With ominously rumbling
double-basses in the beginning of Elektra’s
Soliloquy and then a reproduction of
the Chicago Symphony’s brass section
that make the wineglasses in the cupboard
in the adjacent room chink from exaltation,
I had to reach for the jewel case to
check the recording date. Look at the
heading: nineteen hundred and fifty
six! Half a century ago! It’s unbelievable!
I could have sworn that this was a brand-new
state-of-the-art effort but it is in
fact a very early two-channel analogue
stereo recording, enhanced through some
technical wizardry and served through
my SACD system, which actually is quite
modest, adapted to my relatively small
listening room. Not only does it give
this not very restrained music a punch
that is felt physically in the pit of
the stomach but it also reveals the
beautiful and homogenous Chicago string
sound in all its glory and all the details
of Strauss’s marvellously colourful
score. This is a sonic feast – as well
as a musical one, for the prime function
of the sound reproduction should of
course be to present the music in as
favourable a light as possible. With
Fritz Reiner at the helm this music
could hardly be in safer hands; few
conductors of his or any time knew Richard
Strauss’s music better than he did.
In 1914 when he was 25 he was appointed
principal conductor of the Royal Opera
in Dresden – Strauss’s preferred stage,
nine of his sixteen operas were premiered
there. During the seven years Reiner
worked in Dresden he cooperated with
Strauss on productions of several of
the early operas, and much later, when
he made his Metropolitan debut in 1949,
his first opera was Salome. And
everything about this recording seems
absolutely right: the taut control,
the sexual allure of Salome’s Dance
of the Seven Veils - certainly one
of the finest versions of this oft-recorded
piece - and the surprising warmth of
much of the music.
The only regrettable
thing is that he didn’t record the complete
operas. If he had they would have been
serious contenders to Solti’s supreme
recordings from the 1960s with the late
lamented Birgit Nilsson - I am writing
this only a couple of days after the
message of her passing away reached
the world. Even on vocal grounds these
could have challenged the unsurpassable
Nilsson – not necessarily being better
but as a valid alternative. It is true
that Inge Borkh recorded Elektra
in the early ’sixties with Karl Böhm,
but by then she wasn’t quite as secure
and intense as here. She started as
an actress and does indeed live her
parts here with great expressiveness.
However an actress with a singing voice
isn’t enough for these parts - they
need a tremendous voice, and that’s
what they get. It is powerful, untiring
and rings out magnificently in the climaxes,
well, most of Elektra’s soliloquy is
a climax, but there are also moments
of great tenderness, which she handles
with great warmth. In the Recognition
Scene, from ca. 13:00 we hear one of
the finest "love-affairs with the
female voice" that Strauss ever
wrote. The sensuous orchestral tissue
is chamber music-like and Reiner unfolds
these pages with the benefit of wonderfully
transparent sound. Inge Borkh’s soprano
blends superbly with the orchestra and
soars just as beautifully as anywhere
in Der Rosenkavalier.
The final scene from
Salome presents more singing
of great intensity and great restraint.
This is another great performance. Oh
what a riveting moment when she lets
loose in the final pages before that
monstrous chord at 16:16, followed by
the soldiers crushing Salome between
their shields!
She is partnered in
the Elektra excerpts by veteran
baritone Paul Schöffler as Orestes,
still steady of voice, warm and expressive,
and Frances Yeend, a soprano who is
fairly little known, at least as a recording
artist. I know her from some live recorded
opera duets with Mario Lanza and as
the soprano soloist in Bruno Walter’s
recording of Bruckner’s Te Deum. She
is an excellent Chrysothemis, silvery
in timbre. It’s a pity she wasn’t more
in demand in the recording studios.
This is a disc that
should be in every opera collection,
irrespective of how many other versions
are already there. In this new sonic
garb it is even more irresistible than
before.
It comes with a reproduction
of the original LP sleeve on the front
of the booklet and an interesting essay
on the history of these two operas by
Francis Robinson, assistant manager
of the Metropolitan Opera back in 1956.
I would have been even happier if the
sung texts had been there, but I couldn’t
find them. That, however, is the only
disappointment about this issue, and
my advice is: Don’t miss this one!
Göran Forsling