Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 1, Symphony No. 2
Clik here to view.
BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 1, Symphony No. 2Symphony No. 3, Coriolan Overture
Recorded in stereo in 1957 & 1959
Recorded in stereo in 1957 & 1959
The Philharmonia Orchestra
Otto Klemperer, conductor
Otto Klemperer, conductor
Pristine Classical PABX012 (stereo), (P) 2013
FLACs, artwork
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 4, Symphony No. 5
Symphony No. 6, Große Fuge
Recorded in stereo between 1956 & 1959
Symphony No. 6, Große Fuge
Recorded in stereo between 1956 & 1959
Otto Klemperer, conductor
FLACs, artwork
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.BEETHOVEN Symphony No.7, Symphony No. 8
Clik here to view.
BEETHOVEN Symphony No.7, Symphony No. 8Symphony No. 9
Recorded in stereo 1957 & 1960
Recorded in stereo 1957 & 1960
Aase Nordmo Løvberg soprano; Christa Ludwig alto
Waldemar Kmentt tenor; Hans Hotter bass
Waldemar Kmentt tenor; Hans Hotter bass
The Philharmonia Chorus and Philharmonia Orchestra
Otto Klemperer conductor
CD Layout:
CD1: Symphonies 1 and 2
CD2: Symphony 3 and Coriolan Overture
CD3: Symphonies 4 and 5
CD4: Symphony 6 and Große Fuge
CD5: Symphonies 7 and 8
CD6: Symphony 9
Fanfare Review
There is a perceptible improvement to be enjoyed as a result of Rose’s remastering efforts
These releases represent a sonic update by Andrew Rose of the well-known and highly regarded Klemperer EMI Kingsway Hall releases from 1956-60, plus the Grosse Fuge recorded at Abbey Road Studio One. Though EMI pressings of that era could be noisy and sometimes less than luminous, the master tapes themselves have always been considered to represent the best that was possible in early stereo, and listeners have been able to enjoy them on CD for some time now without having to make too many allowances for antiquity. There is nonetheless a perceptible improvement to be enjoyed as a result of Rose’s remastering efforts.
The sound here seems to have had a veil lifted from the treble, and the general effect of comparing these CDs side by side with the EMI releases is to note a greater kaleidoscopic and reverberant depth as a result of Rose’s efforts. These CDs sound nearly modern in their lack of “flatness.” And for long stretches one nearly forgets entirely the age of the endeavor. Of course, dynamics in climaxes tend to back away from the listener a bit, and the price of greater luminosity is sometimes a slight metallic tinge to the reverberant field. But all of this is so subtle, that the general effect is of a nearly modern set of recordings. There is little real distortion. A happy plus in these releases is the inclusion as liner notes of the original Gramophone reviews from the cycle.
Rehearing after many years, I’m struck by how normal Klemperer’s pacing actually is, for a conductor often accused of slowness. He was clearly in full vigor for these interpretations. And the Philharmonia of his era was an elegant orchestra, as close as Britain ever got to replicating the smoothness and elision of phrasing possible in Berlin and Vienna. It does not hurt that the other major conductor most associated with recording the Philharmonia during this period was Herbert von Karajan! Karajan consciously aimed to combine the electricity of Toscanini with the smoother and more metaphysical view favored by Furtwängler. Klemperer, by contrast, sought a slower and more consistently rounded approach, not unlike Furtwängler’s, but without Furtwängler’s sudden shifts in tempo.
The Fifth and Seventh symphonies make for good cases in point. Listening is like watching a powerful railroad train from the air. The train moves massively and even swiftly. It does not seem to slow down going uphill, nor speed-up going down. It leans slightly into curves, but its weight carries it around them at full speed. One is aware of great mass-in-motion and the sheer impressiveness of its unstoppability. Indeed, this power is so striking, one is tempted to extend the metaphor and suggest that period-performance practices of the present day are giving us toy trains!
Back in the early 1960s, much was made of how slowly the scherzo in the “Pastorale” came across in Walter’s Columbia Symphony recording—and it was commented that Klemperer’s recording was even slower. But listening with fresh ears, I’m struck by how well Klemperer’s tempo comports with a group of people actually dancing. If you were watching a folk dance on the village green, the participants would most likely move at a tempo like this—one which takes into account the sheer physics of mass and movement. Thought about this way, the more common “Pastorale” tempo choices often seem cartoonish and un-danceable.
In general, when it comes to phrasing Beethoven, an irreverent analysis might go like this: Toscanini—dogs sneezing; Karajan—a bullet train; Klemperer—a hundred car freight train.
I’m happy to be a hobo on this one. Save me a boxcar!
Steven KrugerThis article originally appeared in Issue 36:6 (July/Aug 2013) of Fanfare Magazine.