Otto Klemperer in Mozart

When it comes to the great German orchestral classics — Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Brahms, Wagner, Bruckner — I have a distinct preference for performances conducted by the great European conductors of the past: Wilhem Furtwängler, Günter Wand, Carl Schuricht, Eugen Jochum, Hans Knappertsbusch, Karl Böhm, and Otto Klemperer. They always appear to embrace a long classical tradition of performing the music, something that escaped the Italians such as Toscanini, Cantelli, Chailly or their American-based furioso imitators.

Otto Klemperer (born 1885 Breslau, Germany. Died 1973 Zürich, Switzerland) was one of the old school German conductors of the first half of the past century. In Bach and Mozart he was somewhat different from his German confrères in preferring smaller forces; he refused to record Bach's Mass in B Minor for Walter Legge, since Legge wanted him to use the full Philharmonia Choir. Klemperer recorded the Mass after Legge's departure, but with a small choir of 40 voices. The 1967 recording of the B Minor Mass by Klemperer is still my favourite. Klemperer in Mozart had no truck with “period practice” or “original instruments” (Gott sei Dank) and in this he was typical of his generation. Listening to the darker hues of the Prague Symphony (recorded March 1962) one wonders whether anyone ever conducted this more effectively than Otto; and the refurbished sound is really top class.

In the period 1956-62, Klemperer recorded most of Mozart with the Philharmonia. I cherish these recordings that show Klemperer's sense of texture, structure, and rhythm, and his insistence on a forward wind band really pays dividends in Mozart. In 2012 EMI (as it then was) began to re-master some of its enormous back-catalogue classics with a specialist team as part of a Super Audio CD project of rehabilitating the classics of the EMI repertoire. The 60 year old orchestral recorded sound comes over as excellent and a fine tribute to the late Walter Legge and Douglas Larter. Alas, the only two albums I have of these SACD re-masterings are Mozart's last six symphonies (with Klemperer) and Bruckner's 8^th and 9^th Symphonies with the Vienna Philharmonic under Carl Schuricht (1961, and 1963).

Soon after these remarkable SACD re-incarnations were released, EMI was sold to the American Warner company, where careful investment in back repertoire was not on the board. For the back repertoire acquired from EMI, Warner seems to have had the philosophy of “pile 'em high and sell 'em cheap” (ROI, and all that), whilst fiercely protecting its “intellectual property” against all comers such as Pristine Audio who might want to re-furbish the sounds, recordings and artists from decades before; real dog in the manger stuff. So we were offered giant Klemperer / Boult / Beecham etc. boxes from Warner with no attempt at re-masterering or re-furbishing the sound. I am eternally grateful that my two Klemperer and Schuricht albums survived the sale to the Americans.

Wilhelm Backhaus

Re-shelving a CD of music by Beethoven, I noticed its shelf neighbour: a double CD of Wilhelm Backhaus playing Beethoven piano sonatas (and the third piano concerto). A happy find; I had completely forgotten this CD of recordings 1950-51.

I am not a big fan of Beethoven's piano sonatas, but I am a big fan of Backhaus. Wilhelm Backhaus (1884-1969) was already famous at the beginning of the 20^th century, and he lived and played until a ripe old age. Transfers of his piano-roll recordings are still around. His playing is no-nonsense German classical (a good antidote to pianists such as Alfred Brendel). In recording at least, he confined himself pretty much to the German classics of Mozart, Beethoven and Brahms, seldom venturing outside this field. He is rarely now included among lists of great pianists of the past, though so much the worse for lists that too often reflect commercial fame rather than genuine talent and solid values. Unlike his contemporaries, Artur Schnabel and Edwin Fischer, Backhaus was a formidable virtuoso at the keyboard. His pianism reveals a lovely touch, and I enjoyed the quality and variety of sound he gets from his pianos (viz the start of the Opus 26 piano sonata's andante con variazioni.) Simple, and lovely!

