This is the first of the Cala/Leopold Stokowski Society historical
reissues that I have listened to so I was interested to hear it
as both a performance and an historical document. Richard Gates’
liner-notes focus more on the relationship between Stokowski and
this repertoire rather than any analytical investigation of the
works themselves. This seems quite fair to me given that this
disc will be bought because it is Stokowski’s Schubert and Dvořák,
not the music itself. To further underline the fact that Stokowski
is central to the music-making here disc the orchestra is “his
Symphony Orchestra” and the Dvořák
- the earliest recording here dating from December 1947 - was
the first major piece recorded by this ensemble.
So
to the performances themselves. The disc opens with three
excerpts from the Rosamunde Incidental Music Op.26,
recorded in 1952. Stokowski as interventionist is least
apparent in the Overture; from following the score there don’t
appear to be many of the re-touching of dynamics or instrumentation
of which he was so fond and is to be found elsewhere on this
disc. In fact all of the Schubert here shows Stokowski in
sensitive form with his characteristic use of rubato falling
within the bounds of allowing the music to breathe naturally.
There are a couple of places in the slow introduction of the
Overture where I wish the end of a four bar phrase didn’t
signal yet another rallentando. The Allegro Vivace
which accounts for the bulk of the Overture is remarkably
free from mannerisms and to my modern ears all the better
for that. As engineered, the effect is a considerable improvement
over that to come in the Dvořák
with the sound spectrum far more even and the balance allowing
the strings to produce a true pianissimo. However, this really
is no more than an opener for what, for me is the – unexpected
- highlight of the disc. The Entr’acte No.3 in B-flat major
as presented here is in effect a Stokowski transcription.
He interpolates Schubert’s Piano Impromptu No.3 in B flat
into the piece giving it an ABA structure. But more than
that there is the kind of affectionate phrasing immaculately
realised by the players that is Stokowski at his best. It
might not be authentic, it might not really be Schubert but
it is fantastic music-making; full of the kind of personality-led
conducting that is heard all too rarely today. Likewise the
remaining two Schubert excerpts with the Tyrolean Dances
- another Stokowski reworking - in particular being played
with musicality to spare. These later dances were recorded
nearly three years before the other Schubert here and eighteen
months after the Symphony. In sonic terms they lie between
them as well – not as warm or detailed as the remaining Schubert
but a whole lot better than the Dvořák.
I see that the Schubert is transferred from original master
tapes whereas the Dvořák comes from a private collection – presumably a set
of discs. The four Schubert pieces are worth the entry price
of this disc on their own.
Which
brings me to the performance of the Symphony No.9 in E
minor “From the New World” by Dvořák.
It was this that started me thinking about the composer/performer
relationship. The key to this surely lies in whether the performer
sees themselves as messenger - accurately passing on exactly
the notes and their attendant instructions - or as interpreter,
giving voice to something implicit but not necessarily explicit
in the notes alone. In reality all performers lie somewhere
on a line drawn between those two extremes as indeed does
the taste of the music-loving public. Recent years has seen
a shift largely towards the explicit with the rise of critical
editions and authentic performance practice. Ultimately it
is for each listener to decide whether the interpretive additions
to a performance illuminate or distract. The first two times
I listened to this performance I had starkly different reactions
to it mainly because the second time I followed a copy of
the critical edition of the score and it bore in on me how
much Stokowski ignores not adds - as one might have expected.
