Turning to the Classical Side

By William Bender

'Tis the season to be listening

Beethoven: The Nine Symphonies (Berlin Philharmonic, Herbert von Karajan conductor, Deutsche Grammophon; 8 LPs). His third recording of the Beethoven symphonies reaffirms the impression that Karajan, 69, is a man surcharged with new energy, and ever more confident of his powers. As one would expect from this conductor, there is no arbitrary tampering with tempos, or other excesses marching under the banner of personal insight. Karajan accepts the boundary lines and then plays the game for all he is worth. His Eroica, for example, is a shade faster than before, his Fourth broader, darker, more ruminative. But what really sets this album, apart--from its ancestors and competitors alike--is its distinctive blend of youthful pizazz and seasoned know-how.

Mussorgsky: Boris Godunov (Bass Martti Talvela, Tenor Nicolai Gedda, Polish Radio National Symphony Orchestra, Jerzy Semkow conductor, Angel; 4 LPs). At long last, here is the Boris Godunov that Mussorgsky actually wrote. For too many years the work was heard in the brilliant, often gaudy revision of Rimsky-Korsakov, who in the guise of correcting a friend's mistakes dispelled much of Mussorgsky's haunting, earthy musical originality. This new recording measures up to both the music and the debt owed Mussorgsky. Martti Talvela is rich of voice (less a black bass than a walnut) and unforgettable for both the majesty and inner delirium he brings to the Czar. Nicolai Gedda ably captures the many moods and faces of Dmitri, from subtle schemer to fevered insurgent. Conductor Jerzy Semkow marshals his forces with skill, excitement and love for the work.

Verdi: II Trovatore (Soprano Joan Sutherland, Mezzo Marilyn Home, Tenor Luciano Pavarotti, Baritone Ingvar Wixell, National Philharmonic Orchestra, London Opera Chorus, Richard Bonynge conductor, London; 3 LPs). Having come only recently to the roles of Leonora and Manrico, Sutherland and Pavarotti will undoubtedly have additional things to say about them in the future. For now, it can be said that this is a bella voce album of the first order. Devotees of the Leontyne Price-Placido Domingo set, or Price-Richard Tucker, or especially the old Zinka Milanov-Jussi Bjoerling classic--all much more dramatically vivid--may safely keep them on the shelf, however.

Berlioz: L'Enfance du Christ (Mezzo Janet Baker, Tenor Eric Tappy, Baritone Thomas Allen, London Symphony Orchestra, Colin Davis conductor, Philips; 2 LPs). Just as he could roar thunderously in the Te Deum, so Berlioz could write with reverent calm in this exquisite tapestry on the early events in Jesus' life. The music is kept deliberately simple by a chamberistic use of the orchestra and frequent resort to medieval modes and other archaic devices. Yet how fresh, urgent and devoted the result, notably in the central section--The Flight into Egypt. Continuing his pioneering Berlioz cycle, Colin Davis achieves one of his grandest accomplishments on disc.

Schubert: Symphony No. 9 in C (Concertgebouw Orchestra Amsterdam, Bernard Haitink conductor, Philips). Tradition once had it that Schubert was a songwriter incapable of mastering the complications of the symphony. Thinking differently, Toscanini was the first to give this epic work back its muscle and might. Now Haitink conducts a performance that is--partly because of his scrupulous adherence to the composer's wishes--a match for Toscanini's interpretative standard. A graceful ounce of relaxation adorns Haitink's reading like a beatific smile.

The Stokowski String Sound: Vaughan Williams' Fantasia on a Theme by Tallis; Dvorak's Serenade for Strings in E, Op. 22 (Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Leopold Stokowski conductor, Desmar). This album includes Stokowski's first recording ever of the Dvorak Serenade, and is a notable fillip to the conductor's vast recorded legacy: the playing has a clean, burnished glow devoid of the lush sound Stokowski once favored. The performances gain by the quiet surfaces done for Desmar by Teldec. Would that the average American LP were as good.

Mozart: Quintet for Clarinet and Strings, K.581; Quartet for Oboe and Strings, K.370 (Clarinetist Gervase de Peyer, Oboist Lothar Koch, Amadeus Quartet, Deutsche Grammophon). Sunshine is the gift Mozart gave us in his mellifluous Clarinet Quintet and his jaunty Oboe Quartet. Intimacy is something else again. The listener never gets close to the composer in these works, as he does, say, in the poignant String Quintet in G-minor, No matter. The distant glow is life-sustaining enough. The performances by De Peyer, Koch and the Amadeus are radiant--and unsurpassed on disc.

Tchaikovsky: Romeo and Juliet; Francesca da Rimini (Philadelphia Orchestra, Eugene Ormandy conductor, RCA). The overriding virtue of these performances is that Ormandy, now 78, never forces his hand. He simply lets his virtuoso orchestra be itself, which in this case is more than enough. RCA responds to all this with perhaps the sturdiest, clearest sound it has achieved recently in Philadelphia.

Mendelssohn: Symphony No. 4 in A ("Italian"); Schumann: Symphony No. 4 in D-minor (New Philharmonia Orchestra, Riccardo Muti conductor, Angel). It is hard to go wrong with the joyously carbonated "Italian, "and Muti does not. The Schumann D-minor is another matter. Its quasifantasia structure poses immense problems of judgment for the conductor. The score is a no man's land of shifting tempos, high-risk transitions and questionable instrumental balances. Muti soars over all the hurdles with a greater ease and sense of inevitability than anyone since the old monaural versions of Guide Cantelli and Wilhelm Furtwaengler. This is impressive work by one of Europe's busiest young maestros.

Schumann: Sonatas Nos. 1 and 2 (Pianist Lazar Berman, Columbia/Melodiya). Rachmaninoff: Piano Concerto No. 3 (Pianist Lazar Berman, London Symphony Orchestra, Claudio Abbado conductor, Columbia). Liszt: Annees de Pelerinage (Pianist Lazar Berman, Deutsche Grammophon; 3 LPs). More product, to borrow the record-company jargon, from the pianist who burst out of Russia two years ago and has been a one-man industry ever since. The less said about Berman's Schumann the better: he simply does not feel the music. No problems with the Rachmaninoff. Here is the fabled Berman technique operating with all its power, speed and subtlety and calling to mind classic interpretations by Horowitz and, of course, the composer himself. The final album, Annees de Pelerinage (Years of Pilgrimage), ought to stand by itself for years. It is a wondrously assorted anthology of piano pieces, many of which were conceived during four years of wandering through Switzerland and Italy. From the revolutionary "trumpet calls" of the opening Chapelle de Guillaume Tell to the exquisite mysteries of the Sonetto 104 del Petrarca, Berman revels in some of the most poetic landscapes known to the piano.

-- William Bender

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