More Sauret from Nazrin Rashidova

As a refugee from the current horror of British politics, I seized with glee a new CD where the immensely talented Azeri violinist, Nazrin Rashidova, plays the third volume of Emile Sauret's Opus 64 études-caprices. As I have remarked before (when commenting on the first two volumes) Sauret's works for solo violin demand first-rate virtuosity, but not showmanship virtuosity as required by many of the solo violin works of Paganini or Ernst. Not many circus tricks with Sauret. Rashidova is probably the ideal interpreter of these genial études-caprices.

We live in a golden age for those who like serious music. In Britain and America more and more concert halls seem to be going over to entertainment / showbiz music, rather than to the age-old great music of previous generations. Since in my long life I have only briefly lived in or near large cities, I have almost always been dependent on recorded or broadcast music. When I grew up in the 1940s, 50s and 60s, hour-long recordings of solo violin works by Sauret were completely inconceivable, and unobtainable. In the current era, thanks mainly to the plethora of small recording companies, so much music outside the classical A Group is now at one's fingertips. As usual, we have the admirable Naxos company to thank for Rashidova's recordings of Sauret. Excellent recording quality, to boot. Strongly recommended, especially for lovers of fine violin playing and lovely violin music.

Supraphon. And the Pavel Haas Quartet

Listening to Bedrich Smetana's two string quartets as recorded in 2014 by the Pavel Haas Quartet, I marvelled at Supraphon's recording. A perfect balance between the four instruments. A perfect perspective for the sound -- not too distant, not too close. A perfect balance between pianissimo and fortissimo. An avoidance of the high violin “glare” that so disfigures so many digital recordings.

All this, of course, subject to my playback equipment, which is not state-of-the-art, but nor is it bargain basement. I know nothing about sound recording of music, except that in the 1950s and 60s EMI with Walter Legge and Douglas Larte did great things, as did DGG in the 1960s and 70s; and Supraphon for the past couple of decades. Recording “classical” music is intrinsically different from recording popular or entertainment music, and one really cannot use the same teams for both. Happily for us, Supraphon appears to have recording technicians who understand orchestral and chamber music. I wish the company would record more of the superb Pavel Haas Quartet; the current market selection is a bit limited.

Leos Janacek

I took down a box of “The Best of Czech Classics”: eight Czech string quartets played by three different Czech string quartets. Two quartets by Janacek, two by Smetana, one by Novak, and three by Dvorak. Needless to say, the quartets that spoke to me best were the two by Leos Janacek. I have been a Janaceck fan ever since the 1950s, when I acquired a 10” CD of the Diary of a Young Man who Disappeared (sung in German) quickly followed by the Glagolitic Mass, and the Sinfonietta. I never ventured into Janacek's many operas, but I greatly enjoy his sonata for violin and piano. There is something about Janaceck's laconic, fragmented and emotional music that greatly appeals to me, and always has. His is a very individual voice. Never been a Dvorak fan, however.

As a footnote: Janacek was not technically Czech, since he was born in Moravia. Just as Ioseb Besarionis dze Jughashvili (aka Joseph Stalin) and Lavrentiy Pavlovich Beria were not really Russians, but Georgians, and Nikita Sergeyevich Khrushchev and Leonid Ilyich Brezhnev were not really Russians, but Ukrainians. In that part of Europe, your current nationality often depended on the month, and the year. Probably still does.

Beethoven's Diabelli Variations: Artur Schnabel

Back to Beethoven's Diabelli, and this time with Artur Schnabel (recorded 1937). The restoration on Naxos (Mark Obert-Thorn) is excellent, but I needed to tame the bass. Compared with Levit (yesterday) one notices straight away how Schnabel differentiates each of the 33 variations, and how he obviously loves the music. Coming from a different time, many of the variations are played more slowly than is now customary. So much the better.

Despite its age, this is now going to be my first choice when I want to listen to the Diabelli played by a master who knows and loves the music. Three stars.

