Welcome to Day 13! Today brings us a big-boned French symphony, an under-nourished Russian folk dance, and a muscular Russian ballet score. Let's get started!
Franck: Symphony in D Minor - December 14th, 1940 and March 24th, 1946
I must admit I do not like the Franck D Minor. Actually to be more accurate I find it extremely frustrating. It is filled with wonderful ideas that just don't go anywhere and lead to a climax that is beautiful and triumphant without having earned its ending. I have heard one recording of this symphony that is so exquisitely paced that I almost enjoy it, and that is Pierre Monteux's stunning 1961 performance with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Monteux has such a beautiful approach to phrasing and linking lines together that his take on the Franck symphony has a dignity of purpose that I have literally heard nowhere else. Toscanini does a relatively good job with this symphony, but I wished for him to be a little more Toscanini.
With the exception of the second movement Toscanini actually takes this symphony at significantly broader tempos than are traditional. Places where you would expect typically Toscanini incisive accents and sharp clarity are instead smoothed over and given a weight that is typically associated with Germanic conductors. This is all well and good with the right music, but the Franck Symphony needs sharper contours to allow it to fully bloom structurally.
You may have noticed that the two dates for this recording were separated by more than five years, and that is because when RCA suggested releasing the 1946 NBC broadcast of the symphony Toscanini rejected the second and third movements due to some lapses in precision. He was satisfied with how those movements went in his 1940 broadcast, and so the recording ended up taking the form it has, with the first movement having been recorded more than five years after movements two and three. Despite this long gap I don't sense any disconnect of affect in this recording, and that probably says as much about the bond Toscanini had with the NBC Symphony as it does about the consistency of his view towards Franck.
Ultimately this recording is one of the best that has been made of the Franck - it has all the strength and continuity of the finest Toscanini performances. It also lacks that certain something that makes this music great.
Glinka: Kamarinskaya - December 21st, 1940
I know what you're thinking: Glinka wrote more than just the Russlan and Ludmilla overture? Not only is the answer to that question a most definitive yes, but Toscanini even programmed two Glinka works that are not Russlan and Ludmilla: Kamarinskaya and a piece he wrote in Spain called Jota Aragonesa (on top of this, Toscanini never did perform the Russlan overture). I had not heard of Kamarinskaya before discovering the Toscanini recording, but my extensive and scholarly researches led me to a wikipedia page that explains that a Kamarinskaya is a traditional Russian folk dance "which is mostly known today as the Russian composer Mikhail Glinka's magnum opus." Huh, I never would have guessed.
What exactly attracted Toscanini to this piece I have no idea. There is certainly nothing offensive about it, but it just kind of sits there for its six minute duration, with bouncy figurations that never seem to lead to an actual dance (just like some dates I went on in high school). The performance is effective enough, but the work never really seems to get off the ground. I suppose Toscanini was doing his best with it, but there's only so much you can do with a piece like this. I can only assume Toscanini liked it very much, but I can't say I'm persuaded.
Stravinsky: Tableaux I and IV from Petrushka - December 21st, 1940
There is such spark and vitality to this performance that it actually makes me a bit angry that Toscanini wouldn't broaden his repertory into more works like this. I'm sure he would have led a fabulous Rite of Spring, and could probably have even been a superb interpreter of Varèse (a composer he despised and had a much-publicized public argument with). All we can do is imagine the kind of performances Toscanini would have given to these works, but fortunately we do have this recording of Petrushka, albeit without the ballet's two middle tableaux. At first the NBC Symphony seems a little uncomfortable with this music (I can't imagine they had played much like it yet under Toscanini) but settle down into a performance that brims with energy and bustle. Toscanini uses the monstrously anticlimactic concert ending, which is very unfortunate, but doesn't detract from what is otherwise one of the finest and most surprising performances I have heard of this Stravinsky masterpiece.
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That's it for Day 13! Have a great rest of your day and I'll be back tomorrow with three great Wagner recordings and a few toys on top.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
Day 12: Sibelius always ends with a big Finnish.
Welcome to Day 12! Today will be an all-Sibelius day, with the two works Toscanini approved for commercial release from his NBC broadcast of December 7th, 1940. As these works are so different in character, it should not be surprising that Toscanini performs them each very differently. Unfortunately one was much more successful in its effect than the other.
Sibelius: Symphony No. 2 - December 7th, 1940
It is usually in reviews of Toscanini conducting the work of composers like Sibelius that absurd nationalist-grouping nonsense creeps in: "Although brilliantly played, the performance was far more Mediterranean than Nordic in character", or "The Finnish severity was tempered by Italian lyricism" or "The work's sonority took a noticeable trip south for warmer climates." Comments such as these get extremely tiresome to read and add nothing to our understanding of what the music means. After all, did Sibelius really mean to compose specifically Finnish-sounding music?
Well, yes actually. As much as I despise reviewer statements like the ones I lampooned above, in the case of the Sibelius Second Symphony I hear a bit of truth to them. Toscanini performs this entire symphony with an aggressive strength and intense lyricism that is more appropriate to verismo opera than Sibelius. This is not always a bad thing - certain passages in the first movement have a beautiful clarity that is rarely duplicated in other performances, and the entire third movement is gripping in its tensile whirling figures and broadly sustained lines. However in most cases the performance suffers from Toscanini's overwrought interpretation. Most glaring in this regard is the second movement, which almost sounds like it has to be a joke. Toscanini evidently believes the andante pulse relates to the dotted quarter note rather than the eighth note, resulting in a tempo more than twice as fast as normal. Even the dynamics are compressed both in duration and amplitude: the broad hairpins in the brass are so streamlined that hardly any dynamic change is even noticeable. (Speaking of which, this performance has the worst brass playing I have yet heard from the NBC Symphony. The tutti climaxes sound like students blaring away at their most obnoxious, which is especially puzzling in light of the sensitive playing they demonstrated in other works from the very same concert.)
This recording is not a complete failure, but nor is it a success. Toscanini does illuminate certain aspects of the score in an admirable way, but his overall understanding of the work is highly suspect. Although there are moments of great beauty to be found in this performance, these moments are overshadowed by long stretches of high-strung and unsympathetic lack of refinement.
