RCA - Red Seal

Combining Schoenberg and Beethoven seems like a daft idea, yet Leinsdorf pulled it off in 1969 as part of his last concerts as Music Director of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. RCA recorded the results a few days later. Schoenberg's 6-minute music drama deals with the slaughter and ultimate spiritual triumph of Jews about to be transported to a Nazi death-camp. The work's climax is a setting for unison men's voices of the prayer Shema Yisroel. From this it is a hopeful step to Schiller's and Beethoven's "Alle Menschen werden Brüder," but isn't it beautiful to think so? Milnes speaks the Schoenberg's text grippingly, and Leinsdorf was seldom this dramatic. The entry of the men's chorus is hair-raising. The "Choral" Symphony also has a gripping sense of occasion to it. Leinsdorf shows unwonted impetuosity in his approach to tempos, and the Boston Symphony Orchestra, while not consistently as refined as it could be, plays the music tautly. There is drama and animal excitement in this reading, tempered by Leinsdorf's central European savvy. The chorus is lusty, and the soloists strong; Domingo, still in the early days of his stardom, is memorable in his "Turkish" solo. The engineering was fine then and it is gloriously alive now. (All of Leinsdorf's Boston Beethoven cycle is available in Europe on the super-budget "Explorer" label, and American collectors might want to place an order abroad to explore it, because it is very good).

Jean Martinon's Ravel disc is a treasurable souvenir of his relatively brief tenure with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. The Daphnis suite was taped in 1964, shortly after the Reiner years came to an end, and the other four works were taped in 1968, right at the end of Martinon's time with the orchestra. He would go on to make new recordings of these works with the Orchestre de Paris, but the virtuosity of the Chicagoans and the recording engineers put this disc in a special class. The Rapsodie Espagnole is magically sensuous, especially in the opening "Prélude à la nuit." Throughout, Martinon precisely measures and mixes Ravel's ingredients, and the result is a heat-producing chemical reaction which belies the conductor's control. There's nothing cold or calculating about this musicianship -- just red-blooded excitement. Martinon presents Alborada del gracioso as a cool impressionist sketch to contrast with the Rapsodie's expressionism. In Ma mère l'oye, Martinon turns story-teller, and is tender, gentle, and ever so lightly sentimental. Only in the final "Le jardin féerique" does one look for a little more spectacle. The Orchestra's principal harpist (Edward Druzinsky), flutist (Donald Peck), and clarinetist (Clark Brody) excel in the Introduction and Allegro, a piece as gorgeous as it is underplayed. Finally, in the Daphnis suite, Martinon's long-lined sensuousness makes one regret only that he didn't record the entire ballet for RCA in Chicago. These were good sounding LPs, and these digital remasterings uncover even more warmth and detail.

Schubert's "Trout" Quintet is practically indestructible, whether it's played for charm or for drive. The Guarneri Quartet (actually, just violinist John Dalley, violist Michael Tree, and cellist David Soyer here), joined by Emanuel Ax and Julius Levine, usually take an uncontroversial, middle of the road approach. The tendency, however, is more towards to New World than to the Old, and so the odd-numbered movements purr along efficiently with plenty of vigor and display. The slow movement and the variations themselves are more relaxed, if not particularly distinctive. Dalley's pinched tone in the upper registers may be wearing for some listeners. This recording was made in 1983.

Mata's program of popular showpieces is strong throughout, and I have no reservations about the quality of the recording --- balanced and brilliant, this is the best sounding disc of the current batch. (These digital recordings were made in 1980 and 1981.) No one should doubt that the Dallas Symphony Orchestra can rank among the best American orchestras after hearing this disc. The Capriccio italien boasts burnished timbres from the brass. In the first part of the work, wind solos are played liltingly and with a charming lightness, and later on, excitement is achieved without force; this is not a driven reading. Similarly, Mata finds a persuasive delicacy in Mussorgsky's A Night on Bald Mountain and Dukas's The Sorcerer's Apprentice. The latter work is done drily, with humor of the most deadpan variety; one never believes that this apprentice truly was in danger. Mata gives Enescu's Romanian Rhapsody No.1 a touch of elegance to go along with the picture-postcard colors, and the adrenaline that flows as the music pushes forward is judiciously applied.  Finally, the Bolero is played at a reasonably measured tempo (14:51) that gives plenty of time for the nuances to register; every solo appearance is an occasion for the musician to establish his or her personality. Mata builds the music to an inexorable and irresistible climax while never relinquishing control. All in all, this is a collection of showpieces that succeeds much better than Ormandy's, an earlier entrant in the High Performance series (09026-63313-2). (Ormandy's disc duplicates the works by Mussorgsky and Dukas.)

