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Volume
1:
J. S. Bach: Orchestral Suite # 2
J. C. Bach: Sinfonia in B-flat
Beethoven: Leonore # 1, Leonore # 3, Coriolan, Egmont Overtures
Weber: Der Freischutz, Euryanthe & Oberon Overtures
Liszt: Les Preludes
Wagner: Lohengrin Prelude; Tannhauser Overture
Brahms: Symphony # 3; Academic Festival Overture
Pearl CDS 9018 (3 CDs)
Volume
2:
Suppe: Poet and Peasant Overture
Tchaikovsky: Symphonies #s 4 and 5; Romeo and Juliet Overture
Grieg: Two Elegaic Melodies
Mahler: Symphony # 5: Adagietto
Ravel: Bolero
Appendix of alternate versions.
Pearl CDS 9070 (3 CDs)
Before discussing this
magnificent music, there is one less pleasant matter that simply cannot be avoided in
these times of political correctness.
The Nazi onslaught was a
litmus test for European artists. Jews, of course, had no choice but to emigrate, as their
careers and ultimately their lives were slated for extinction. Others such as Casals,
Toscanini and Busch could have stayed in occupied Europe but chose to demonstrate their
disgust by refusing further association with the invaders. Caught in the middle were
Germans of conscience such as Furtwangler, who at great personal risk combined their
activities with quiet but heroic deeds. Other amoral Germans such as von Karajan, Bohm and
Krauss openly embraced the new leadership rather than uproot themselves from their native
land and heritage.
And then there was
Mengelberg, head of the Concertgebouw Orchestra in Amsterdam. When the Germans occupied
Holland, he actively collaborated, becoming a member of the German Culture Cabinet,
conducting at the Nazis' behest, giving the fascist salute, and even deporting the Jews in
his orchestra. Mengelberg's supporters insist that his wartime record included
humanitarian work and in any event was no different from that of other "pure"
artists who remained aloof from politics and who did whatever was necessary to continue
their cultural pursuits. But unlike the others, Mengelberg lived in a country that
regarded collaboration as shameful and whose citizens compiled a commendable record of
resistance. So while von Karajan, Bohm and the other amoralists were quickly restored to
public favor after the war, the Netherlands stripped Mengelberg of his past honors, barred
him from public appearances and sentenced him to permanent exile. He retired to
Switzerland, where he died in 1951.
With so many great
historic artists out there, why bother with a scoundrel? Because in spite of his politics,
Mengelberg's talents are a unique window to the performing style of the last century.
The other conductors
trained and immersed in 19th century traditions who lived to cut records generally fall
into two stylistic camps. The first included Weingartner (born in 1863), Strauss (1864)
and Toscanini (1967), who ushered in the modern era of suppressing personal interpretive
inclinations in favor of an "objective" approach to the composer's intentions.
The second school included Nikisch (1855), Mahler (1860), Fried (1871), Koussevitzky
(1874), Stokowski (1882) and Furtwangler (1886), who were known for imposing their
distinctive individual imprints upon the music they played. Mengelberg, though, was
unique, as he combined the attributes of both groups.
Mengelberg's supercharged
virtuostic performances were hardly an objective reproduction of the score. But neither
does his interpretive freedom suggest a deeply personal or egotistical inspiration.
Rather, his power stays close to the surface to display the sheer sound of a fine
orchestra. Thus, the extremes of his dynamics and tempos nearly always serve to heighten
the effects of the climaxes, melodies and other emotional emphases already written into
the score. Even in Mengelberg's most wayward moments (and his unbuckled record of Ravel's Bolero
is a riot) it is the intrinsic energy and power of the music that emerges, rather than a
highly personal vision. Thus, Mengelberg just may be the most reliable indication of the
essence of authentic 19th century conducting, in which an artist was expected to fill in
the expressive gaps in the cold written score. Mengelberg achieves this without
overpowering the music in his own personality. Thus, the Mengelberg recordings present the
aesthetic of the last century in perhaps its purest form.
Far more evident than
these subtleties as the overriding hallmark of Mengelberg's work is the gorgeous quality
of the sound itself, which arose from his extensive musical background. Mengelberg is
often remembered as a virtuoso of the orchestra, who demanded such close attention to
performance detail that his elaborate preparations included up to a half-hour of tuning
each instrument. His blended orchestral sound also emerged from his training as a singer
and his rhythmic precision and flexible tempos derived from his career as a solo pianist.
But more than anything
else, Mengelberg's lustrous sound resulted from a factor unheard of nowadays: his
continuous association with a single orchestra for a period of 50 years. After receiving
his training in Germany, Mengelberg came to Amsterdam in 1895 to lead its newly-formed
Concertgebouw Orchestra. Despite part-time assignments abroad, Mengelberg remained at the
helm of the Concertgebouw until his ouster in 1945. During that time, he raised the
ensemble from a provincial group to one of the world's top orchestras and developed the
type of precise responsiveness that only time can produce. A stunning example of the
result is heard in the andante movement of the Tchaikovsky Symphony # 4, in which
the tempo changes so constantly as to suggest a giant improvisation, but with every
instrument in awesomely precise synchronization. Typically, though, while the effect is
truly breathtaking, it smacks of virtuosity for its own sake and seems free of
self-indulgence.
The Pearl sets present an
integral collection of the 109 sides Mengelberg and the Concertgebouw cut for Columbia
from 1926 to 1932. They capture both the conductor and the orchestra at the top of their
form and are vastly superior to the later studio recordings for Telefunken (currently on a
series of Teldec CDs). The sonic quality is magnificent: rich, detailed and beautifully
balanced. The alternate takes that comprise the sixth disc are fascinating proof that
Mengelberg adopted a single fundamental view of each work, unlike other romantic
conductors whose various performances of the same work differ considerably. While nearly
every performance is excellent, the Tchaikovsky, Beethoven, Weber and Liszt are
particularly fine.
For those who want only
the cream of the Columbias, the Tchaikovsky and Brahms pieces are also available on
Claremont GSE 78-50-48/49 (2 CDs). To complete the portrait, though, two additional
releases are essential. The first is an exquisite 1939 concert of the Symphony # 4
of Gustav Mahler, whom Mengelberg befriended and ardently championed (now on Philips CD
426 108-2). The other is arguably the finest Mengelberg recording of all: an absolutely
staggering 1928 performance with the New York Philharmonic of Strauss's Ein Heldenleben,
which the composer dedicated to Mengelberg (on RCA 60929-2 with other legendary Strauss
recordings by Beecham, Koussevitzky and Stokowski).
These performances are
brilliant examples of the performing style of the last century. But within the chest of
their creator beat the heart of a fascist.
Copyright 1994 by Peter
Gutmann
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