This is a quite remarkable 
                performance of Acts II and III from 
                Wagner’s chromatic vortex and as such 
                deserves better remastering. The back 
                of the CD case promises that this is 
                ‘issued from the best possible source’; 
                the ensuing typo in ‘recommanded (sic) 
                to collectors only’ does not inspire 
                confidence, however. Periodic distortion 
                (sometimes huge: try Act III, CD 2 track 
                7) can detract, but the most puzzling 
                aspect of the transfer occurs right 
                at the beginning of this set (i.e. at 
                the beginning of Act II). The music 
                seems to come, rather unsteadily, into 
                focus over the first few bars, with 
                some form of ‘cut through’. My heart 
                sank when I heard it, as I envisioned 
                two hours plus of this. It does get 
                better, however, it’s just that on first 
                listening one doesn’t know when the 
                next distortion-offensive will strike. 
                Unfortunate, too, that the blurry opening 
                to disc 1 stays in the memory. Act I, 
                alas, was not recorded. Whatever the 
                recording’s faults, though, there is 
                much here to fascinate. 
              
 
              
This is a reading characterised 
                by sensitivity and tenderness on all 
                sides. The orchestra’s contribution, 
                thanks to Kempe, is almost chamber music-like, 
                with consistently lightened textures. 
                This rubs off on the singers also; there 
                is a remarkable range of nuance from 
                all the principals. This is not to imply 
                a lack of passion or of atmosphere (for 
                the latter, just listen to the hunting 
                horns in Act II, trying to ignore the 
                presence of intrusive strings, as if 
                from another world, at around 2’23). 
                Kempe sets up a feeling of forward momentum 
                that, while in keeping with the dramatic 
                situation, never under-sells the musical 
                argument itself. 
              
 
              
Helena Braun’s Isolde 
                is a variable assumption. The same singer 
                was Isolde for Knappertsbusch in Bavaria 
                (another part remained the same, that 
                of Paul Kuen as Shepherd), from the 
                same venue, in July 1950 (Orfeo C355943D). 
                Braun seems to gain strength as the 
                Act progresses (initially, there is 
                some barking and some scooping present), 
                so be warned that patience is required. 
                Towards the end of Act II Scene 1, Braun 
                does manages to sound ecstatic, carried 
                along on the wave of Kempe’s dramatic 
                sweep. 
              
 
              
The recording is severely 
                tested again as the ill-fated pair of 
                lovers greet each other in Scene 2. 
                Curious that around here is one of Kempe’s 
                few lapses, as rhythms fail to gather 
                the cumulative force they can in other 
                hands generate. He does makes up for 
                it in his maintenance of momentum as 
                he moves towards the famous ‘O sink 
                hernieder’ section. It is here that 
                Kempe’s talent at highlighting Wagner’s 
                delicacy really pays off - the atmosphere 
                is positively perfumed. 
              
 
              
A pity that Brangäne’s 
                Warning is not too distanced (where 
                was she standing, I wonder?) - yet that 
                is hardly the greatest problem here. 
                At track 4, 1’45 there is what sounds 
                like an edit performed with a blunt 
                butcher’s knife; at, 2’09, the sound 
                suddenly becomes hopelessly muffled. 
                A great shame this, as Ira Malaniuk’s 
                singing has much to offer in intensity 
                (Malaniuk was Magdalene for both Karajan 
                and Knappertsbusch at Bayreuth; also 
                Fricka in Keilberth’s 1952 Bayreuth 
                Ring). It is only at Isolde’s 
                ‘Lausch, Geliebter’ (track 5) that it 
                becomes possible to become immersed 
                in Wagner’s goings-on. The harmonies 
                seem to revolve rather than have any 
                focused direction, Kempe’s orchestra 
                providing a tender web of sound. 
              
 
              
Kurwenal is a clear 
                and confident Hans Hotter, no less. 
                Gottlob Frick as Marke is powerful of 
                voice, yet conveys his hurt in betrayal 
                as he asks, ‘Dies, Tristan, zu mir?’. 
                The presence of real pianissimi 
                ensure the emotional power of this section. 
                A gripping sense of line coupled with 
                the projection of profound sadness laced 
                with an undercurrent of anger is a heady 
                and affecting mix, one projected with 
                consummate mastery by Frick. 
              
 
              
By the very end of 
                Act II, all seems to have clicked into 
                place. Isolde hits her peak of lyricism; 
                Albrecht Peter’s Melot is clear and 
                forceful. Kempe ensures the final chord 
                is as (rightly) dismissive as can be 
                after the sudden action that closes 
                the act. 
              
 
              
Kempe’s mastery is 
                evident in every millisecond of the 
                Act III Prelude. Slower than frequently 
                heard, it is a picture of desolation 
                in sound. The high violins’ control 
                is incredible, and as one becomes immersed, 
                a sense of timelessness sets in. Kempe 
                again ensures delicacy - so much so 
                that here it is almost as if the music 
                could disintegrate at any moment, making 
                the cor anglais solo all the more poignant. 
              
 
              
Paul Kuen makes for 
                a young-sounding Shepherd, providing 
                fullest contrast with Hotter’s unbearably 
                sad (and later authoritative) Kurwenal. 
                It is here that Seider really comes 
                into his own. He sounds like a remarkably 
                reined-in Heldentenor – one can just 
                hear the emotions waiting for their 
                moment to pour out. And so they do, 
                but Seider’s delirium is not unpitched 
                (others have been known to bark their 
                way through this). 
              
 
              
A pity that distortion 
                again threatens enjoyment during track 
                7. Yet it is worth bearing it to hear 
                Hotter’s massive entry and beautiful 
                high register at ‘Mein Herre! Tristan!’. 
                No sooner is one bowled over, though, 
                and another mysterious quirk of transfer 
                intrudes (1’18 before the end of this 
                track - just what is that?). 
              
 
              
Kempe’s pacing as the 
                ship is sighted is exemplary (as is 
                Tristan’s collapse from exhaustion); 
                yet the sound threatens to disappear 
                around track 10, 0’30ff, and distortion 
                once more rears its head. 
              
 
              
Isolde’s entrance is 
                awe-inspiring, expertly prepared by 
                Kempe. Needless to say, Tristan’s death 
                is a moment of the highest sadness, 
                Frick’s ‘Tod den alles’ almost unbearable 
                (he is magnificent here). A shame then 
                that Braun’s tuning in the Verklärung 
                is not all one could wish for, and an 
                even greater pity that there is more 
                distortion at the climactic word, ‘Welt-Atems’ 
                (‘World’s breath’). 
              
 
              
So the box was right 
                - ‘for collectors only’. There is much 
                to be gleaned from this set, that much 
                is true, and much to enjoy. Given that 
                it appears to be out at ‘ultra-super-budget 
                price’ (Crotchet and Amazon both charge 
                £8.99), it is certainly worth a spin. 
              
 
              
Colin Clarke 
                 
              
 
                A quite remarkable performance of Acts 
                II and III from Wagner’s chromatic vortex 
                and as such deserves better remastering. 
                ... see Full Review