At its initial release, Ozawa's Philips recording of Carmina Burana eclipsed this Boston version from 1970; now it is time to reassess Ozawa's earlier thoughts. Admirably, he downplays Orff the vulgarian and shapes this most popular of 20th-century choral works into something more than just a series of orgiastic bangs and crashes. When Orff asks for slow tempos, Ozawa is slow indeed, creating an almost hypnotic state in parts of "Uf dem Anger." Elsewhere, he is fast, but not ridiculously so, and unlike some other conductors, when Ozawa sets a tempo, he holds it, unless Orff requires him to do otherwise. Mandac's solos are not very interesting, yet she sings prettily enough. Kolk makes a good effect in the "roasted swan" song, and Milnes is sexily (but subtly) charismatic in his solos. The choruses are a mixed bag. The New England Conservatory Chorus has rough moments, and the tenors are weak. Still, the group has spirit, and it is funny to hear some of the choristers dramatically rolling their r's while others sing the Latin text with an obvious American accent. The children's chorus is tentative. The remastering gives this recording impressive clarity but less impressive weight. Texts and translations are included.

Also released in this batch of High Performance discs, but not received for review, is a live recording of Vladimir Horowitz playing Rachmaninoff's Third Piano Concerto at Carnegie Hall on January 8, 1978 (09026-63681-2). As I remember this performance, Horowitz is very exciting, but he approximates many of the concerto's most virtuosic passages, so this disc doesn't show him at his best. Still, it's hard not to scream along with the audience once it is all over. (Eugene Ormandy conducts the New York Philharmonic). The coupling is Rachmaninoff's Second Piano Sonata.

Even though the music of Gustav Mahler has not been central to Michael Tilson Thomas's discography, the elusive Seventh Symphony has taken him to a new peak in what is already a distinguished career. Because this is the least familiar of Mahler's nine completed symphonies, it was clever of Tilson Thomas to plant his flag here, where the competition seems thinner. Nevertheless, conductors such as Leonard Bernstein and Giuseppe Sinopoli have done memorable Sevenths, and Tilson Thomas's new version is not wide of the standards that they set.

As I repeatedly listen to this new recording, it is Bernstein who comes to mind. Bernstein's two recordings of the Seventh Symphony (one for Columbia and one for Deutsche Grammophon) brought out the conductor's best. Like Bernstein, Tilson Thomas ensures that the music's incipient strangeness is neither exaggerated nor forgotten. Both conductors are highly attentive to the endless textural details that distinguish a tolerable performance from an exciting one. The Seventh is full of uncanny colors and quirky ideas, particularly in the two "Night Music" movements, and Tilson Thomas realizes them without allowing them to interrupt the music's flow. I disagree with the statement that this symphony is a journey from night to day, and the hectic final movement (hectic, at least, in Tilson Thomas's conception) hardly seems like an unmitigated human victory.

Indeed, a "planned disorder" seems to be just beneath the finale's surface, and Tilson Thomas is successful at making it work in the music's favor.

Tilson Thomas's relatively expansive tempos necessitate the use of two discs, but RCA is not passing the cost of the additional disc on to buyers. I feel like this symphony at times has been rushed in order to fit it on one CD, and I am glad that neither the conductor nor the label have been so pressured this time around.

Ian Bousfeld, who plays the crucial tenor horn solos, gets deserved recognition in the annotations. The entire London Symphony Orchestra really is on top of things, however, and there's an tautness and an electricity to their playing, both in solo and ensemble passages, that is enviable.

