fine as Beecham’s. It has all of the same virtues: flowing tempos (indeed, in Brigg Fair he’s a minute quicker), magnificent orchestral playing, and a willingness to let the music unfold freshly and naturally. The only reason these performances fail to receive the acclaim that they deserve is because the English press, historically, has been quick to dismiss foreigners who dare to compete with home-grown talent in “their” music, and no one else much cares.

Still, just listen to the massed Philadelphia strings in the first great tutti of the Tallis Fantasia (first sound sample). This is great playing, and beyond that Ormandy’s tempo, a bit quicker than usual, gives the music an uncommon degree of energy without compromising its nobility of spirit. The Fantasia on ‘Greensleeves’ is basically indestructible and certainly in no danger here, while Sony offers a lovely bonus in the form of The Lark Ascending, affectingly played by Cleveland Orchestra concertmaster Rafael Druian and the Cleveland Sinfonietta under Louis Lane.

As for the Delius works, has there ever been a more purely beautiful version of In a Summer Garden? Or a more rapturously played recording of Brigg Fair (second sound sample)? Ormandy’s reputation has never been lower than it is at present, but there was a reason he was Sony’s (Columbia’s) “house” conductor in the 50s and 60s. He and his orchestra maintained a level of versatility and polish that no one else could match, and his catholicity of taste was remarkable. This surprising disc makes a fine tribute to his art, and an eloquent reminder of his achievement in repertoire for which he was, to put it mildly, not a household name.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

WAGNER: ORCHESTRAL HIGHLIGHTS

Debussy: La mer, Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune, Danse &

"The emotional fabric of this music draws a warm response from Ormandy and the Philadelphia to produce fine accounts of both the Sixth Symphony and Romeo and Juliet. The introduction to the Sixth is suitably full of expectation, and the third movement full of vitality. Both the playing and sound quallty are superb." Performance: 5 (out of 5), Sound: 5 (out of 5) -- Nicholas Rast, BBC Music Magazine

HOLST: THE PLANETS ORMANDY

*** This title is a reissue of a Japanese release with liner notes in Japanese. ***

*** This title is a reissue of a Japanese release with liner notes in Japanese. ***

*** This title is a reissue of a Japanese release with liner notes in Japanese. ***

One of the glories of Ormandy’s RCA discography... This CD is a Gem.

The main work here, recorded in 1971, is one of the glories of Ormandy’s RCA discography. Based on Russian folklore, Ilya Murometz is a sprawling, magnificent, elaborate score that showcases the virtuoso orchestra in a rich, late-Romantic style. Ormandy was almost certainly introduced to this score by Leopold Stokowski, who recorded it in 1940 during a period in which he was still conducting the orchestra in recordings, even though Ormandy had taken over as the sole music director. Ormandy first recorded the work in 1956, only a year before Columbia began recording in stereo. Both he and Stokowski took fairly radical cuts; playing the symphony complete did not become fashionable until the arrival of the CD era. Here Ormandy shows no signs of age; he luxuriates in the sounds his orchestra makes, and while the celebrated Philadelphia strings are astonishing in Gliére’s intricate figurations, it is the brass section that really carries the day. Unless almost 59 minutes of Ilya Murometz are not enough for you, this performance and recording will knock your socks off.

The brief Rachmaninoff folk-song settings are late works, written in 1926 and given their world premiere performance by the Philadelphia Orchestra under Stokowski; this is Ormandy’s only recording of them, sung in English. They show Rachmaninoff to be, as I have claimed before in these pages, the most underrated orchestrator of the 20th Century. In the first song Rachmaninoff makes a miniature tone poem of the simple, strophic tune sung by unison male voices; the second, written for unison women’s voices, hints at the Symphonic Dances in its woodwind figurations. The whimsical third, usually given the title “Powder’d Paint” in English, was a favorite of Rachmaninoff’s; RCA’s complete edition of his recordings includes a performance of this by a Russian folk artist with the composer improvising a piano accompaniment. This CD is a gem.

-- Richard Kaplan, Fanfare

*** This title is a reissue of a Japanese release with liner notes in Japanese. ***

*** This title is a reissue of a Japanese release with liner notes in Japanese. ***