Sibelius: Pojhola's Daughter - December 7th, 1940
This performance of Pojhola's Daughter comes from the very same concert as the Symphony No. 2, and is much, much more successful as an interpretation. This most impressionistic of Sibelius scores is performed with a breathtaking delicacy that nonetheless does not shy away from the almost Straussian interpolations from the brass. The ending in particular is sustained with a breathtaking strand of line from the strings that seems to literally melt into the beyond. This is Toscanini at his most thought-provokingly sensitive, and it is a bit of a mystery to me how this recording can possibly have been drawn from the same concert as the inappropriately intense Symphony No. 2. To paraphrase Albus Dumbledore, I can only assume that with a figure such as Toscanini, who was rather greater than most musicians, his mistakes tended to be correspondingly huger.
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That's all for Day 12! Check back tomorrow for Franck's Symphony in D Minor and works by Glinka and (wait for it...) Stravinsky. See you then!
Sibelius: Symphony No. 2 - December 7th, 1940
It is usually in reviews of Toscanini conducting the work of composers like Sibelius that absurd nationalist-grouping nonsense creeps in: "Although brilliantly played, the performance was far more Mediterranean than Nordic in character", or "The Finnish severity was tempered by Italian lyricism" or "The work's sonority took a noticeable trip south for warmer climates." Comments such as these get extremely tiresome to read and add nothing to our understanding of what the music means. After all, did Sibelius really mean to compose specifically Finnish-sounding music?
Well, yes actually. As much as I despise reviewer statements like the ones I lampooned above, in the case of the Sibelius Second Symphony I hear a bit of truth to them. Toscanini performs this entire symphony with an aggressive strength and intense lyricism that is more appropriate to verismo opera than Sibelius. This is not always a bad thing - certain passages in the first movement have a beautiful clarity that is rarely duplicated in other performances, and the entire third movement is gripping in its tensile whirling figures and broadly sustained lines. However in most cases the performance suffers from Toscanini's overwrought interpretation. Most glaring in this regard is the second movement, which almost sounds like it has to be a joke. Toscanini evidently believes the andante pulse relates to the dotted quarter note rather than the eighth note, resulting in a tempo more than twice as fast as normal. Even the dynamics are compressed both in duration and amplitude: the broad hairpins in the brass are so streamlined that hardly any dynamic change is even noticeable. (Speaking of which, this performance has the worst brass playing I have yet heard from the NBC Symphony. The tutti climaxes sound like students blaring away at their most obnoxious, which is especially puzzling in light of the sensitive playing they demonstrated in other works from the very same concert.)
This recording is not a complete failure, but nor is it a success. Toscanini does illuminate certain aspects of the score in an admirable way, but his overall understanding of the work is highly suspect. Although there are moments of great beauty to be found in this performance, these moments are overshadowed by long stretches of high-strung and unsympathetic lack of refinement.
Sibelius: Pojhola's Daughter - December 7th, 1940
This performance of Pojhola's Daughter comes from the very same concert as the Symphony No. 2, and is much, much more successful as an interpretation. This most impressionistic of Sibelius scores is performed with a breathtaking delicacy that nonetheless does not shy away from the almost Straussian interpolations from the brass. The ending in particular is sustained with a breathtaking strand of line from the strings that seems to literally melt into the beyond. This is Toscanini at his most thought-provokingly sensitive, and it is a bit of a mystery to me how this recording can possibly have been drawn from the same concert as the inappropriately intense Symphony No. 2. To paraphrase Albus Dumbledore, I can only assume that with a figure such as Toscanini, who was rather greater than most musicians, his mistakes tended to be correspondingly huger.
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That's all for Day 12! Check back tomorrow for Franck's Symphony in D Minor and works by Glinka and (wait for it...) Stravinsky. See you then!
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Day 11: A Day for Concerted Concertos and Reflection
Welcome to Day 11 of the Toscanini Project.
Today marks an important anniversary, and I wanted to take a moment to remember September 11th, 2001, a date that will live in infamy and forever in memory.
As the academic year of 2001 began I was entering my senior year at the University of North Texas and living in my first apartment. I was to have conducting class at 10:00 that morning, and I woke up and showered as though this would be any other school day. I ate breakfast over trash television (Ricki Lake) as was my wont at that time. Before heading out for class I thought I would flip the channels a bit, and noticed that Telemundo had a reporter standing in front of a smoke-filled New York skyline. I couldn't understand him, but it seemed like something big was happening. I changed over to ABC just as the North Tower of the World Trade Center was collapsing.
After an hour or so of watching the events unfold on television I decided I'd better be getting to school. Classes were obviously going to be canceled for some time, and I wanted to make sure I got my bass home before the music building was locked up. As I was walking towards campus I cut through a field where I heard the chatter of many thousands of insects. Still numb from the events of the day, it seemed strange to be listening to so much life all around me on a day in which so much life had been snuffed out.
There is no way to change those things that are unspeakably painful once they have taken place, and the horrors of September 11th will remain horrors no matter what happens next. What's important moving forward is how we deal with that pain. Music has served as the antidote to the horrors of the world for all of history. Toscanini was in many ways far from admirable as a human being, but he understood the healing power of music in profound ways. As World War II was raging Toscanini made beautiful music that touched all who could listen to the radio. It is in that spirit that I listened to his recorded performances on this most contemplative of days, September 11th, 2011.
Beethoven: Violin Concerto - March 11th, 1940
First the good news: in this recording we get to hear the most famous violinist of the 20th century accompanied by the most famous conductor of the 20th century in what is arguably the greatest concerto ever written in any century. Now the bad news: I utterly despise this performance.
Jascha Heifitz plays Beethoven's great concerto with a glibness that borders on smug. At no point is there the remotest sense of line to the phrase, and notes go tumbling by as though they serve no musical purpose beyond saying "I'm Heifitz, bitch!"(apparently in his mind Heifitz spoke just like Dave Chappelle)
Toscanini evidently never really enjoyed programming concertos. His own will was so strong that he found it difficult to collaborate with other strong-willed artists. There are moments in the orchestral tuttis of this concerto that are the equal of Toscanini's finest Beethoven recordings, but overall I see this recording as a catastrophic failure. The second movement of this concerto is to me a stunningly evocative depiction of Heaven, and Heifitz seems to turn this music into a maudlin exercise in violinistic sonority. I can't help but feel a bit insulted.
