Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Day 41: Franz & Felix Plus 8

Hey everyone! Welcome to Day 41!

For today I listened to a stunning account of a late early-Romantic symphony and a somewhat disappointing rendition of an early mid-Romantic chamber work for octuplets that in this case have been severely beefed up.


Schubert: Symphony No. 9 - February 25th, 1947

Schubert's Symphony No. 9 was always a staple of Toscanini's repertoire - it was programmed on the conductor's very first symphonic concert, at Turin's Teatro Regio in 1896, and had performances as late as Toscanini's penultimate season at NBC in 1953. The symphony was also recorded three times by the maestro, making it one of only seven works to have three or more commercial recordings from Toscanini. The first of these Schubert recordings was given with the Philadelphia Orchestra in 1941 (although that recording was not released until the 1960s), and the last in February of 1953.

Though Toscanini consistently performed this work in a very straightforward manner that was lacking in affected mannerisms, this middle version of 1947 is interesting for its particularly taut lines and sharp edges. Mortimer H. Frank notes that Toscanini's conception of this work is "heroic but at times insufficiently lyrical for some tastes." This is an apt description of an interpretation that avoided many of the pillowy sonorities with which the work is oftentimes performed.

A couple of weeks ago, in discussing Toscanini's Philadelphia Orchestra recording of the Schubert Ninth, I alluded to the fact that for a long time I did not care for this piece. Only recently have I begun to come to terms with it, and the brilliance of Toscanini's interpretation has had a substantial influence on me in this regard. Only through experiencing the strength and transparency of his conception have I begun to understand the proto-Brucknerian aspects of this work, which to my ears are clouded over in more self-consciously weighty performances. Toscanini's vitality gives a muscular strength to each section of the orchestra that is remarkably organ-like, much like how Bruckner's music is often described. While it is true that there are moments that are overly brisk (the opening of the second movement, for example), Toscanini's way with the work as a whole gives it a unity that fits the interpretive pieces together in grand symbiosis.

Although the NBC Symphony did not have the same golden sonorities that the Philadelphia Orchestra possessed, this 1947 recording is most respects my favorite of the three recordings. Though it is in some ways the most extreme of the three versions, it has a unity of purpose and cumulative inevitability that is nothing short of spectacular.

Mendelssohn: Octet for Strings - March 30th, 1947

In contrast to the Schubert Symphony, I have long had a tremendous affection for the Mendelssohn Octet. This work is the ultimate Symphony to Youth, and its life force has an intoxicating ecstasy to it that is almost mystical. Perhaps earlier in life Toscanini could have given a convincing orchestral performance of this work, but the now eighty-year-old conductor was probably past the point of being able to make a strong case for this over-sized version of Mendelssohn's ultimate creation of vitality.

This recording is by no means a failure, but it is a bit labored and chunky. Mendelssohn's driving lines are here rendered with a rather gruff execution, and the sonorities fall slack owing to the massed forces behind the wheel. This Symphony to Youth here slouches into experience and disillusionment, losing the idealistic edge of its transcendent ivory tower.

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That's it for Day 41!

Check back tomorrow for more Mendelssohn, and if we have time a little Beethoven.

Happy Tuesday!

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