]
‘Casals was one of
the great singers: he simply chose to
sing on the cello rather than with his
voice’. So writes Tully Potter in the
accompanying notes to this release.
Time and time again over the course
of this disc’s 77-minute duration, he
is proved right.
Ward Marston gives
a longer than usual explanation of the
choices he was faced with in transferring
these discs, from the use of declicking
on some tracks to the speeds at which
the records should be reproduced. Suffice
it to say that the end results are eminently
musical. True, one has to suffer a fair
amount of surface noise at times, but
the ear does attune and when it does
one can only marvel at Casals’ expressive
palette. This is a palette that includes
what Pitter refers to as ‘expressive
intonation’, an effect that turns up
in the Schumann ‘Abendlied’, given a
lovely, crepuscular performance both
times here. A pity that on the first
occasion especially the accompaniment
recalls pea-soup, if you follow me.
The most special tracks
are those that exude the nonchalance
of greatness. This is nowhere better
demonstrated than in the Mendelssohn
Spring Song, a breath of fresh
air. It is rivalled only, by the excellently
shaded account of ‘Träumerei’,
this latter certainly a highlight of
this disc for this reviewer. There is
the ease of the Master, also, in such
deceptively easy-on-the-ear works as
the Haydn Minuet in C; the very
first track on this CD. Superb articulation
and a massive sense of musicianship
overwhelms the sound quality - one has
to strain to hear the piano in the background.
The limitations of
sound-quality should be mentioned without
implying undue harshness of criticism,
given the dates of these recordings
(1916-20). In the Haydn Concerto, for
instance, I can just make out what I
suspect are flutes. Yet set that against
Casals’ wondrous sense of line ... Similarly,
Casals’ Swan suffers from huge
noise, yet it is hypnotic playing; the
close is pure magic. Of the two Mozart
Larghettos (from the Clarinet Quintet),
it is the second that seems more surface-noise
ridden – more seriously on the second
occasion Casals’ tone seems more nasal.
In repertoire terms,
the Cantilena from Goltermann’s A minor
Concerto (No. 1 of eight!) is interesting
simply because it has fallen out of
the repertoire today yet was clearly
held in regard at the time of recording.
Goltermann was a German cellist who,
on this evidence, produced highly attractive
scores (a list of his works can be found
here here
but be warned the text is in Czech).
The Rubinstein/Popper represents the
salon side of Casals, very Romantic,
with the cellist clearly enjoying himself
– and enjoyment that flies across the
years and into our living rooms. And
really, the Liszt Liebestraum
is brought into this arena. It is just
Casals’ sort of thing. He reaches the
stratosphere around 2’25 in, and yet
is infinitely agile up there. Liszt,
surely, must be smiling somewhere.
Of course when listening
critically there are stylistic considerations
that one must take into account. Does
the Boccherini sound like Boccherini?
No, of course it doesn’t, not for a
millisecond of its four minutes. But
that is not to imply that one cannot
enjoy this for what it is. Handel’s
Largo from Xerxes is similarly
‘of its time’, but how wonderful is
Casals’ shading of the line. The only
miscalculation seems to be (ironically)
the very last track of this disc, the
Bach ‘Air’ from Suite No. 3.
To say the orchestra plods along is
to understate matters, and it almost
sounds as if the accompaniment is scored
for strings and brass band. If Casals
is expressive enough, surely this is
musically no way to end although the
tracks are presented in chronological
order and for this reason it was presumably
unavoidable.
Well worth hearing
for many, many reasons. As part of the
documentation of great cellists; as
part of the documentation of great musicians;
as an example of how repertoire choices
change over the years. Now that last
point offers fruitful food for thought.
Maybe someone would like to play the
Goltermann complete?.
Colin Clarke
see also review
by Jonathan Woolf
Pablo Casals (cello) 