Brahms: Piano Concerto No. 2 - May 9th, 1940
This recording is much, much better than the Beethoven. This may have something to do with the fact that Toscanini's soloist, the great Vladimir Horowitz, was also his son-in-law. Toscanini may well have felt there was no choice but to work out a finely molded, collaborative interpretation for the sake of family unity.
The tempos in this performance are a bit on the brisk side of what is considered traditional, but at least in the case of the first movement still short of the composer's marking. Brahms left metronome marks for only eight works (this concerto included), and begrudgingly allowed these marks to be published with those pieces. He never thought much of the metronome, and spoke about its uselessness in light of the fact that in most performances the tempo will have already changed by the second measure. Nonetheless he did allow his friends to pressure him into providing metronome marks for this Bb Major Piano Concerto that were evidently based on tempos he had taken himself in performance.
The first movement marking of one quarter note equaling 126 is pretty much universally ignored in favor of a weighty gait that almost gives the music a "new age" feel that to my ears is far removed from Brahms. The composer was obviously correct that performances cannot be expected to remain at one tempo from start to finish (and even if this were possible it would be quite undesirable), but using his markings as a guidepost can help to produce performances of great power that avoid exaggerative distortion. Toscanini spoke about tempo in similar terms: "The tempo must change, weaving in and out - but always close and always returning."
Although Toscanini and Horowitz do not quite meet the metronome indication, this performance is about as close as I have yet heard, and still unfolds with power without seeming rushed. Horowitz's playing is very sensitive and nuanced throughout, without any of the bangy qualities he had in his lesser moments. The overall sonority is still a little lighter than I would like in an ideal performance of this piece, but the NBC Symphony accompanies the soloist with a grand expressiveness that perfectly suits the performance.
.............................................................................................................................................
That's it for Day 11 and for the recordings Toscanini made during his third NBC season. Tomorrow will be a Sibelius day, featuring the Symphony No. 2 and Pojhola's Daughter. Please have a safe and reflective evening.
Today marks an important anniversary, and I wanted to take a moment to remember September 11th, 2001, a date that will live in infamy and forever in memory.
As the academic year of 2001 began I was entering my senior year at the University of North Texas and living in my first apartment. I was to have conducting class at 10:00 that morning, and I woke up and showered as though this would be any other school day. I ate breakfast over trash television (Ricki Lake) as was my wont at that time. Before heading out for class I thought I would flip the channels a bit, and noticed that Telemundo had a reporter standing in front of a smoke-filled New York skyline. I couldn't understand him, but it seemed like something big was happening. I changed over to ABC just as the North Tower of the World Trade Center was collapsing.
After an hour or so of watching the events unfold on television I decided I'd better be getting to school. Classes were obviously going to be canceled for some time, and I wanted to make sure I got my bass home before the music building was locked up. As I was walking towards campus I cut through a field where I heard the chatter of many thousands of insects. Still numb from the events of the day, it seemed strange to be listening to so much life all around me on a day in which so much life had been snuffed out.
There is no way to change those things that are unspeakably painful once they have taken place, and the horrors of September 11th will remain horrors no matter what happens next. What's important moving forward is how we deal with that pain. Music has served as the antidote to the horrors of the world for all of history. Toscanini was in many ways far from admirable as a human being, but he understood the healing power of music in profound ways. As World War II was raging Toscanini made beautiful music that touched all who could listen to the radio. It is in that spirit that I listened to his recorded performances on this most contemplative of days, September 11th, 2011.
Beethoven: Violin Concerto - March 11th, 1940
First the good news: in this recording we get to hear the most famous violinist of the 20th century accompanied by the most famous conductor of the 20th century in what is arguably the greatest concerto ever written in any century. Now the bad news: I utterly despise this performance.
Jascha Heifitz plays Beethoven's great concerto with a glibness that borders on smug. At no point is there the remotest sense of line to the phrase, and notes go tumbling by as though they serve no musical purpose beyond saying "I'm Heifitz, bitch!"(apparently in his mind Heifitz spoke just like Dave Chappelle)
Toscanini evidently never really enjoyed programming concertos. His own will was so strong that he found it difficult to collaborate with other strong-willed artists. There are moments in the orchestral tuttis of this concerto that are the equal of Toscanini's finest Beethoven recordings, but overall I see this recording as a catastrophic failure. The second movement of this concerto is to me a stunningly evocative depiction of Heaven, and Heifitz seems to turn this music into a maudlin exercise in violinistic sonority. I can't help but feel a bit insulted.
Brahms: Piano Concerto No. 2 - May 9th, 1940
This recording is much, much better than the Beethoven. This may have something to do with the fact that Toscanini's soloist, the great Vladimir Horowitz, was also his son-in-law. Toscanini may well have felt there was no choice but to work out a finely molded, collaborative interpretation for the sake of family unity.
The tempos in this performance are a bit on the brisk side of what is considered traditional, but at least in the case of the first movement still short of the composer's marking. Brahms left metronome marks for only eight works (this concerto included), and begrudgingly allowed these marks to be published with those pieces. He never thought much of the metronome, and spoke about its uselessness in light of the fact that in most performances the tempo will have already changed by the second measure. Nonetheless he did allow his friends to pressure him into providing metronome marks for this Bb Major Piano Concerto that were evidently based on tempos he had taken himself in performance.
The first movement marking of one quarter note equaling 126 is pretty much universally ignored in favor of a weighty gait that almost gives the music a "new age" feel that to my ears is far removed from Brahms. The composer was obviously correct that performances cannot be expected to remain at one tempo from start to finish (and even if this were possible it would be quite undesirable), but using his markings as a guidepost can help to produce performances of great power that avoid exaggerative distortion. Toscanini spoke about tempo in similar terms: "The tempo must change, weaving in and out - but always close and always returning."
