You must have experienced the incongruity of a party which was 
                  buzzing but where you just could not get into the spirit of 
                  things. Well, Sir Reginald Goodall’s legendary Ring cycle, famous 
                  for stately tempi plus attention to beauteous orchestral detail, 
                  has many admirers, including Sir Mark Elder. Not me. Too often 
                  I felt Goodall left the handbrake on, smothering the Ring’s 
                  natural flow under his affected concept.
                   
                  Both conductors raise questions of why listeners may associate 
                  the magisterial and monumental with slower-than-the-norm tempi 
                  and the extent to which attention to internal orchestral textures, 
                  singing lines and transparency can buoy speeds which would otherwise 
                  sag. Also we are challenged as to how a performance may establish 
                  and maintain its own dramatic time-frame, confounding an audience’s 
                  preconceptions.
                   
                  Elder’s 2010 live Götterdämmerung (reviewed here 
                  and here) 
                  and this new Die Walkure are surely under Goodall’s 
                  spell not least as both feature deliberate tempi, although both 
                  sets are far more flexible than Goodall’s recordings. Elder’s 
                  Act I Prelude at once establishes a beautifully shaped storm 
                  with transparent orchestral colours, founded on clear lower 
                  strings. Dark energies emerge through rhythmic surge within 
                  the lower strings and the capping timpani open with cushioned 
                  attack rather than a thunderous crack. This is a micro-span 
                  within a 65-plus minute overarching line that structurally anchors 
                  all of Act I. Yet measured control dominates Elder’s storm whereas 
                  Karajan seizes the listener by the throat and flings her or 
                  him into a vortex, somewhat undermined by too distant timpani. 
                  Similarly Elder’s Act II prelude and Act III Ride are oddly 
                  civilised, barely airborne in either trampling tempi or spirit. 
                  Furtwängler (1953) evokes both energy and craziness.
                   
                  Certainly Elder and the Hallé can raise temperatures, such as 
                  in the seamless upsweep towards Siegmund claiming Notung and 
                  the magisterial power of the orchestral arch as Wotan kisses 
                  away Brünnhilde’s godhead. Elder’s Magic Fire Music 
                  is the set’s highlight, beautifully steered with real command 
                  and dramatic immersion. Just occasionally I wanted to seize 
                  my CD player and shout “just get on with it!”. The Act II Invocation 
                  of Death leading towards Wotan despatching Hunding is too 
                  weighty and much of Wotan’s conversations with Brünnhilde in 
                  Act III are too self-consciously profound, as if trapped within 
                  a grand Edwardian oratorio. The hard-to-find Dohnanyi/Cleveland 
                  (Decca) has greater dramatic bite here and the quality of the 
                  Clevelanders’ playing shows that those vital internal details 
                  need not lose clarity within swifter tempi.
                   
                  Elder’s singers delivered a great night out in those Manchester 
                  concert performances, but are they super-special for posterity? 
                  Gundula Janowitz sang prettily as Sieglinde for Karajan (DG) 
                  but with little register of Wagner’s development of light, Spring 
                  and love. At the other end of the scale Leonie Rysanek’s Sieglinde 
                  in Böhm’s Ring (Decca) evokes not only ardour but also 
                  a frank sexuality, clearly attracted to her new-found twin, 
                  culminating in a primal, near orgasmic scream, as Siegmund wins 
                  Nothung. Stig Andersen and Yvonne Howard’s incestuous siblings 
                  lie somewhere between these extremes but with unevenness under 
                  pressure, particularly from Anderson. They don ‘t come close 
                  to eclipsing from memory the distinguished vocal chops of John 
                  Vickers, Rysanek or, Flagstad. Where is the chemistry of Melchior 
                  and Lehmann both in the studio (EMI) or live (Myto) as voices 
                  open out in abandon and each revels in the other’s singing? 
                  Try also the celebrated pairing of Peter Seiffert and Petra 
                  Maria Schnitzer in a DVD performance (reviewed 
                  here) you’ll want to enjoy time and time again.
                   
                  The opening of Act II brings further disappointment with Susan 
                  Bullock’s titular Brünnhilde. For me this is particularly sad 
                  as I heard Bullock sing Isolde in Nottingham 2003 and was floored 
                  by the sheer power of her voice and that ‘pinging’ quality which 
                  allowed her voice to laser through the orchestra and hit the 
                  back of the auditorium. By 2011 Bullock retains that fresh tone, 
                  and her diction is absolutely clear, but there is a worrying 
                  vibrato under pressure as the support underpinning her voice 
                  evaporates. Bullock’s beautiful inward singing at the start 
                  of her final confrontation with Wotan shows what might have 
                  been if her Brünnhilde had been captured ten years earlier. 
                  Egils Silins’s Wotan is authoritative and well-acted and I enjoyed 
                  the blazing, metallic tones of Susan Bickley’s Fricka, but would 
                  you invest in this set for them?
                   
                  Certainly future generations need a record of the Hallé Orchestra’s 
                  splendid playing, resurgent under Elder’s baton. Imagine the 
                  section rehearsals to get this attention to inner balances and 
                  colours! I wondered if the timpani’s soft-focused attacks, and 
                  much else, was influenced by the Berlin Philharmonic/Karajan 
                  partnership and their emphasis on gorgeous textures in Wagner? 
                  All the Hallé musicians are rightly named in the accompanying 
                  booklet as they are the heroes of this Die Walküre.
                   
                  Steve Portnoi’s sound engineering is certainly in the front 
                  rank, boasting bloom, a wide sound-stage and voices forward 
                  but beautifully integrated so all Wagner’s orchestral wonders 
                  ring out. It’s all very natural. Someone should send Portnoi 
                  to the BBC to sort out the overtly multi-miked horrors foisted 
                  on Radio 3 opera listeners these days.
                   
                  Barenboim and Karajan remain the safest bet for a modern stereo 
                  Die Walküre. Zubin Mehta’s Valencia cast mostly trump 
                  their Manchester counterparts, although for all of Jennifer 
                  Wilson’s warmth and power I’ve watched better acting on a Schwarzenegger 
                  movie. She is best heard, not seen. Between his 1953 Rome and 
                  1954 studio recordings, Furtwängler is unassailed for immersion 
                  into Wagner’s drama. Only Clemens Krauss comes close. Janowski’s 
                  second attempt at recording The Ring is pencilled in 
                  for 2013 and the cast, including Petra Lang as Brünnhilde, looks 
                  intriguing. Perhaps you should be putting your occasional pennies 
                  into a glass jar for this instead?
                   
                  David Harbin
                see also reviews by 
                  Brian Wilson (RECORDING 
                  OF THE MONTH May) and Gavin 
                  Dixon