Nathan Milstein, der in München das Tschaikowsky-Konzert spielen sollte, musste erkrankt absagen. Columbia Artists schickte einen 21-jährigen Wunderknaben Pinchas Zukerman. Die Kritiker überschlugen sich. Joachim Kaiser scheute nicht den Vergleich mit Szeryng und Oistrach. Und noch Harald Eggebrecht spricht in seinem Buch „Große Geiger“ von einem „der sensationellsten Debüts in Deutschland nach dem Krieg“. Welche Untertreibung! Der auch klangtechnisch ausgezeichnete Mitschnitt des Bayerischen Rundfunks aus dem Herkulessaal ist eine Droge. Eine Droge, die ein bisschen traurig macht. Was ist bloß passiert in den vergangenen 33 Jahren? Warum wirken diese natürliche Kraft, die geradezu existentielle Unbedingtheit des Musizierens heute als ein solches Naturereignis? Wann hört man noch eine so riskante Hingabe an die Emotionalität der Musik?
Zukerman „macht“ gar nichts Spezielles, es stimmt nur einfach alles. Die Mehrstimmigkeit zu Beginn der Durchführung des 1. Satzes kommt mustergültig heraus. Die Übergänge sind schlüssig, die Kantilenen entfalten sich ohne Schmalz und falsche Süße. So sehr die Geige leuchtet, reibt und brummt, immer spürt man: Diese überirdische Schönheit ist einer fast vulkanischen Energie abgerungen: Vor allem in den Spiccato-Passagen dringt sie ungebärdig an die Oberfläche. Geigen-Aficionados werden sich an sensationellen Flageoletts erfreuen, an superintensiven Höhen und wuchtigen Akkorden. Übrigens: Rafael Kubelik und das – abgesehen von einer arg quäkenden Solo-Klarinette – fantastische Orchester begleiten genau und voller Verve – und liefern dann noch eine großartige Vierte.

Wenngleich der heute 54-jährige Pinchas Zukerman in den letzten Jahren...

Um eines von Gustav Mahlers großen Werken neu auf dem übersättigten...

Da dirigenten Rafael Kubelik (1914-1996) i 1961 tiltrådte stillingen som...

Es war ein Tscheche, der den Münchenern den Spätromantiker Gustav Mahler...

Ebenfalls gegen eine, berühmte Klemperer-Aufnahme tritt Kubelik mit dem acht...

Ces Symphonies sont extraites de deux concerts datant respectivement de 1979 et...

Kubelik et Beethoven se sont au moins rencontrés pour une «Missa solemnis» inoubliable (Orfeo) et pour des symphonies chez DG, gravées avec des orchestres différents le Philharmonique d’Israël pour la 4e et le Symphonique de Boston pour la 5e. En comparaison, ces concerts munichois déçoivent. L'Adagio qui ouvre la 4e sonne plus attentiste que mystérieux, le finale jamais ébroué compte les battements du métronome. Un orchestre atone, dont Kubelik ne laisse émerger aucun détail des bois ou des cuivres qui puisse pimenter le discours, ennuie; il lasse encore plus dans une 5e de bois, où à force de vouloir éviter toute grandiloquence, l'oeuvre se délite jusque dans un Allegro conclusif asséné à la prussienne, tenu, métrique, sans projection, avec çà et là quelques concessions au changement de tempo qui rendent le tout plus incohérent encore.

Some years ago I was involved in a discussion concerning Wilhelm Furtwängler's potential artistic heir. Who might he be? There was no lack of candidates. My suggestion, for the following reasons, was Rafael Kubelik. Both were composers; both preferred an old-fashioned orchestral layout (violins divided, etc) and achieved weight of sonority by allowing a chord to fall naturally rather than slamming it shut. Both favoured flexibility within the bar, an often orgiastic excitability and, most important in this particular context, an overall preference for live performance over recording.

For example, compare Kubelik's 1975 DG studio recording of Beethoven's Fourth Symphony with the Israel Philharmonic with the live Bavarian RSO Audite version of four years later. The IPO account is taut and incisive, with an explosive fortissimo just before the coda (at 5'52", i.e. bar 312) that sounds as if it has been aided from the control desk. Turn then to the BRSO version, the lead-up at around 4'25" to that same passage (here sounding wholly natural), so much more gripping, where second fiddles, violas and cellos thrust their responses to tremolando first fiddles. The energy level is still laudably high but the sense of intense engagement is almost palpable. Again, with the Boston recording of the Fifth, handsome and well played as it undoubtedly is (and with the finale's repeat intact, which isn't the case on Audite), there is little comparison with the freer, airier and more responsive live relay. I'm thinking especially the slow movement, so humble and expressive, almost hymn-like in places – for example, the Bachian string counterpoint from 4'27''. Also, the Boston recording places first and second violins on the left: the Audite option has them divided, as per Kubelik’s preferred norm.