Although Toscanini and Horowitz do not quite meet the metronome indication, this performance is about as close as I have yet heard, and still unfolds with power without seeming rushed. Horowitz's playing is very sensitive and nuanced throughout, without any of the bangy qualities he had in his lesser moments. The overall sonority is still a little lighter than I would like in an ideal performance of this piece, but the NBC Symphony accompanies the soloist with a grand expressiveness that perfectly suits the performance.
.............................................................................................................................................
That's it for Day 11 and for the recordings Toscanini made during his third NBC season. Tomorrow will be a Sibelius day, featuring the Symphony No. 2 and Pojhola's Daughter. Please have a safe and reflective evening.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Day 10: Consensual Romantic Overtures
Welcome to Day 10! This will be the shortest day yet due to an endless amount of things to do today, but I wanted to uphold my promise of posting every day.
These three overtures come from Toscanini's famous six-week Beethoven cycle during his third season at NBC in 1939. Many observers felt this was the crowning achievement of his time at NBC (yesterday's recording of the Eroica also came from this cycle). His later Beethoven performances have all the continuity and intelligence you would expect from a master musician, but Toscanini never fully recaptured the fire and beauty of phrasing from these 1939 broadcasts. Here is my obscenely long-winded take on these performances:
Beethoven: Leonore Overture No. 3 - November 4th, 1939
This is a very good performance, full of fire and precision.
Beethoven: Egmont Overture - November 18th, 1939
This is also is very good - at turns energetic and stately.
Beethoven: Leonore Overture No. 2 - November 25th, 1939
This performance is pretty good. I don't care for the piece so much.
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And that's that!
Tomorrow brings two concertos: the Brahms Bb Piano Concerto with Vladimir Horowitz, and the Beethoven Violin Concerto with Jascha Heifitz.
Have a great weekend and I'll see you tomorrow!
These three overtures come from Toscanini's famous six-week Beethoven cycle during his third season at NBC in 1939. Many observers felt this was the crowning achievement of his time at NBC (yesterday's recording of the Eroica also came from this cycle). His later Beethoven performances have all the continuity and intelligence you would expect from a master musician, but Toscanini never fully recaptured the fire and beauty of phrasing from these 1939 broadcasts. Here is my obscenely long-winded take on these performances:
Beethoven: Leonore Overture No. 3 - November 4th, 1939
This is a very good performance, full of fire and precision.
Beethoven: Egmont Overture - November 18th, 1939
This is also is very good - at turns energetic and stately.
Beethoven: Leonore Overture No. 2 - November 25th, 1939
This performance is pretty good. I don't care for the piece so much.
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And that's that!
Tomorrow brings two concertos: the Brahms Bb Piano Concerto with Vladimir Horowitz, and the Beethoven Violin Concerto with Jascha Heifitz.
Have a great weekend and I'll see you tomorrow!
Friday, September 9, 2011
Day 9: Make sure you don't spell Eroica with an extra "t". You won't like the search results if you do.
Hey everyone, welcome to Day 9! The All Eroica All Day Special.
Beethoven: Symphony No. 3 - October 28th, 1939
Overly reverent conductors of the work of Beethoven would do well to remember that one of the reviewers of the first performance of the Eroica in 1805 felt that in this "tremendously expanded, daring, and wild fantasia" there was no lack of "startling and beautiful passages in which the energetic and talented composer must be recognized." Ultimately he felt that the Eroica "lost itself in lawlessness" and that "there is too much that is glaring and bizarre." Another critic said that "genius proclaims itself not in the unusual and fantastic, but in the beautiful and sublime" and complained that the Eroica's "inordinate length" was "unendurable to the mere music-lover." Ouch. It seems audiences were no more attuned to the complicated and unfamiliar in 1805 than they are now.
The truest words ever spoken about the interpretation of Beethoven were written Michael Steinberg in his fabulous The Symphony: A Listener's Guide:
"We would do well at this point to remember that we are not likely to find it 'unusual and fantastic' either - which, if so, is very much our loss. When it comes to maintaining a sense of the 'unusual and fantastic' or just of freshness, we are not much helped by conductors, particularly the ones whose attitude of reverence and awe before A Great Classic leads them into 'monumental' tempi at which the length of the work easily becomes 'inordinate', if not 'unendurable'. Of course the rare conductor of genius like Furtwängler or Klemperer can make a convincing case for a 'monumental' Eroica. More valuable by far is the fiery performance - at Beethoven's tempi or something close to them - that can give us an experience like the one the audience in the Theater an der Wien in 1805 must have had, that of an electrifying, frightening encounter with revolution, with a force sufficient to blast doors and windows out of the room. Once in a while that happens, but it is rare. Too rare."
(I have been trying to paraphrase that statement for years now, but I just can't put it like Steinberg.)
I have little to add to this, for Toscanini's unimaginably powerful recording of this symphony is played with a force sufficient to blast doors and windows out of the room. The NBC Symphony plays like an orchestra possessed, and for once one can really hear those things that were "glaring and bizarre" to the first listeners of the symphony. As much as I respect the work of conductors such as Furtwängler and Klemperer, their reverently "monumental" take on the Eroica does Beethoven a tremendous disservice. This was radical new music in 1805, and deserves to be played like radical new music in 2011 or in any other year. Toscanini understood this like no other interpreter I have heard for this work, and that is why I believe this is the greatest recording ever made of the Eroica.
That's really all I have to say about this. I would urge you to find this recording and listen to its ceaseless glories for yourself.
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That's it for Day 9. Tomorrow will feature three Beethoven overtures. Enjoy your Friday night, and I will see you tomorrow!
Beethoven: Symphony No. 3 - October 28th, 1939
Overly reverent conductors of the work of Beethoven would do well to remember that one of the reviewers of the first performance of the Eroica in 1805 felt that in this "tremendously expanded, daring, and wild fantasia" there was no lack of "startling and beautiful passages in which the energetic and talented composer must be recognized." Ultimately he felt that the Eroica "lost itself in lawlessness" and that "there is too much that is glaring and bizarre." Another critic said that "genius proclaims itself not in the unusual and fantastic, but in the beautiful and sublime" and complained that the Eroica's "inordinate length" was "unendurable to the mere music-lover." Ouch. It seems audiences were no more attuned to the complicated and unfamiliar in 1805 than they are now.