Beethoven's Diabelli Variations. Igor Levit

My love of the music of Ludwig van Beethoven has waned over the past decades. I now find much of his music somewhat bombastic, and a forced listening to his fifth piano concerto recently confirmed my loss of interest. There are, however, still exceptions: the string quartets, the sonatas for violin and piano, the fourth piano concerto, the third, sixth and seventh symphonies – and the 33 Variations on a Theme of Diabelli. I grew up with this work in my teens (a 12 inch LP played by Wilhelm Backhaus). It's a work that demands a pianist at the service of the music, and is one that extrovert pianists such as Lang Lang or Glenn Gould should avoid. The Diabelli variations comprise a complete world within one work, and do not require the added magic / follies of interventionist pianists.

I have nine recordings of the Diabelli on my shelves — including the ever-faithful Backhaus recording from 1955 — but today I chose the recording by Igor Levit, very much a non-extrovert pianist and musician, although I could equally have chosen the 1937 recording by Artur Schnabel, another non-interventionist. Levit is hyper-efficient and dispatches the 33 variations as ordered. But, unlike Backhaus or Schnabel (or probably others) you do not feel he has this work in his bones, and that he does not have decades of playing it, and revelling in his favourite variations. I speak this as a lover of Levit's pianism but, for the Diabelli, you need super pianism. Plus. Love.

Schubert and Bach. From the Panocha Quartet, and Renaud Capuçon and David Fray

It was a happy choice when I decided to listen to a couple of Schubert's string quartets and my hand alighted on a 1988 Supraphon recording of the Panocha Quartet playing D 804 and the youthful D 87. Classic old-world playing reminding one very clearly that this is chamber music, with four friends playing in a large room or small hall. It also reminded me how extraordinary it is that one small country in central Europe could produce so many first class musicians – particularly string players and string quartets. It sometimes seems that at least half of the world's A class string quartets have been either Czech, or Hungarian. The Czechs are also lucky in having the faithful Supraphon company there for decade after decade, supporting Czech music and Czech players.

Feeling in a chamber music mood, my hand then alighted on a recent recording of four Bach sonatas for keyboard and violin. The soloists were Renaud Capuçon and David Fray; I liked this CD very much the first time round, and enjoy it more and more on re-hearing. Herr Bach presumably wrote the virtuoso keyboard part to show off his playing, and the keyboard does dominate these works, with the violin often just playing accompanying chords or, in one case, being completely silent for one whole movement (BWV 1019). The character of these sonatas comes over well in this recording, with Herr Bach (alias David Fray) dominating the show and Herr Vogel of the Court orchestra (alias Renaud Capuçon) together fully capturing the spirit of these four sonatas. I hope and trust the same players will one day give us the two remaining sonatas in this set of six.

Music and Politics

During my lifetime, I have listened to many, many conductors, violinists, singers and pianists. I have always judged them, I hope, on their prowess as conductors, violinists, singers, or pianists. In my early teens, in my school library during the 1950s, I read a book on music by someone called “Bacharach”. Even at an early age I was scandalised that he denigrated Wilhelm Furtwängler -- because he had stayed and worked in Nazi Germany -- and eulogised Arturo Toscanini who had left Italy and found lucrative employment in America (from which he never returned except for visits, despite the fall of fascist Italy in 1944). History has decided the respective merits of Furtwängler and Toscanini. What did Mr Bacharach's evaluation have to do with the respective conducting merits of the German and the Italian?

Music is an art form -- along with painting and ballet -- that transcends frontiers of language, nationality, culture, politics, race and religion. I therefore still -- after over 60 years -- become irate when composers, musicians or artists are pilloried because of their race, religion, politics, or nationality. It still goes on, 60 years later viz the “sage” Norman Lebrecht lambasting the highly talented Russian conductor Valery Gergiev as “Putin's henchman”. Herr Lebrecht may not like Gergiev's conducting (but, usually, I do). But what do Gergiev's politics have to do with his conducting of Tchaikovsky's Pathétique?

César Franck, and Arabella Steinbacher

César Franck's Sonata in A major for violin was written in 1886 as a birthday present for Eugène Ysaÿe. It is a very popular work with violinists and audiences, and genial in nature (as befits a birthday present). Although written during the period when Wagner was all the rage in the musical world, the sonata was written by a Franco-Belgian for a Franco-Belgian, and given its première in Paris in 1886. This should provide a clue as to its character and the way it should be played; the Franco-Belgian school was renowned for elegance rather than brutal power.