Audite’s Tchaikovsky coupling is an out-and-out winner. Kubelik made two studio recordings of the Fourth Symphony (with the Chicago SO and Vienna PO), both set around a lyrical axis, but this live version has a unique emotive impetuosity, especially in the development section of the first movement. The Andantino relates a burning nostalgia without exaggeration, whereas the scherzo – taken at a real lick – becomes a quiet choir of balalaikas. The April 1969 performance of the Violin Concerto was also Pinchas Zukerman's German début and aside from Kubelik's facilitating responsiveness, there's the warmth and immediacy of the youthful Zukerman's tone and the precision of his bowing. Both performances confirm Kubelik as among the most sympathetic of Tchaikovsky conductors, a genuine listener who relates what he hears, not what he wants to confess through the music.

Much the same might be said of Kubelik's Mahler, whether for DG or the various live alternatives currently appearing on Audite. In the case of ‘Das Lied von der Erde’ there is no DG predecessor, but even if there was, I doubt that it would surpass the live relay of February 1970 with Waldemar Kmentt and Dame Janet Baker, so dashing, pliant and deeply felt, whether in the subtly traced clarinet counterpoint near the start of ‘Von der Jugend’ or the way Baker re-emerges after the funereal processional in ‘Der Abschied’, as if altered forever by a profound visitation.

Some years ago I was involved in a discussion concerning Wilhelm Furtwängler's potential artistic heir. Who might he be? There was no lack of candidates. My suggestion, for the following reasons, was Rafael Kubelik. Both were composers; both preferred an old-fashioned orchestral layout (violins divided, etc) and achieved weight of sonority by allowing a chord to fall naturally rather than slamming it shut. Both favoured flexibility within the bar, an often orgiastic excitability and, most important in this particular context, an overall preference for live performance over recording.

For example, compare Kubelik's 1975 DG studio recording of Beethoven's Fourth Symphony with the Israel Philharmonic with the live Bavarian RSO Audite version of four years later. The IPO account is taut and incisive, with an explosive fortissimo just before the coda (at 5'52", i.e. bar 312) that sounds as if it has been aided from the control desk. Turn then to the BRSO version, the lead-up at around 4'25" to that same passage (here sounding wholly natural), so much more gripping, where second fiddles, violas and cellos thrust their responses to tremolando first fiddles. The energy level is still laudably high but the sense of intense engagement is almost palpable. Again, with the Boston recording of the Fifth, handsome and well played as it undoubtedly is (and with the finale's repeat intact, which isn't the case on Audite), there is little comparison with the freer, airier and more responsive live relay. I'm thinking especially the slow movement, so humble and expressive, almost hymn-like in places – for example, the Bachian string counterpoint from 4'27''. Also, the Boston recording places first and second violins on the left: the Audite option has them divided, as per Kubelik’s preferred norm.

Audite’s Tchaikovsky coupling is an out-and-out winner. Kubelik made two studio recordings of the Fourth Symphony (with the Chicago SO and Vienna PO), both set around a lyrical axis, but this live version has a unique emotive impetuosity, especially in the development section of the first movement. The Andantino relates a burning nostalgia without exaggeration, whereas the scherzo – taken at a real lick – becomes a quiet choir of balalaikas. The April 1969 performance of the Violin Concerto was also Pinchas Zukerman's German début and aside from Kubelik's facilitating responsiveness, there's the warmth and immediacy of the youthful Zukerman's tone and the precision of his bowing. Both performances confirm Kubelik as among the most sympathetic of Tchaikovsky conductors, a genuine listener who relates what he hears, not what he wants to confess through the music.

Much the same might be said of Kubelik's Mahler, whether for DG or the various live alternatives currently appearing on Audite. In the case of ‘Das Lied von der Erde’ there is no DG predecessor, but even if there was, I doubt that it would surpass the live relay of February 1970 with Waldemar Kmentt and Dame Janet Baker, so dashing, pliant and deeply felt, whether in the subtly traced clarinet counterpoint near the start of ‘Von der Jugend’ or the way Baker re-emerges after the funereal processional in ‘Der Abschied’, as if altered forever by a profound visitation.