The first time I listened purely as an overall vision of the
work and as such it works – just about. To sum it up in one
word I would say volatile; barely a phrase goes by without
Stokowski imposing an ebb or flow to it. Not surprisingly
he ignores the exposition repeat in the first movement and
while he observes most of the then traditional rallentandi
into the lyrical second subjects most of this movement
presses on with none of the grace or elegance that so defined
the Schubert. The famous Largo is weighty and
slow. The liner-notes point out that amongst the many stellar
players in the orchestra the cor anglais is played by Mitch
Miller who went on to fame as a producer and presenter of
light and pop music. He plays this solo very beautifully but
with a more pronounced vibrato than many modern players and
a tonal quality that sounds closer at times to a single reed
instrument – unusual but not unattractive. The Scherzo is
the least “altered” of the movements with both the second
subject and the trio allowed to lilt appealingly. The Finale
is more interventionist again. Although marked allegro
con fuoco - effectively fast and fiery - Stokowski imposes
one of his biggest unmarked slowing-ups at only the ninth
bar to prepare for the first subject proper; momentum is lost
almost before it is established.. I hear little of the affection
that so marked out the Schubert here. As a high-octane drive
through a movement it has a certain roller-coaster excitement
but surely it does not serve the music well. The Symphony
as a whole is spared Stokowski’s penchant for textual amendments;
a woodwind chord at the end of the first movement introduction
is sustained for no particular reason. More crassly he adds
two cymbal crashes on the fff climaxes in the finale
- in a Bruckner Seventh kind of moment. Even worse there’s
a totally spurious tam-tam stroke at bar 323 of the same movement
– this time in a Tchaikovsky Pathétique manner. I love
Stokowski’s arrangements but I cannot respect that as a musical
choice. The liner-notes mention that at the time of its original
release Decca’s “Full-Frequency-Range-Recordings” were causing
a massive stir with the quality of the sound they provided.
My guess is that this recording and performance with its steroidal
approach both musically and sonically is a knee-jerk response.
I haven’t yet mentioned in detail the quality of the recording
or transfer of the symphony. It is significantly worse than
the Schubert. Even allowing for its historical status I found
it crude and unappealing. As mentioned above it comes from
a private collection. The main problem - pardon the pun -
is what sounds like a mains hum throughout: loud and at a
not very low frequency. The original engineering is close
and in the main ungrateful. Given the stellar nature of the
line-up the strings in particular sound scrawny particularly
above the stave. Also, the microphone placement is microscopically
close-up. At one point in the slow movement you can hear the
lead second violinist’s pizzicato coming through against the
rest of the orchestra. All of the lower instruments seem to
have been directed to ignore any dynamic less than mf –
you can hear this in the string playing. The attack of the
bow to string is essentially loud; this is not quiet playing
amplified in the mix. So much of the simplicity - in the very
best sense - of Dvořák’s writing
and scoring is simply steam-rollered. This became so apparent
when I followed the performance with a score. As I hope is
clear I really do love and appreciate interpretations where
performers take full responsibility for their choices and
don’t hide behind a slavish adherence to the letter of the
score alone. To my mind this is the musical equivalent of
saying you were just following orders. But with taking responsibility
comes respect for the composer too. To put it very simply,
as presented here I would have to say Stokowski respected
Schubert but not Dvořák. Trying not to obsess over the demerits of the latter
I compared this with several other versions I had to hand.
Three famous, yet very different approaches drew me in instantly.
George Szell with his terrifyingly drilled Cleveland Orchestra
make the finale truly fiery and virtuosic. Whilst he too cannot
resist the occasional unmarked rallentando - although
to a fraction of the degree Stokowski imposes - this is a
dramatic if somewhat unsmiling reading. Then comes the equally
renowned Istvan Kertesz and the LSO – sonically in a different
league without the devilish drive of Szell and for me lacking
the last drop of emotional intensity that makes this such
a great piece. But best of all has to be Karel Ancerl and
his Czech Philharmonic Orchestra. In some ways plainer - his
is the fastest Largo by about a minute – but the only one
to play it in a crochet/¼ note feel as marked in the score
- but the sheer variety of moods across the Symphony’s entire
span comes through most clearly. I adore the incomparably
idiomatic sound of the Czech players which reaches true catharsis
with the various themes hurled against each other in the very
final pages of the piece. This touch makes the lapse into
exhaustion of the final dying-away chord both logical and
profoundly moving – life and death stuff. I simply don’t hear
that from Stokowski and I wished I had.
So
certainly a mixed blessing of a disc. When it’s good it is
very very good indeed. When it’s bad it embodies the worst
of a superstar conductor placing himself above and before
the music. But I would not want to be without these performances
if only to ignite the performer/composer debate all over again.
Stokowski was never one for middle ground mediocrity and whether
a listener finds it insightful or insulting is why we collect
recorded music.
Breathtaking
Schubert, baffling Dvořák.
Nick
Barnard
see also Reviews
by Rob Maynard and Jonathan
Woolf
