There are three commercial 
                recordings of Furtwängler’s C minor; 
                an early electric Polydor from 1926, 
                this one which dates from 1937 and the 
                post-War Vienna recording of 1954, the 
                year of his death. In all however this 
                trio has been supplemented by eight 
                live broadcast performances. We can 
                now follow him from that 1926 set, through 
                this, unquestionably the best of the 
                commercials, to the last recording via 
                those supplementary broadcasts of 1943, 
                1947 (two), 1950 (two), 1952 and again 
                in 1954 (two more, to join the Vienna 
                LP made at the beginning of the year). 
              
 
              
This famous set joins 
                the 1938 Tchaikovsky Pathétique 
                as one of Furtwängler’s great pre-War 
                symphonic statements. It’s such a famous 
                recording that little new needs be added, 
                other than that the tempo elasticities 
                and range of extreme dynamics are far 
                more measured and incisive than the 
                1926 Polydor and that the relatively 
                slow and granitic impulses are entirely 
                convincing on their own terms. One should 
                listen for the wind soloists in the 
                slow movement – the phrasing is truly 
                "grazioso" – and the finely 
                argued fugal entry points in the third 
                movement, as well as the sense of spacious 
                drive cultivated in the finale. This 
                transfer is very much to be preferred 
                to the (in any case no longer available) 
                Novello CD, which was constricted aurally. 
                This one has retained a relatively high 
                level of surface noise and shellac crackle 
                but sounds open in the treble. 
              
 
              
Coupled with it is 
                the Adagio solemne, all that 
                was recorded, from Furtwängler’s 
                own Symphonic Concerto. He’s joined 
                by Edwin Fischer, one of his favoured 
                pianists, and with whom he broadcast 
                (fortunately taped) that monumental 
                wartime Brahms Second Piano Concerto. 
                His own work is aurally a direct descendant 
                of the same composer’s D minor concerto 
                and is conveyed with utter concentration. 
                Furtwängler never recorded Parsifal 
                and all that remains are tantalising 
                moments such as these – the Prelude 
                to Act I and the Good Friday music from 
                Act III (a live broadcast of the latter 
                has survived). These are nobly conceived 
                readings and vividly recorded. And the 
                disc as a whole is equally successful 
                – though I can imagine a cut in surface 
                noise without loss of higher frequencies. 
              
 
              
Jonathan Woolf