The truest words ever spoken about the interpretation of Beethoven were written Michael Steinberg in his fabulous The Symphony: A Listener's Guide:
"We would do well at this point to remember that we are not likely to find it 'unusual and fantastic' either - which, if so, is very much our loss. When it comes to maintaining a sense of the 'unusual and fantastic' or just of freshness, we are not much helped by conductors, particularly the ones whose attitude of reverence and awe before A Great Classic leads them into 'monumental' tempi at which the length of the work easily becomes 'inordinate', if not 'unendurable'. Of course the rare conductor of genius like Furtwängler or Klemperer can make a convincing case for a 'monumental' Eroica. More valuable by far is the fiery performance - at Beethoven's tempi or something close to them - that can give us an experience like the one the audience in the Theater an der Wien in 1805 must have had, that of an electrifying, frightening encounter with revolution, with a force sufficient to blast doors and windows out of the room. Once in a while that happens, but it is rare. Too rare."
(I have been trying to paraphrase that statement for years now, but I just can't put it like Steinberg.)
I have little to add to this, for Toscanini's unimaginably powerful recording of this symphony is played with a force sufficient to blast doors and windows out of the room. The NBC Symphony plays like an orchestra possessed, and for once one can really hear those things that were "glaring and bizarre" to the first listeners of the symphony. As much as I respect the work of conductors such as Furtwängler and Klemperer, their reverently "monumental" take on the Eroica does Beethoven a tremendous disservice. This was radical new music in 1805, and deserves to be played like radical new music in 2011 or in any other year. Toscanini understood this like no other interpreter I have heard for this work, and that is why I believe this is the greatest recording ever made of the Eroica.
That's really all I have to say about this. I would urge you to find this recording and listen to its ceaseless glories for yourself.
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That's it for Day 9. Tomorrow will feature three Beethoven overtures. Enjoy your Friday night, and I will see you tomorrow!
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Day 8: The Seven Veils of Perpetual Motion - or The Possimpible.
Hey everyone! Day 8 is here!
Today's listening took me to two fabulous Beethoven symphonies, the theme from a classic Western, an operatic strip-tease, and the realm of The Possimpible. Let's get started!
Strauss: Dance of the Seven Veils from Salome - January 14th, 1939
Toscanini first conducted Salome in a bizarre competing premiere situation in 1906. Toscanini was originally to conduct the opera in Turin, during a brief period of estrangement from La Scala. When he returned to Milan he tried to bring the Salome premiere with him, but Strauss saw the opportunity to make more money out of the situation and agreed to conduct the Turin production himself. Salome ended up opening in Turin and Milan on the same night, with the Turin production being the "official" premiere. Strauss was initially very dismissive of Toscanini's work (based on the reports others had given him), but he evidently changed his mind when he finally saw Toscanini conduct. George Szell reported that Strauss had this to say about Toscanini: "When you see that man conduct, you feel that there is only one thing to do: take your baton, break it in pieces, and never conduct again."
This performance of the Dance of the Seven Veils is the only surviving record we have of Toscanini conducting a Strauss opera excerpt, and the only broadcast he gave of it at NBC. At turns exciting and languorous, Toscanini's performance builds with a deliberate sensuality that reflects a staged performance more than most of his concert performances of operatic excerpts. Unfortunately there are only so many veils Salome can legally remove in a staged public performance, and Toscanini ends with an orgiastic abandon that can only be effective in a concert hall. I'm sure Strauss would approve.
Beethoven: Symphony No. 5 - February 27th and March 29th, 1939
Wow, this performance is outstanding. Beethoven 5 is a piece I have never really heard played the way I would like to hear it done. Conductors of the old German school tended to make it too monumental and weighty, lacking in the electrifying spirit of Beethoven's revolutionary impulses. Other conductors have taken a very different path, arriving at extremes of dispassionate objectivity that somehow still manage to ignore Beethoven's markings in the pursuit of "textual fidelity".
Very, very few conductors really get it right. Probably the closest I have ever heard is the recording Cristoph von Dohnányi made with the Cleveland Orchestra in the mid-1980s. It combines like no other performance I have heard the crackling energy inherent to Beethoven with great beauty of phrasing and powerful orchestral sonority. Carlos Kleiber's 1970s recording with the Vienna Philharmonic also comes very close, but ultimately its tempos are a bit too slow to really let the music flow with the same intensity.
This Toscanini recording is not perfect, but it is probably the finest I have heard from his era. It has all the power of the great Furtwängler Beethoven recordings with a good deal more vitality and precision. The energy level is astounding. There are some problems of balance: the trombones can barely be heard in the last movement and the woodwind solos are not always played with adequate presence. Some of the aggressively short articulations Toscanini asks for are also suspect. But the overall potency of his conception is remarkable, and the orchestra responds with superb empathy. This is the first great recording Toscanini made with the NBC Symphony - for the first time orchestra and conductor really speak with the same voice.
Rossini: William Tell Overture - March 1st and 29th, 1939
Toscanini could get very defensive about the music he was playing when its artistic validity was called into question. When it was suggested that Rossini's William Tell overture was "cheap" Toscanini immediately snapped back "YOU try to write something so good."
William Tell may or may not be a masterpiece, but this story shows how important it was for Toscanini to play every piece in his repertoire as though it was - and this is a masterful performance. The introduction is superbly nuanced by the NBC cello section (Leonard Rose was still playing with NBC at this time) in a manner that is both emotive and delicate. This storm is a bit on the slow side, but the finale is astonishing in its energetic intensity. My generation no longer associates this music with The Lone Ranger and I admit I have never seen the show, but it is not difficult to see why William Tell would appeal so much to fans of westerns. I would saddle up right now, but I'm afraid I've got a martini party to attend.
Beethoven: Symphony No. 8 - April 17th, 1939
Rather like the Mozart symphony I listened to yesterday, this recording of Beethoven 8 is very different from what you usually hear. Unlike that Mozart recording, I find Toscanini's take on Beethoven 8 to be quite an acceptable alternative to what one usually hears. In fact, in some ways I prefer it to the norm.
