Rimsky-Korsakov: Sheherazade;
Capriccio Espagnol. Borodin: Polovtsian Dances. London Jubilee 417 753-2.
Tchaikovsky: Symphony # 5; Romeo and
Juliet Overture. London Weekend 433 687-2.
Berlioz: Symphonie Fantastique.
Mussorgsky: Night on Bare Mountain. London Weekend 430 137-2.
Debussy: La Mer; Prelude a l'Apres-Midi
d'un Faune; La Cathedrale Engloutie. Ravel: Daphnis et Chloe, Suite # 2. London Jubilee
417 779-2.
Wagner: Miscellaneous works. London
Weekend 421 020-2.
Beethoven: Symphonies # 5 and 7. London
Weekend 430 218-2.
Beethoven: Symphony # 9. London Weekend
421 636-2.
(The London Symphony and New Philharmonia
Orchestras, Leopold Stokowski conducting)
Most classical artists of the last century
hated or at best tolerated making records. Their objections ranged from philosophical (the
improper permanence of a living experience) to aesthetic (the inherent imperfections of
the recording process), but ego (immortality) and materialism (royalties) usually won out.
Leopold Stokowski, alone among famous
conductors, was fascinated by technology and was constantly in the forefront of each
innovation throughout his long career, which extended from acoustic to quad. Thus, he
heralded the electrical era with exaggerated bass that sounded great on the apparatus of
the time, recorded the Fantasia soundtrack in 1939 in true stereo, cut his 1950s
LPs on 35 mm magnetic film, used the full resources of the modern studio for his Phase
Four series of the 1960s, and closed his career in the 1970s with surround sound. Indeed,
he recorded one of his favorite pieces -- Stravinsky's Firebird Suite -- eight
times, to enable each generation of listeners to enjoy his interpretation in improved
state of the art sonics.
Stokowski's attitude toward recording
stemmed from his sheer love of instrumental sound. His orchestras played with a lush
sonority out of which he spotlighted particular soloists and groups, a "big
band" approach to the classics. There was nothing subtle: violins soared, brass
blared and winds screamed. In his hands, La Mer sounded more like a barnyard
squabble than Debussy's gentle interplay of wind and sea.
Nor could Stokowski resist retouching the
classics to conform to his aural ideals. He orchestrated Bach organ fugues and Debussy
piano preludes with a kaleidoscope of swirling color, condensed and recomposed
Stravinsky's Rite of Spring and added an a capella choral ending to Ravel's Daphnis
and Chloe Suite. Purists were appalled, but listeners were thrilled. Rather than
cheapen the classics, Stokowski made them accessible to legions of people who would never
have attended a Bach organ recital.
And perhaps that was the most important
aspect of Stokowski's cultural outlook. Most master conductors tend to associate only with
world-class musicians, freeze their repertory and ultimately wind down their activities.
Stokowski, though, created student orchestras throughout his career and still premiered
new works in his 90s! Stokowski passionately wanted to communicate his love of music to
the masses in every way possible, even when it meant sharing his podium with Mickey Mouse.
The culmination of Stokowski's sonic
wizardry was his series of Decca/London Phase Four recordings beginning in 1964. All were
produced by Tony d'Amato and engineered by Arthur Lilley (with a strong assist from
Stokowski himself). These are studio recordings in the proudest and most creative sense,
using spot-miking and 20-channel mixing to create an aural image far different from any
concert hall. Most of the Phase Four LPs were cut in a single session. As a result, the
performances tend to be impulsive, spontaneous and improvisatory, but the playing is
remarkably smooth and polished.
Ironically, despite their artistic and
sonic splendor, Polygram has assigned these reissues mostly to its budget-priced Weekend
Classics series. While they are often relegated to the nether regions of retail space,
Stokowski would rejoice that their snazzy graphics and low price are apt to introduce his
work to a new generation of novice listeners. Stokowski would undoubtedly be less pleased,
though, with the straightforward CD transfers, which preserve all of the severe overload
distortion of the original LPs. Had Stokowski lived to the digital era, he surely would be
back in the studio rerecording his core repertoire yet again in state of the art sound. He
is the one conductor above all others who deserves sonic cleanup.
Stokowski made little effort to elicit the
unique essence of each composer. Instead, everything he played in later years, from
Vivaldi to Ives, glowed with the same rich, glossy sheen. His Wagner, his Tchaikovsky and
in particular his Beethoven are almost too smooth, with barely a hint of the tension that
animates these works. What we hear is a contented old master, beyond life's battles,
perfectly content to bask in the sheer beauty of orchestral sound. Nothing wrong with
that!
The discs listed above are the cream of
the Stokowski Phase Four series, in rough order of preference. If you have to pick just
one, Stokowski's Scheherazade is absolutely stunning in every way, a ravishing,
breathtaking performance. The Tchaikovsky and Berlioz flow with unbridled energy, the
Debussy and Ravel swell with lush allure, and the Wagner and Beethoven discs, while far
from idiomatic, shine a new and fascinating light on familiar classics.
Notably absent from the reissues so far
are several Stokowski specialties of which he left fine Phase Four recordings. These
include Scriabin's Poem of Ecstasy (last on London LP 21117), whose very title
suggests the seething aural swirls that played directly to Stokowski's strengths. Also
missed is Stokowski's own arrangement of Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition (on
21006 or 21110) -- neither better nor worse than Ravel's standard orchestration of the
piano original -- just different, a virtue in itself which lent renewed interest and
freshness to this overly-familiar piece. And we still need Stravinsky's Firebird
(on 21026), a genuine Stokowski trademark, and the magnificent Brahms Symphony # 1,
recorded live in 1972 at Stokowski's 60th anniversary concert with the London Symphony
Orchestra (on 21090). Since the London Weekend series already contains Stokowski's quirky
Bach, Vivaldi and Handel readings, we can only hope that these more valuable remembrances
of his Phase Four years are yet to come.
[1999 update: In the six years since this
piece was written, Decca has included a number of these pieces in a mid-priced Phase Four
series that also includes some of the items missing from the London Weekend set. Although
intended as an upgrade, of those Phase Four CDs I've heard the sound seems better but it's
still somewhat disappointing.]
Copyright 1993 and 1999 by
Peter Gutmann
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