I have on my shelves 59 different recordings of the work, starting from 1923 where Cortot and Thibaud give probably the best recording ever of the work, albeit in pre-electric sound. The pair re-recorded the work in 1929; inevitably in far better sound, though the performance lacks a little of the freshness of the original version. Subsequently the sonata became a favourite of Jascha Heifetz, and of Leonid Kogan; the most recent recording I possess is an excellent one by Alina Ibragimova, with Cédric Tiberghien.

In my younger years, I used to play the sonata on both violin, and viola – the work is not technically difficult, for the violinist. Pretty well every violinist one can think of has recorded it over the years, with the many successful performances coming from violinists from the Franco-Belgian school; it does not take too well to the Russian tank style of violin playing. Yesterday I picked from my shelves a 2012 recording by Arabella Steinbacher, with Robert Kulek. Ms Steinbacher is an elegant player, with a lovely sound and an exemplary technique. She does not often feature in any list of the top 10 violinists around today but, as I have remarked frequently, fame is no guarantee of quality, and vice versa. Fame is often more a tribute to a pushy promotion manager. Arabella records for Pentatone and for Orfeo and her recordings are usually a sure choice if you are looking for something beautifully played and recorded. I basked in her playing of the Franck sonata.

Vilde Frang, Ning Feng, and Recording Engineers

I listened off-air to two violin concertos played by the younger generation of violinists: Ning Feng played the Sibelius (with the BBC Philharmonic conducted by Simone Young) and Vilde Frang played the Elgar, with the San Francisco symphony orchestra conducted by Krzysztof Urbanski. Both violinists gave totally admirable performances, with Frang getting a special mention for maintaining the tempos and not lingering in what is admittedly a somewhat over-long concerto (50 minutes). These performances by both young violinists are up there with the best.

What was not up with the best were the performances by the respective British and American recording engineers, particularly sad in the case of the BBC that used to have a great deal of expertise in this area. This new generation of Anglo-American engineers has been brought up on the terminology of popular or entertainment music, where the “star” is spotlit, whilst the “backing group” is relegated to the background. Adjust your volume to listen comfortably to Feng or Frang, and the orchestras recede to Studio B somewhere nearby. Adjust your volume to listen to the orchestras, and the violinists will knock you out of your socks. I find increasingly that to get a realistic balance, one needs to look to recording engineers in Germany, Holland or Scandiavia, where the tradition of Tonmeister appears to live on, and where recording engineers have actually experienced going to symphony concerts and listening to concertos where the soloist emerges from the orchestral sound, rather than dominates it. If anything, the BBC engineers here are worse, since they continually tweak the sound and balance during the performance, so occasionally you get a giant clarinet and a normal violin, then an enormous violin and a distant orchestral string section.

By coincidence, I followed this up with listening to the ever-talented Arabella Steinbacher playing Shostakovich's second violin concerto, where Shostakovich, Steinbacher, Nelsons (the conductor) and Orfeo (the Munich-based recording company) all illustrate just how to record a solo violin well integrated with the sound of a symphony orchestra. There: it can be done.

In Praise of Dmitri Dmitriyevich Shostakovich

Growing up during the 1940s and 50s in a musical family, music has always been a special love for me. Right from the start, however, I was never greatly enamoured of “showbiz” music: music that was written to appeal to the People, the Grand Duke, the Emperor, the People's Committee for Correct Music, or whatever. Over the decades my interest in symphonies and operas has waned, whilst my love of chamber music has grown. I love many piano sonatas, many sonatas for violin and piano, many trios. And many string quartets.

String quartets are a special area of affection. Into this almost-ideal medium, many composers have poured out their real feelings for music, away from “showbiz” aspects. Thus I really enjoy, more and more, the string quartets of Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert ... and Dmitri Shostakovich.