I seem to be in the minority in that opinion. Even the author of the liner notes for the RCA CD notes the "coarse sonority" of this performance and writes that it "suggests less of the music's tongue-in-cheek wit, playful (at times even affectionate) mocking of 18th-century style and exploitation of orchestral color." This is true to some extent, but Toscanini's full-blooded symphonic take on this symphony could also be taken as a "missing link" between Beethoven's seventh and ninth symphonies. I can't say I can completely look past the lack of humor in this performance, but Toscanini's conception makes it possible to see this symphony in the context of Beethoven's work in ways I have not heard elsewhere.
Paganini: Moto Perpetuo - April 17th, 1939
This performance is The Possimpible.
For those of you who aren't fans of How I Met Your Mother, I should probably explain that The Possimpible is the place where the possible and the impossible meet.
There is no better way to describe this performance. What the NBC violin section does is impossible, and yet…there it is. Toscanini arranged this notorious showpiece so that the whole darned 1st violin section plays every note in unison: more than four minutes straight of sixteenth-note sawing away! You'll forget all about wanting to hear any of that solo violin crap!
Ultimately this recording must be considered a novelty and not much else. It is utterly astounding what Toscanini's brash young violinists were able to do with this piece, and it quite literally must be heard to be believed. Nonetheless I don't think I will ever feel any need to listen to this again unless I happen to get lock-jaw, for this recording will surely make a your jaw drop. Drop, that is, into the realm of The Possimpible.
............................................................................................................................................
That does it for Day 8. Tomorrow we move on to the first of Toscanini's recordings from his third season with NBC. The next two days will be all Beethoven, starting with maybe the greatest of all recordings of the Eroica Symphony.
Today's listening took me to two fabulous Beethoven symphonies, the theme from a classic Western, an operatic strip-tease, and the realm of The Possimpible. Let's get started!
Strauss: Dance of the Seven Veils from Salome - January 14th, 1939
Toscanini first conducted Salome in a bizarre competing premiere situation in 1906. Toscanini was originally to conduct the opera in Turin, during a brief period of estrangement from La Scala. When he returned to Milan he tried to bring the Salome premiere with him, but Strauss saw the opportunity to make more money out of the situation and agreed to conduct the Turin production himself. Salome ended up opening in Turin and Milan on the same night, with the Turin production being the "official" premiere. Strauss was initially very dismissive of Toscanini's work (based on the reports others had given him), but he evidently changed his mind when he finally saw Toscanini conduct. George Szell reported that Strauss had this to say about Toscanini: "When you see that man conduct, you feel that there is only one thing to do: take your baton, break it in pieces, and never conduct again."
This performance of the Dance of the Seven Veils is the only surviving record we have of Toscanini conducting a Strauss opera excerpt, and the only broadcast he gave of it at NBC. At turns exciting and languorous, Toscanini's performance builds with a deliberate sensuality that reflects a staged performance more than most of his concert performances of operatic excerpts. Unfortunately there are only so many veils Salome can legally remove in a staged public performance, and Toscanini ends with an orgiastic abandon that can only be effective in a concert hall. I'm sure Strauss would approve.
Beethoven: Symphony No. 5 - February 27th and March 29th, 1939
Wow, this performance is outstanding. Beethoven 5 is a piece I have never really heard played the way I would like to hear it done. Conductors of the old German school tended to make it too monumental and weighty, lacking in the electrifying spirit of Beethoven's revolutionary impulses. Other conductors have taken a very different path, arriving at extremes of dispassionate objectivity that somehow still manage to ignore Beethoven's markings in the pursuit of "textual fidelity".
Very, very few conductors really get it right. Probably the closest I have ever heard is the recording Cristoph von Dohnányi made with the Cleveland Orchestra in the mid-1980s. It combines like no other performance I have heard the crackling energy inherent to Beethoven with great beauty of phrasing and powerful orchestral sonority. Carlos Kleiber's 1970s recording with the Vienna Philharmonic also comes very close, but ultimately its tempos are a bit too slow to really let the music flow with the same intensity.
This Toscanini recording is not perfect, but it is probably the finest I have heard from his era. It has all the power of the great Furtwängler Beethoven recordings with a good deal more vitality and precision. The energy level is astounding. There are some problems of balance: the trombones can barely be heard in the last movement and the woodwind solos are not always played with adequate presence. Some of the aggressively short articulations Toscanini asks for are also suspect. But the overall potency of his conception is remarkable, and the orchestra responds with superb empathy. This is the first great recording Toscanini made with the NBC Symphony - for the first time orchestra and conductor really speak with the same voice.
Rossini: William Tell Overture - March 1st and 29th, 1939
Toscanini could get very defensive about the music he was playing when its artistic validity was called into question. When it was suggested that Rossini's William Tell overture was "cheap" Toscanini immediately snapped back "YOU try to write something so good."
William Tell may or may not be a masterpiece, but this story shows how important it was for Toscanini to play every piece in his repertoire as though it was - and this is a masterful performance. The introduction is superbly nuanced by the NBC cello section (Leonard Rose was still playing with NBC at this time) in a manner that is both emotive and delicate. This storm is a bit on the slow side, but the finale is astonishing in its energetic intensity. My generation no longer associates this music with The Lone Ranger and I admit I have never seen the show, but it is not difficult to see why William Tell would appeal so much to fans of westerns. I would saddle up right now, but I'm afraid I've got a martini party to attend.
Beethoven: Symphony No. 8 - April 17th, 1939
Rather like the Mozart symphony I listened to yesterday, this recording of Beethoven 8 is very different from what you usually hear. Unlike that Mozart recording, I find Toscanini's take on Beethoven 8 to be quite an acceptable alternative to what one usually hears. In fact, in some ways I prefer it to the norm.
I seem to be in the minority in that opinion. Even the author of the liner notes for the RCA CD notes the "coarse sonority" of this performance and writes that it "suggests less of the music's tongue-in-cheek wit, playful (at times even affectionate) mocking of 18th-century style and exploitation of orchestral color." This is true to some extent, but Toscanini's full-blooded symphonic take on this symphony could also be taken as a "missing link" between Beethoven's seventh and ninth symphonies. I can't say I can completely look past the lack of humor in this performance, but Toscanini's conception makes it possible to see this symphony in the context of Beethoven's work in ways I have not heard elsewhere.
