For today I listened to the greatest Egyptian music ever written by an Italian, and the greatest symphony that Haydn happened to compose during that particular month.
Haydn: Symphony No. 99 - March 12th, 1949
This recording is taken from a 1949 broadcast, in which Toscanini performed this Haydn symphony for the last time. Though not a prominent part of his repertoire, Toscanini had intermittently programmed this symphony since 1930. By 1949 he had developed a sharp-edged but beautifully flowing interpretation of this work, and this last performance is one of his most satisfying accounts of the late Haydn symphonies.
The roughish edges of this recording work beautifully, and produce a more powerful cumulative effect than the elegant interpretations of conductors like Sir Thomas Beecham (Toscanini strongly disliked Beecham, whom he considered to be a bit of dilettante, and their musicianship contrasted as greatly as their personalities). The trio from the Minuet movement of this symphony is to my ears the most beautifully-played passage Toscanini ever led of 18th century music. This passage is marked by an extraordinary pastoral serenity that is completely unlike what one would expect from Toscanini in this music. It makes the tightly-argued finale all the more convincing.
Verdi: Aida - March 26th, and April 2nd, 1949
In a very real way, Aida was the work that opened and closed the nearly seventy year career of Arturo Toscanini.
The limelight was suddenly thrust on him at the age of nineteen, when the young Parma native was playing cello with a touring opera company in Rio de Janeiro in June of 1886. The extremely inept local conductor raised the ire of the orchestra, which refused to play for him only minutes before Aida was to begin (this is every orchestra's fantasy, but I have yet to witness anything like this actually happen! ). The Brazilian audience took this as a national insult, and violence seemed likely. In a desperate attempt to avoid a riot, the baton was thrust into the hands of the young Arturo Toscanini, who had helped train the singers in addition to his orchestral duties. The audience was so shocked to see a boy come up to to the podium that the disturbance was quickly quieted.
The local newspapers were extremely impressed by this debut. The Gazeta de Noticias said that "Mr. Toscanini turned out at the last minute to be a sure-handed and secure conductor," while A Evolução stated with aplomb that "this beardless maestro is a prodigy who communicated the sacred artistic fire to his baton and the energy and passion of a genuine artist to the orchestra."
Nearly sixty-three years later Toscanini recorded the same opera that had started his career. In 1949 Aida was performed over two broadcasts that were televised nationwide over NBC. These two broadcasts became the recording that was released by RCA (along with some later touch-ups), a recording that gives us a tantalizing glimpse into what Toscanini's first conducting experience may have been like. Now eighty-one years old and an elder statesman, Toscanini was obviously in a very different stage of life, and was considerably more mature as an interpreter. But I would like to think that something of his youthful experience with Aida transferred over into his late years.
Although the Otello recording from the previous season is greater, this Aida performance is the most moving of Toscanini's opera recordings. Perhaps owing to the unusually extensive experience the conductor had with this opera in staged productions (he conducted it more times than any other opera with the exception of Falstaff), this performance has more drama and theatrical ambience than in any other of the operas he programmed at NBC. It may also be that the exotic pull of this music is so powerful that it simply can't be played in any other way.
That this recording can sound like this despite extremely uneven casting is a testament to Toscanini's remarkable powers with musical pacing. Some of the singing is actually tremendously disappointing. Most notable in this regard is Eva Gustavson's portrayal of Amneris, which is a bit Miss Piggy-sounding to my ears (making me wonder if Frank Oz was back there pulling her strings). Herva Nelli was also a bit out of her element in the title role, and other tenors (notably Jussi Björling) have been more effective than Richard Tucker in the role of Radames.
These are only quibbles, however, when the thread holding this opera together is as masterful as Toscanini. Every aspect of this performance perfectly brings out the kaleidoscopic colors of Verdi's creation. The Triumphal March is played with magnificent grandeur, while the closing duet of Aida and Radames is heartbreakingly beautiful in its depiction of the last living moments of the star-crossed lovers. This is music that moves every human emotion, and every ounce of this score is exploited to its full power in Toscanini's conception.
In June of 1954, two months after his last performance as a conductor, Toscanini redid several portions of Aida in a special recording session. This proved to be the last time he ever held a baton. In a very real way, therefore, this opera truly bookended the remarkable career of Arturo Toscanini.
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That's it for Day 48!
Check back tomorrow for some Schumann, a little Cimarosa, and even a little Ravel. Let's hope these nations don't come to blows.
Happy Tuesday!
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