Shostakovich did not inhabit an ideal environment for a composer of classical music. His chamber music -- and above all his fifteen string quartets -- pours out the depressive-manic reflection of his character, his life, and his environment. Jolly themes become more and more jolly, until they morph into the fixed grimace of a clown. Happy Dmitri plunges from exuberance to deepest gloom within a few bars. It is all thoroughly Russian, and I have a special place in my heart and my emotions for the music of Shostakovich. For me, Russian music is at its most “authentic” (to use a current fashion-phrase) when played by Russians, so I am greatly enjoying Shostakovich's 4^th, 6^th and 8^th string quartets played by the St Petersburg String Quartet, and recorded in St Petersburg in 1999. This is music that connects directly with me, in a way that the string quartets of contemporary composers such as Benjamin Britten or Béla Bartok never can, however admirable they may be on paper.

Shostakovich wrote 15 string quartets (and 15 symphonies). I cannot claim to know the quartets and symphonies intimately, since I came to them relatively late in life. However, like the two violin concertos (that I do know well) and the sonatas for, respectively, violin, viola and cello, I sense that Shostakovich 1-10 is somehow more engaged and passionate, than Shostakovich 11-15. Late Shostakovich is even bleaker than early Shostakovich. The music is often sotto voce, with the occasional anguished howl of rage, or despair. Many of the works end pianissimo, eschewing the traditional grand ending leading to thunderous applause. The long held, pianissimo ending of the third quartet (opus 73, in F major) seems to go on for hours before finally dying. I love it, I am a fully paid-up member of the Shostakovich fan club.

The Music World circa 2019

In the early 1950s, my family in the south of England was visited by two Aunts from The North (my father had seven sisters, and five brothers). The aunts were happy to hear that their young nephew liked music, as did they. They asked me to play something I liked, and I put on my current amour -- Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau singing Schubert songs. They listened intently and then, at the end, one of them said: “Eh, he sings very well ... for a foreigner”.

On my return from a couple of weeks in Vietnam a few days ago, I listened to Tianwa Yang playing Brahms. On a whim, I followed this up with Ning Feng playing Bach. And, this evening, it was Xiayin Wang playing Rachmaninov. I wonder what my Aunts from The North would have made of all of that. Before listening to Xiayin Wang, I consumed with pleasure my master dish: a Thai soup Tom Yum, with assorted fish. In 2019, we live in a different world (even in Brexit Britain).

Vive Tianwa Yang

150 years ago, probably no one would have heard, or heard of, a violinist such as Tianwa Yang. In those days, violinists, singers and pianists found fame (if any) only in their local areas. 100 years ago, not much would have changed, even after the advent of radio broadcasting and recording; slots were limited to established musicians, and recording companies were few in number given the overheads in recording, promoting, manufacturing and distribution.

Move on the the present day, however, and we welcome a veritable cornucopia of superb young violinists, singers, cellists and pianists, with specialist recording companies vying with YouTube and network streaming. For violinists, Naxos has promoted a realm of talent for many of the past decades, including Ms Yang whose current recording of the Brahms violin concerto is the latest addition to her long list of Naxos recordings. I liked this performance a lot. Her musicality shines throughout the work, even in the (Joachim) cadenza. Ms Yang is no barnstormer of a violinist; even in her early recording of the 24 Paganini Capricci at the age of 13, she revealed herself to be a thoughtful and musical player, less interested in strutting the stage than in getting to the heart of the music. I have 91 recordings of Brahms' Op 77, from 1927 (Kreisler) to 2017 (Yang). Yang is recognisably feminine in her performance, and I like it.

Fame is mainly based on age, and on establishing a recognised “brand”. This brand recognition is tough on new entrants who may well be infinitely superior to established brands. To my mind, Tianwa Yang plays the Brahms concerto much better than “brands” such as Pinchas Zukerman, Isaac Stern, Vadim Gluzman ... or a host of others amongst my 91 other candidates for a place on the podium. And the Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin under Antoni Wit plays the orchestral parts like ... a German orchestra playing Johannes Brahms. Tianwa Yang takes a place on the podium for recordings of the Brahms violin concerto. Also on the new CD is a performance of Brahms' double concerto for violin and cello, where the young Gabriel Schwabe complements the young Tianwa Yang affectionately. A three-star addition to my bulging collection of really worthwhile recordings.