Paganini: Moto Perpetuo - April 17th, 1939
This performance is The Possimpible.
For those of you who aren't fans of How I Met Your Mother, I should probably explain that The Possimpible is the place where the possible and the impossible meet.
There is no better way to describe this performance. What the NBC violin section does is impossible, and yet…there it is. Toscanini arranged this notorious showpiece so that the whole darned 1st violin section plays every note in unison: more than four minutes straight of sixteenth-note sawing away! You'll forget all about wanting to hear any of that solo violin crap!
Ultimately this recording must be considered a novelty and not much else. It is utterly astounding what Toscanini's brash young violinists were able to do with this piece, and it quite literally must be heard to be believed. Nonetheless I don't think I will ever feel any need to listen to this again unless I happen to get lock-jaw, for this recording will surely make a your jaw drop. Drop, that is, into the realm of The Possimpible.
............................................................................................................................................
That does it for Day 8. Tomorrow we move on to the first of Toscanini's recordings from his third season with NBC. The next two days will be all Beethoven, starting with maybe the greatest of all recordings of the Eroica Symphony.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Day 7: The classics should never be played like classics.
Welcome to Day 7! I can't believe I'm now a full week into the project. It's been great fun listening to these performances, but the writing really wore me out during the first few days. I feel like I'm starting to get into a groove now, and the finish-line doesn't seem so dauntingly far away as it did at the beginning of the month.
I broke the chronology a little bit to listen to all of Toscanini's BBC recordings as a set. Now we'll move backwards a bit to the recordings Toscanini made at the end of his first season with the NBC Symphony. On Christmas Night of 1937 Toscanini performed his first radio broadcast concert with his new orchestra. He went on to perform thirteen concerts that season in broadcasts that changed the American musical landscape. For the first time classical music was being heavily marketed in the mass media, and Toscanini was the figurehead of this new cultural entity.
Shortly after the last broadcast of the season Toscanini made his first commercial recordings with NBC in symphonies by Haydn and Mozart and two movements from Beethoven's String Quartet Op. 135. For some reason the Mozart recording was not completed until the following year, and I have yet to discover the reasons for this, nor have I found out which movements were recorded in which session. All I know is that some portion of the Mozart symphony was recorded on March 7th of 1938, and the Beethoven and Haydn works were recorded the next day.
Mozart: Symphony No. 40 - March 7th, 1938 and February 27th, 1939
This isn't your daddy's Mozart. This is an aggressive, angry-sounding Mozart that is worlds removed from what one typically hears. I don't, however, find this entirely inappropriate. As I mentioned in Day 2's discussion of the Haffner Symphony, I find the compulsively light and elegant performances of late-18th century music that now pass as "stylistic" to be both suffocating and wrong-headed. This was, of course, new music at the time it was written (a fact that seems bizarrely forgotten in modern performance practice) and Mozart was certainly not an elegant personality.
In the case of this recording, however, I find the aggression to be a bit misplaced. Only the last movement is fully successful in Toscanini's conception. The whirling lines Mozart writes for the strings move breathlessly forward with great power and lead to a shattering climax. The first three movements on the other hand simply sound as though they lack shading and subtlety. Although I like Toscanini's tempo for the slow movement, he seems to interpret the meter as a relentless six rather than a flowing two - the line has nowhere to go.
Mozart was never considered a Toscanini specialty, and he admitted so himself. "I will tell you frankly," he told B.H. Haggin, "I find Mozart boring. Not G Minor [the Symphony No. 40]: that is great tragedy, and not concerti, but other music. It is always beautiful - but is always the same." If Toscanini felt this way about Mozart's work as a whole, it should perhaps not be surprising that he would interpret one of the few pieces he really enjoyed in the way he did. I don't think he was wrong to interpret the Symphony No. 40 in this manner, but in trying to make it exciting he instead simply made it tense.
Beethoven: String Quartet No. 16, movements 3 and 2 - March 8th, 1938
In Toscanini's day it was quite common for full string orchestras to perform string quartets, or fragments from them. The Beethoven quartets in particular have been staples of the repertory of many conductors, from Mahler to Mitropolous to Bernstein. Toscanini considered the last five string quartets to be Beethoven's finest compositions, and it is not surprising that he would turn to them for his first recording sessions with the NBC Symphony. What is more surprising is the sound he produces from the NBC strings.
I never would have dreamed Toscanini would have made an effective conductor of hyper-romantic string works such as Verklärte Nacht or Webern's Langsamer Satz (pieces he never did remotely come close to considering performing), but the astonishingly atmospheric performance he gave of the slow movement of Beethoven's final string quartet has convinced me otherwise. Although the NBC string section was always considered to be very strong, I have yet to hear in any other Toscanini performance the kind of sumptuous sounds they produced in this glorious slow movement.
On the other hand the vivace movement sounds very uncomfortable and unwieldy when played by a full string orchestra. For this recording Toscanini reversed the order of the second and third movements of the string quartet, so that he would not end on a slow movement. This is understandable, but it sounds terribly awkward to go from the sublime Lento assai, cantante e tranquillo (that sounds so right when played by a full string orchestra) directly into the jaunty vivace movement. These Beethoven quartet movements make for some superb music-making, but cannot in every respect make for a satisfying listening experience.
Haydn: Symphony No. 88 - March 8th, 1938
The energy Toscanini brought to the Mozart Symphony No. 40 that was so misplaced is here channeled into a style that is much more appropriate to the Haydn Symphony No. 88. This is not the light and elegant, faux powdered-wig approach that infects so many modern performances of Haydn, but this time Toscanini keeps things tasteful. The energy he brings to this symphony enlivens what could otherwise (and oftentimes does) sound dreadfully dull, but he never goes overboard with explosive accents or aggressive sforzandos. Toscanini also shows great sensitivity in the right places; the slow movement is contoured in a way that is movingly operatic in its cantabile feeling for line and phrase. This symphony is not absolutely first-rate Haydn, but Toscanini performs it with beautiful purpose and conviction.
...............................................................................................................................................
