MOZART Symphony No. 41, “Jupiter.” BRUCKNER Symphony No. 7 (ed. Haas)
Herbert von Karajan, cond; Vienna PO
ICA 5102, mono (2 CDs: 92:36) Live: Royal Festival
Hall, London 4/6/1962
The recordings were made by the BBC. But before anybody gets excited
about the Corporation finally opening up its archives to commercial record
labels, that’s not what’s happened. The source for the tapes is the Music
Preserved charity, who in turn sourced them from the Borthwick Institute at the
University of York. The BBC’s logo appears on each of the discs though,
suggesting they have at least endorsed the project. The sound quality is
reasonable given the age. The mono sound is clear, but the almost complete absence
of tape noise suggests some quite intrusive processing at the remastering
stage. There are one or two clicks in the sound here and there, presumably tape
damage, but they have been reduced virtually to silence. The sound of the
orchestra is clear but not particularly involving.
The first disc opens with recordings of the British and Austrian
national anthems from the start of the concert. I’ve no idea who these are
intended to benefit; the musical interest they offer is limited to say the
least. Some of the advertising literature for this release states that the
concert appears here complete, so perhaps their presence is intended to enhance
that impression. In fact, the encore is missing, a performance of the Meistersinger Overture, which would have
been much more welcome. Unfortunately, though, the BBC technicians had turned
their machines off by then and returned their listeners to Broadcasting House.
Osborne draws parallels between Karajan’s “Jupiter” and Strauss’s.
Apparently Strauss’s performances of the Symphony were the model that Karajan
aspired to. Certainly, the combination of elegance and propulsion that we find
in Struass’s version is present here, but in general, Karajan’s version is much
slower, or at least seems so. To modern ears, the whole Symphony feels very
under tempo, although, this being Karajan, the music always flows and the tempo
choices always seem logical. The finale, in particular moves at what feels like
a glacial pace, a stark contrast to Strauss’s nimble and highly-charged
version. In fact, the Karajan is almost exactly the same duration (5:45 to
Strauss’s 5:37 in 1926), but everything about it is weightier; Strauss sounds
positively frivolous by comparison.
The Bruckner is a similar case: fast by Karajan’s standards but slow by
today’s. Osborne informs us that, at 63:07, the performance is faster than any
of Karajan’s commercial recordings. It doesn’t feel it though. All the majesty
and splendor of his studio versions are present. Perhaps the slightly faster
tempos allow him to increase the drama in the outer movement climaxes, but he
was more than capable of doing that through his manipulation and maintenance of
the orchestra’s tone. That’s where this recording of the Bruckner fall down,
sadly. The thinness of the orchestral sound, especially the strings, compromises
Karajan’s reading throughout. If that is a result of over-zealous restoration,
then it is a great shame, although it may just as likely have originated from
the original tapes. Some of the playing is a bit scrappy too, at least by this
orchestra’s standards. The woodwind occasionally struggle with their ensemble
and often lack unity of intent.
An interesting historical release then, but
hardly an essential one. It proves, if any proof were needed, that Karajan
could conjure as much magic in the concert hall as he could in the recording
studio. The faster tempos in the Bruckner may separate this reading from his
commercial releases, but they make very little difference to the listening
experience. A worthy supplement to Karajan’s impressive discography of both
composer’s music, but separated from his studio versions only by the smallest
of interpretive details. This review appears in Fanfare Magazine, issue 37:2.
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