I remember back in my university days a fellow music 
          student who heard Tchaikovsky’s Fourth Symphony for the first time in 
          his life during his third year of studies. As one who avidly lapped 
          up the standard repertoire from about the age of ten onwards, I have 
          always deeply envied anyone who still had before him the thrill, otherwise 
          reserved for those who turn to classical music later in life, of encountering 
          for the first time one of those standard knock-you-for-six masterpieces 
          I seem to know all too well. I now realise I need not have worried. 
          Fresh discoveries are there when you least expect them. I thought that, 
          between them, Mravinsky, Markevich, Mengelberg, Furtwängler, Karajan 
          and a few others had said all there was to say about Tchaikovsky Five. 
          Listening to this recording has been an overwhelming emotional experience 
          and I seemed to be hearing the work for the first time. 
        
 
        
Not, I hasten to add, because Koussevitzky plays so 
          fast and loose with the score as to make it unrecognisable. Agogic liberties 
          there will always be in Tchaikovsky – in Koussevitzky’s case a tendency 
          to make a rallentando before climaxes and a particularly improvisatory 
          way with the later stages of the third movement, which is also very 
          slow, as was Furtwängler’s (and, as with Furtwängler’s, is 
          completely convincing after the initial shock). But basic tempi are 
          generally steady and the onward flow of the music is never lost. I was 
          immediately impressed by Koussevitzky’s colouring of the string chords 
          underlying the opening clarinet melody and by the way in which the Allegro 
          con anima starts immediately in tempo – so many conductors begin 
          it slowly and lugubriously, reaching their real tempo only with the 
          first climax. Koussevitzky then gives this climax an overwhelming power. 
          In other hands this could be dangerous since the orchestra would have 
          already given its maximum too early on. But Koussevitzky knew the measure 
          of the instrument he had built up over 19 years, he knew it could give 
          more and still more, so every climax caps the last. He has a particular 
          way of building up to climaxes so as to have you almost cowering under 
          your seat, waiting for the blow to fall (this is where he helps himself 
          out with some rallentandos), and then surging inexorably on. 
        
 
        
But what remained in my mind above all at the end the 
          sheer body of the string sound, dark, pliant, brooding, soaring, and 
          capable of an infinite variety of dynamic shaping, always carried out 
          with total unanimity. This can be appreciated through a recording which 
          sounds reasonably well for its age. It must have been shattering to 
          experience such a sound live. 
        
 
        
Robert Matthew-Walker’s excellent notes point out that 
          "for reasons that remain somewhat obscure" Koussevitzky never 
          conducted this work again in Boston during the remaining six years of 
          his life. The greatest artists will always tell us that, however fantastic 
          their performances may seem to us, they fall far short of the ideal 
          they have in their head. Is it possible that Koussevitzky on this occasion 
          came so close to his ideal performance that he preferred to let the 
          work rest thereafter? 
        
 
        
Rachmaninov’s dark colours get a powerfully brooding 
          realisation, guaranteeing hours of illumination to those who have the 
          composer’s own 1929 version with the Philadelphia Orchestra to compare 
          it with. The Liszt is no well-whipped war-horse (it is actually fairly 
          moderate in tempo) but a phantasmagorically penetrating creation of 
          a sound-world which is revealed to be on a level with the best of Berlioz. 
        
 
        
Koussevitzky’s long reign in Boston sometimes led to 
          the suggestion (as also with Ormandy) that he needed his own orchestra 
          to be fully effective. The second CD, mostly made in London, shows this 
          not to be true, but also points to some of the advantages of a longstanding 
          association between conductor and orchestra. Both British orchestras 
          have touches of old-fashioned portamento in the string playing which 
          are absent in Boston, so presumably Koussevitzky would have preferred 
          to weed them out if he could. They are obviously more disturbing in 
          Beethoven than in Sibelius. You also get the impression that the BBC 
          Symphony Orchestra is being driven over the brink to produce a volume 
          of sound which the Boston orchestra could take in its stride, though 
          this in itself contributes to the tension of the performance. In any 
          case this live Sibelius 7 has always been among the great Sibelius records, 
          its sheer electricity as stunning today as it was nearly 70 years ago. 
          Some time back, reviewing the Berglund Helsinki cycle, I described the 
          interpretations of that conductor as "in many ways those most closely 
          in tune with Sibelius’s new-found role as a contemporary composer". 
          I still stand by that and I would ultimately find my home in a more 
          patiently-built interpretation such as Berglund’s, or that of Sir Adrian 
          Boult, now available on BBC Legends. But the fact that a conductor today 
          would be unlikely to attempt an interpretation of this kind only adds 
          to the historic importance of Koussevitzky’s incandescent revelation 
          of what the work meant when it was still virtually new (would we could 
          hear how Beethoven Seven was performed a mere nine years after its composition!). 
          The recording is good for the date. 
        
 
        
Perhaps it would have been more tactful to Harris not 
          to have placed his symphony between Sibelius and Beethoven. It’s a fine 
          work but it inevitably seems a bit homespun after Sibelius 7. The dark 
          power of the Boston strings provide strong advocacy for the piece, and 
          this was an advocacy which Koussevitzky unstintingly placed at the service 
          of many, many of his contemporary composers, both European and American. 
        
 
        
1934 found Koussevitzky in London again to record two 
          Beethoven symphonies: an "Eroica" which achieved a certain 
          notoriety for the fact that the opening chords were played in a tempo 
          unrelated to that of the rest of the movement, and the present Fifth. 
          Those who imagine that Toscanini and Klemperer between them killed off 
          romantic interpretations of the four-note motive which opens this work 
          will be surprised to hear Koussevitzky hammering it home absolutely 
          in tempo. It is a grand, majestic reading (with the repeat), sufficiently 
          moulded to be quite different in effect from the grandeur and majesty 
          of Klemperer. A few slight accelerandos are allowed to creep in, but 
          basically this is as far distant from Furtwängler or Mengelberg 
          as it is from Toscanini. Trust Koussevitzky, the double-bass virtuoso, 
          to find a tempo for the scherzo in which the eruption of the trio is 
          brilliant yet with every note clear. Also, not all that many recordings 
          that have been made since have made it as clear as this one what the 
          timpani are actually doing in the transition to the finale. This last 
          movement (without repeat) is again grand and majestic. It’s a pity that 
          the string portamenti date a performance which, strong as it is, seems 
          a little less white-hot than everything else on these CDs. Like all 
          the recordings here, it sounds as well as you could expect for its date. 
          If Koussevitzky also recorded the symphony in Boston I should very much 
          like to hear it. 
        
 
        
The abiding impression given by this set is of a conductor 
          who always obtained the ultimate degree of emotional intensity from 
          his players. We have seen in recent years the fullest imaginable investigation 
          into the art of Furtwängler, Toscanini, Beecham and many other 
          "historical" conductors. There has not, as far as I am aware, 
          been any similar "Koussevitzky Edition" dedicated to the complete 
          reissue of his many commercial recordings, and radio archive material 
          has similarly been investigated sporadically rather than systematically. 
          Koussevitzky’s contemporary reputation was not less than that of the 
          three conductors named above and this set tells us why. I hope it will 
          lead the way to something more extensive, and also that this "Great 
          Conductors of the Twentieth Century" will, like the "Great 
          Pianists" albums, stretch to second and third volumes in at least 
          some cases. In the meantime, an enthusiastic recommendation for some 
          wonderful music-making. 
        
 
        
        
Christopher Howell