After these sessions were completed Toscanini left for Israel to lead six concerts with the Palestine Symphony (the orchestra that was later to become the Israel Philharmonic). Upon his return to Italy his passport was confiscated and Cremona's fascist newspaper branded him an "honorary jew." An international uproar forced Mussolini to return the passport, and when Toscanini finally left Italy he realized it would be too dangerous for him to return until the odious fascist government had been overturned. From this point on his life would be principally based in the United States, and he would become the great cultural symbol of American life.
That's it for Day 7! Tomorrow I'll be going over the pieces Toscanini recorded during his second season with the NBC Symphony: two Beethoven symphonies, the William Tell Overture, Paganini's Moto Perpetuo, and the Dance of the Seven Veils from Salome. Have a great day, and I'll see you tomorrow!
I broke the chronology a little bit to listen to all of Toscanini's BBC recordings as a set. Now we'll move backwards a bit to the recordings Toscanini made at the end of his first season with the NBC Symphony. On Christmas Night of 1937 Toscanini performed his first radio broadcast concert with his new orchestra. He went on to perform thirteen concerts that season in broadcasts that changed the American musical landscape. For the first time classical music was being heavily marketed in the mass media, and Toscanini was the figurehead of this new cultural entity.
Shortly after the last broadcast of the season Toscanini made his first commercial recordings with NBC in symphonies by Haydn and Mozart and two movements from Beethoven's String Quartet Op. 135. For some reason the Mozart recording was not completed until the following year, and I have yet to discover the reasons for this, nor have I found out which movements were recorded in which session. All I know is that some portion of the Mozart symphony was recorded on March 7th of 1938, and the Beethoven and Haydn works were recorded the next day.
Mozart: Symphony No. 40 - March 7th, 1938 and February 27th, 1939
This isn't your daddy's Mozart. This is an aggressive, angry-sounding Mozart that is worlds removed from what one typically hears. I don't, however, find this entirely inappropriate. As I mentioned in Day 2's discussion of the Haffner Symphony, I find the compulsively light and elegant performances of late-18th century music that now pass as "stylistic" to be both suffocating and wrong-headed. This was, of course, new music at the time it was written (a fact that seems bizarrely forgotten in modern performance practice) and Mozart was certainly not an elegant personality.
In the case of this recording, however, I find the aggression to be a bit misplaced. Only the last movement is fully successful in Toscanini's conception. The whirling lines Mozart writes for the strings move breathlessly forward with great power and lead to a shattering climax. The first three movements on the other hand simply sound as though they lack shading and subtlety. Although I like Toscanini's tempo for the slow movement, he seems to interpret the meter as a relentless six rather than a flowing two - the line has nowhere to go.
Mozart was never considered a Toscanini specialty, and he admitted so himself. "I will tell you frankly," he told B.H. Haggin, "I find Mozart boring. Not G Minor [the Symphony No. 40]: that is great tragedy, and not concerti, but other music. It is always beautiful - but is always the same." If Toscanini felt this way about Mozart's work as a whole, it should perhaps not be surprising that he would interpret one of the few pieces he really enjoyed in the way he did. I don't think he was wrong to interpret the Symphony No. 40 in this manner, but in trying to make it exciting he instead simply made it tense.
Beethoven: String Quartet No. 16, movements 3 and 2 - March 8th, 1938
In Toscanini's day it was quite common for full string orchestras to perform string quartets, or fragments from them. The Beethoven quartets in particular have been staples of the repertory of many conductors, from Mahler to Mitropolous to Bernstein. Toscanini considered the last five string quartets to be Beethoven's finest compositions, and it is not surprising that he would turn to them for his first recording sessions with the NBC Symphony. What is more surprising is the sound he produces from the NBC strings.
I never would have dreamed Toscanini would have made an effective conductor of hyper-romantic string works such as Verklärte Nacht or Webern's Langsamer Satz (pieces he never did remotely come close to considering performing), but the astonishingly atmospheric performance he gave of the slow movement of Beethoven's final string quartet has convinced me otherwise. Although the NBC string section was always considered to be very strong, I have yet to hear in any other Toscanini performance the kind of sumptuous sounds they produced in this glorious slow movement.
On the other hand the vivace movement sounds very uncomfortable and unwieldy when played by a full string orchestra. For this recording Toscanini reversed the order of the second and third movements of the string quartet, so that he would not end on a slow movement. This is understandable, but it sounds terribly awkward to go from the sublime Lento assai, cantante e tranquillo (that sounds so right when played by a full string orchestra) directly into the jaunty vivace movement. These Beethoven quartet movements make for some superb music-making, but cannot in every respect make for a satisfying listening experience.
Haydn: Symphony No. 88 - March 8th, 1938
The energy Toscanini brought to the Mozart Symphony No. 40 that was so misplaced is here channeled into a style that is much more appropriate to the Haydn Symphony No. 88. This is not the light and elegant, faux powdered-wig approach that infects so many modern performances of Haydn, but this time Toscanini keeps things tasteful. The energy he brings to this symphony enlivens what could otherwise (and oftentimes does) sound dreadfully dull, but he never goes overboard with explosive accents or aggressive sforzandos. Toscanini also shows great sensitivity in the right places; the slow movement is contoured in a way that is movingly operatic in its cantabile feeling for line and phrase. This symphony is not absolutely first-rate Haydn, but Toscanini performs it with beautiful purpose and conviction.
...............................................................................................................................................
After these sessions were completed Toscanini left for Israel to lead six concerts with the Palestine Symphony (the orchestra that was later to become the Israel Philharmonic). Upon his return to Italy his passport was confiscated and Cremona's fascist newspaper branded him an "honorary jew." An international uproar forced Mussolini to return the passport, and when Toscanini finally left Italy he realized it would be too dangerous for him to return until the odious fascist government had been overturned. From this point on his life would be principally based in the United States, and he would become the great cultural symbol of American life.
That's it for Day 7! Tomorrow I'll be going over the pieces Toscanini recorded during his second season with the NBC Symphony: two Beethoven symphonies, the William Tell Overture, Paganini's Moto Perpetuo, and the Dance of the Seven Veils from Salome. Have a great day, and I'll see you tomorrow!
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