This is not an easy symphony, and it may never be as popular as its sisters, but Tilson Thomas and the London Symphony Orchestra have approached it with missionary zeal. The engineering (by Markus Heiland) is consistent with the quality of the performance.

For most collectors, the connection between Wand and Bruckner goes back to the recordings that he made with the Cologe Radio Symphony Orchestra. These originally were released on Deutsche Harmonia Mundi, and later on RCA Victor Gold Seal. The "Romantic" released in that series comes from 1976. In the interim - it doesn't seem like 22 years! - Wand has made many recordings, and Bruckner's music has remained central to his repertoire.

Born in 1912, Wand was on the far side of his 80s when he conducted this new Berlin version. Although his tempos have become a little more expansive, his interpretation has become, if anything, younger. Melodies sing out more alluringly, rhythms are given greater spring, phrasing is more supple, and orchestral textures are more open. Of course the Berliners surpass the Cologne orchestra, even in a live setting, and improvements in the recording process (the earlier recordings were analogue) make a difference as well.

RCA's recording team captures the glow of the orchestra and its wonderful hall. Occasional coughs and other audience noises are not distracting, given the concentration of the music-making. You will be pulled into this performance, even if you tend to resist Bruckner's symphonies. This is a must-get recording.

Emil Gilels recorded the Second Piano Sonata in 1965; the location was Carnegie Hall. This is another valuable addition to the High Performance series. Gilels creates an uncanny effect through understatement, and the clarity of his playing generates a tension that is more palpable than anything that would have resulted from the exaggeration of details. If you want the Sonata on disc, this should be your top choice. The sound quality is a bit less fine here than in the symphony; it can sound a little harsh, but it's not worrisome.

BARTÓK: The Miraculous Mandarin Suite; HINDEMITH: Nobilissima visione; VARÈSE Arcana
Jean Martinon conducting the Chicago Symphony Orchestra
RCA Victor High Performance 09026-63315-2 [ADD] (60:19 - no longer available)

These are three new releases in BMG Classics's High Performance series. This series surveys noteworthy RCA recordings from the years immediately following the Living Stereo era up until the dawn of the CDs. Reissues have been chosen on the basis of both musical merit and sound quality; 24-bit resolution and a 96-kHz sampling rate have been used to maximize the frequency and dynamic range of the remasterings. The first five releases were gratifying to audiophiles, and they also gave everyday admirers of vintage recordings something to smile about too, because most of the recordings were new to CD.

In their days with Columbia Records, Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra released a series of LPs showcasing the artistry of the Orchestra's first-chair players. In the process, relatively unfamiliar concertante works by composers such as Creston and Griffes found their way to disc, often for the first time. By the time the early 1970s had rolled around, RCA Victor was taking a different approach, at least with The Fantastic Philadelphians. The repertoire was as mainstream as can be, and the opportunities for solo work were more limited. Nevertheless, the annotations dutifully note who the star players are. For example, John De Lancie plays the oboe solo near the end of Mussorgsky's Night on Bald Mountain, harpist Marilyn Costello can be clearly heard in both Chabrier's España and Ponchielli's Dance of the Hours, and xylophonist Charles Owen hits the bones in Saint-Saëns's Danse macabre.

Ormandy made his fame by recording popular works such as these, and he did it very well. I find this ironic, because Ormandy truly distinguishes himself in bigger works, and at least for me, his most memorable recordings feature him and the Philadelphians in music that is not quite in the mainstream (late Shostakovich symphonies and Sibelius's Four Legends from the Kalevala, for example). On The Fantastic Philadelphians, many of Ormandy's interpretations are decidedly on the mellow side; no one will accuse him of using cheap methods to whip up excitement. Danse macabre sounds almost like sleepwalking. Nevertheless, not a hair is out of place in these readings; they embody committed professionalism. The Ponchielli is one of the most successful selections; Ormandy exquisitely colors the first part of the ballet, and the final galop is done with pulse-quickening panache. Sonically, this CD is very impressive. The sound is full-bodied and clear at any volume level and at any density of scoring.