Renaud Capuçon and David Fray play Bach

In my younger years, I used to play the six Bach sonatas for violin and keyboard. They are fine works, with some highly interesting movements, and illustrate that, even early on in 1717, Bach was head and shoulders above his Italian contemporaries. I have acquired a new CD on which Renaud Capuçon and David Fray tackle four of these sonatas, where both violin and keyboard have equal prominence.

The CD is fine. David Fray plays the keyboard part on a piano, thank heavens, rather than on a jangling harpsichord that would have been the best Bach could come up with back in 1717. I am not a lover of the sound of harpsichords: “two skeletons copulating on a tin roof” as Thomas Beecham termed it many years ago. Renaud Capuçon, an expert chamber music player, projects the violin part superbly. He does not dabble in the current fad for “pseuo-baroque” playing, but neither does he try to make Bach's violin writing sound like César Franck. Vibrato is used, but judiciously. A CD to keep at hand and to enjoy Bach in seventeen movements. On re-listenings, I admire the CD more and more: for Bach's music, for Capuçon's violin playing, and for Fray's pianism. There is a lightness of touch and a commendable willingness to dance to Bach's dance rhythms that I find wholly admirable. This, I would venture to suggest, is how these works should be played in our current world.

From the Archives: Charles Gounod, and Artur Schnabel

The string quartets of Charles Gounod are pretty un-famous. I discovered three of them in my dusty archives, played by the Danel Quartet; I have no idea where the CD came from. This is attractive, easy-listening music, with no Sturm und Drang. Some of the movements are extremely charming – the allegretto of the A major quartet, for example.

Also from my archives, my mind jogged by a friend's reference to Artur Schnabel, I exhumed my collection of Schnabel recordings, including an 8-CD box of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert, Schnabel's principal composers. I re-discovered one of my favourite pianists; much like Clara Haskil, or Maria Pires, Schnabel puts the music first and eschews any showing off. His Bach playing is sheer delight, with good tempi and excellent part playing. Some in the past cast doubts on his virtuosity, but listening to Schnabel, recorded mainly in the 1930s, there are no signs of weakness. And that wonderful sense of subtle rubato! When all the flashier players have come and gone, Schnabel goes on for ever. There was more musicality in Schnabel than in ten Vladimir Horowitzs.

Petrenko's Magnificent Enigma

Edward Elgar's Enigma Variations is one of very few English works post-17^th century to have achieved international acceptance. It's a lovely piece of music, fresh, varied, and affectionate. I have eleven different recordings, including excellent ones by Barbirolli and Monteux. However, pride of place must go to a new recording where Vasily Petrenko conducts a Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra that sounds right at the top of its game in this music that must be so familiar to most of the players. Petrenko's pacing is superb, and he manages to persuade the Liverpool strings to play with a depth and glow that is almost Russian. I particularly admired the balance of the orchestral parts, where everything can be heard, a tribute to both the conductor and to the balance engineers. The Onyx recording is truly excellent. Another great recording to add to Petrenko's Elgar collection. The young Russian would seem to have a real affinity with the music of Sir Edward. How about the Elgar violin concerto with fellow-Russian Alina Ibragimova as soloist?

Georges Bizet: Symphony

Georges Bizet had little success with his music in his lifetime. Even his “hit” opera, Carmen -- claimed to be the most played opera in the world -- had to wait until after his death in 1875 at the age of 36 to achieve any vestige of success. In 1935, his Symphony in C, written at the age of 17, was exhumed and given its first performance after 80 years (by Felix Weingartner). It is a lovely work, fresh, melodic and expertly written for an orchestra. One can lament that the musical world in France, and Paris, in mid-19^th century was so unfriendly to French composers and that Bizet more-or-less abandoned writing for orchestras, dictated by the current fashion.

I listened to it -- twice -- today, recorded in 1959 with Thomas Beecham conducting the ORTF orchestra in Paris. Lovely music, beautifully conducted, expertly played. 17-year olds today do not write such enchanting and enjoyable half-hour musical works. You can probably hunt the world's concert halls for live performances of Bizet's Symphony in C, but you will not find many (or any).