Günter Wand (1912-2002)
Günter Wand was the last of the great interpreters of the
19th-century tradition and his death, a week after his 90th
birthday, closes the chapter on a style of conducting which is now all
but extinct. A contemporary of Karajan, yet much closer to both Furtwängler
and Klemperer in the way he approached his chosen repertoire, he remained
something of an enigma to British audiences mainly because his choice
of works seemed so limited. In reality, this was a British truth because
in Germany he often programmed much broader repertoire.
He only really became known to many British concert-goers
in the early 1980s, firstly at Edinburgh and later at the Proms, his
last performance there in August last year in a typical Wand programme
of Schubert and Bruckner which I remember as one of the most memorable
of the season (and reprinted below). By this stage he already had to
be guided onto the podium but once there was unleashed, conducting with
a terrifying power which belied his advanced years. He may have been
bemused, even embarrassed, by the wild standing ovation which greeted
the closing bars of Bruckner’s Ninth, yet it showed how much this great
conductor had captured the hearts of the British public.
Born in Elderfeld he studied piano and composition
at an early age and, like most of the great conductors of his generation,
started work in the opera house. In 1939 he became a staff conductor
at Cologne Opera, a city which remained musically close to him throughout
his career. After the war he was appointed music director and took on
the opera house’s concert orchestra which he continued to conduct for
another 30 years. In 1981 he became chief conductor in Hamburg, an orchestra
he built in to one of the finest in the world and which he brought to
the Proms in 2001: their playing was typically fabulous, the strings
the best I have ever heard in a live performance of a Bruckner symphony.
He also found a niche in Berlin, with the Philharmonic, in his last
years culminating in a number of recordings of Bruckner symphonies which,
although not necessarily better than his recordings made in Hamburg
and Cologne, display a level of artistry the orchestra rarely matched
with other conductors. Hearing his Bruckner with the Berlin Philharmonic
was indeed special since he brought a weight and sonority to the strings
which in my experience only Celibidache matched when he appeared with
the orchestra in 1992, 38 years after he last conducted it, in Bruckner’s
Seventh.
The comparison with Klemperer and Furtwängler
is sometimes tangible. Wand widely admired Furtwängler’s conducting
but their styles were often poles apart and whereas the latter’s Bruckner
had an inescapable sense of drama about it Wand’s was often transparently
more imperious. Whilst Wand’s Bruckner never became broader than it
could be (as happened with both Celibidache and Giulini) it still had
an immovable greatness about it, stoical in the Klemperer mould. And
like Klemperer, Wand in his early years devoted a great deal of his
attention to contemporary composers – Varèse being a particular
early passion, Ligeti a slightly later one. Both eventually turned away
from contemporary music although Klemperer’s repertoire always seemed
the wider.
Where Wand differed from both was in what he wanted,
demanded, from his orchestras. Wand was a perfectionist in a way that
neither Klemperer nor Furtwängler were. For Wand orchestral perfection
was a craft and his demands for rehearsal time, often eight or more
sessions, invariably meant only radio orchestras could afford the luxury
of his talents. This is partly why only the BBC SO were his chosen British
orchestra, and yet the results were palpable. Hear anyone of the broadcasts
of the BBC playing Bruckner under Wand and the results are intense and
impressive. Yet, like Celibidache, a Wand performance never seemed manufactured,
rising to levels of inspiration in the concert hall which belied the
length of time spent on the meticulous preparation behind it. Whether
it was Mozart or Schubert, Beethoven of Bruckner, or even Tchaikovsky,
a Wand performance had an immutable sense of freedom about it.
It is true that in later years he became temperamental
at rehearsals and gained a reputation for a virulent temper, often directed
at his colleagues. Like Klemperer he could be cantankerous, but also
like Klemperer he displayed a boyish charm which endeared him to people.
Orchestras loved working with him, and the results were never less than
magnetic. He appeared a simple man, yet like Klemperer had a taste for
the finer things in life, something which seemed almost at odds with
the great passion which became Bruckner.
With the death of Günter Wand, and the death
last year of the great Japanese conductor Asahina, Bruckner interpretation
now lies in the hands of a younger generation of conductors little interested
in the historical traditions which formed the interpretations of these
giants. His death closes the book finally on a golden era of conducting.
Marc Bridle
Günter Wand, conductor, born 7th
January 1912; died 14th February 2002.
Below we reprint a review of Wand’s last UK concert
at the Proms on 24th August 2001.
PROM 46:
Schubert & Bruckner, NDR Symphony Orchestra, Hamburg, Günter
Wand, 24 August 2001 (MB)
Günter Wand, 90 next year, must now be the most
venerated conductor to stand on the rostrum of the Albert Hall. He emerged
from the wings, to open his concert with Schubert’s Unfinished, gently,
and slowly guided by the arm. He moved onto the podium. The audience
clearly adore him as they welcomed him with a tumultuous roar few conductors
are lucky enough to receive at the close of a Prom, let alone before
a second of music has been played. At the close of Bruckner’s Ninth
symphony the cheers and applause threatened to shatter the walls. Within
minutes the entire Albert Hall, packed to the rafters, was on its feet.
He returned three times. Extraordinary scenes that must almost be unique.
He chose to conduct the two greatest unfinished masterpieces
of Nineteenth Century symphonic music – yet the performances were utterly
complete, utterly compelling and of a time and a moment that we could
almost think to be extinct. The pacing was perfect in both works and
the magnificent NDR Symphony Orchestra offered playing that was fabulously
assured in technique. In the concert hall I don’t think I have ever
heard better horn playing in a performance of the Ninth symphony than
we heard here – the very opening bars had all eight horns playing as
a single unified whole with every player breathing simultaneously, giving
precise dynamic weight to the notes. Throughout the entire work their
playing was faultless with even the most exposed writing played to perfection.
Woodwind were equally spellbinding (particularly a lamenting solo oboe)
and the strings (notably astonishing basses and cellos) were silken
in tone and capable of extraordinary purity in the upper register (even
if the first violins at bars 73-4 seemed overwhelmed by the fff
of brass and woodwind). Whilst the Albert Hall’s notorious acoustics
were partly to blame for this I wasn’t quite so sure about the strident
trumpets. Here the sense of balance seemed wrong. Yet, these were small
blemishes in a performance that seemed telescopically drawn, almost
as if Wand was building the bridge from the first movement’s development
through to the coda of the third movement. Its span was undeniably impressive,
at tempos which seemed ideal. Particularly memorable was the Sehr
langsam section of the adagio (fig. M) through to bar 203 (end of
fig. Q). The gravity and weight of the climax, its collapse and the
resurrection of the coda were as complete as in any performance I can
recall.
The Schubert had uncommon weight yet was similarly
imposing. It was utterly memorable – a starter to a concert that will
long be remembered by those who were there. This was great music making.
Marc Bridle
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