Horowitz's program was recorded on November 1, 1981 on the stage of the Metropolitan Opera House. The 78-year-old virtuoso was in excellent latter-day form that night, and the audience was very much on his side, as can be heard from the vociferous responses to his playing. It's easy to feel the love going in both directions.

The opening set of sonatas by Scarlatti is played with a coyly Romantic spirit, particularly in the F-Minor Sonata (Kk.466, L.118), which is like a young girl's whispery giggle here. Next, Horowitz moves on to a windswept Chopin Ballade, and then a more unusual Ballade by Liszt. This stretches the pianist's technique to the limits, and there are a few garbled passages - nothing to get too upset over, however, and his interpretation brings the music's fantasy to life. The Chopin Waltz and the Rachmaninoff Prelude are tossed off like mere nothings, off-handedly, as if to say to the audience "What a good boy am I!" All of these performances are very typical of the pianist: in softer music, his tone is uncannily caressing and bell-like, and his legato remains formidable even in louder passages. In the latter, he thunders, to the point where one wonders whether the piano can take such punishment. His approach to the music is outgoing, and if Horowitz seems perhaps overly concerned with wowing his listeners, at least he has something worth making them wow about. The live recording has transferred well to CD, and the new 24/96 remastering captures much of the live performance's sonic excitement.

Although conductor Jean Martinon's tenure with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra was brief and not particularly happy, he did leave behind some noteworthy recordings. A Nielsen Inextinguishable is distinctive (not available in the United States, see special offers and promotions), and so is this coupling of three 20th-century scores. Recorded in 1967, the Bartók and Hindemith appeared on either side of a single LP. The Varèse was recorded a year earlier, and it was coupled with Frank Martin's Concerto for Seven Wind Instruments, Timpani, Percussion and String Orchestra, another fine recording well worth reissuing.

The somewhat unrealistic spotlighting of individual instruments (the piano in the Bartók, the small percussion instruments in the Varèse) suggests that RCA was using many microphones in Medinah Temple and Orchestra Hall at the time these performances were taped. Otherwise, the engineering stands the test of time - the explosive Arcana continues to challenge recording technology. Martinon's conducting is unfussy. Rather than lingering, he moves the music along and shapes its overall architecture. Nevertheless, he is sensitive to color, and these three scores give him ample opportunity to demonstrate this. The Miraculous Mandarin is good enough to make one regret that he didn't record the entire score, and the opening section, depicting the city's bustle, is especially harrowing. Martinon emphasizes the simplicity of Nobilissima visione and the chamber music-like qualities of Arcana. His restraint prevents these challenging scores from becoming fatiguing.

In the 1960s, José Serebrier assisted Leopold Stokowski in making the landmark Columbia recording of Ives's Fourth Symphony.

Although Stokowski's recording is a classic, Serebrier's own recording of the Fourth is fully competitive, and in some ways even preferable. Serebrier took infinite pains to prepare the London Philharmonic for the sessions, which were made under trying conditions. He also painstakingly corrected errors and "improvements" that had crept into the orchestral parts over the years. As it is, in a score as complex as this one, any two performances or recordings are bound to be wildly dissimilar. At times, Serebrier's recording will convince you that you are listening to a completely different symphony than the one that Stokowski recorded! The old maestro's version is full of approximations; Serebrier's has the benefit of dozens of hours of rehearsal and recording time. Serebrier also makes more of Ives's dynamic indications and polyrhythmic flights of fancy. Nevertheless, the symphony sounds spontaneous - quite an achievement. The musicians don't always play "nice", particularly in the second movement, and this also is an improvement over Stokowski's version, where his orchestra must be happy just to play the right notes at about the right time! (Interpretation be damned!)

As with earlier High Performance issues, the quality of the recording is revelatory. The dynamic range is wide, and the instruments sound warm and detailed. The only minor disappointment is a hint of distortion in the choral passages in the Fourth's first movement. This problem soon disappears, and nothing else interferes with enjoying these extremely fine versions of Ivess idiosyncratic symphonic masterpieces.

Brittens Music Eastbourne