Neu ist an der folgenden Aufnahme zweierlei: Erstens ist mir der Name der...

A fine recording of an esoteric composer, recently unearthed in...

Sind die Lyrischen Stücke von Edvard Grieg Salonmusik? Jedenfalls stehen sie...

Grieg's Lyric Pieces lend themselves to a wide variety of approaches, from the...

Worth a strong recommendation for Brahms A minor alone and the Dessoff is immediately and lastingly enjoyable ...

I am, reluctantly, convinced of the merits of the Brahms String Quartet in A minor op.51, no.2. I just have yet to be touched, charmed or moved by it. I’ve tried to let the Emerson and the Takács Quartets do that for me, but they only offered excellence, not grit or inescapable passion. Three’s a charm though, and the third recording of the A minor quartet I’ve come across this year may have done it for me.

When Brahms develops a 35 minute quartet out of just a few basic musical building blocks, the result is - or can be - an expressive stringency of which Hugo Wolf declared Brahms the “undisputed master of composing without ideas”. Even Britten quipped that it wasn’t bad Brahms that he minded, but good Brahms that he couldn’t stand.

Usually I’d snicker with delighted, if embarrassed agreement – at least where Brahms’ string quartets are concerned. But the combination of cohesion and energy of the Mandelring Quartett (who played Brahms at the Library of Congress in 2006) makes for an unusually compelling, indeed spellbinding performance. Brahms, for once, seems successfully to reach the pinnacle of a composer’s ambition that is the string quartet with op.51/2. This is a string quartet that fascinated Schoenberg for its economy of means and made him famously declare Brahms ‘a progressive’. I will have to explore the other two volumes of their Brahms traversal – made only more attractive by their inclusion of string quartets of (forgotten) contemporaries of Brahms. If ever issued as a set – hopefully retaining the ‘fillers’ – it might well vie for the reference recording spot with the Alban Berg Quartet’s EMI recording.

This disc is worth a strong recommendation for the Brahms A minor alone. But there is more. Rather than point out that the ‘filler’ on the Brahms is “this neat, unknown F.O. Dessoff”, the performance and the quartet deserve to be mentioned, praised, and recommended separately. In fact, I’d give this disc the same two thumbs up even if it only included either of the two quartets.

That’s not only because the playing is outstanding but also because Dessoff’s op.7 is much more than just an afterthought to the Brahms quartet. It’s a wonderful work that deserves to be smack-dab in the middle of the string quartet repertoire of more groups than just the Mandelring. Brahms himself, a friend of Dessoff’s, found to have “such an unassuming face that one hardly dare praise it out loud … It would greatly please me to have my name printed on the front page of this quartet that is amiable smiling at me …”.

Holger Best’s liner-notes mention that Dessoff did not want to sully his reputation as a great performer with a second-rate composition. He need not have worried in this case. The F major quartet smiles amiably, indeed. All four movements are ear-catching, a joy to listen to, unpretentious, simple but not simplistic, full of joy but not silly.

What makes it so immediately and lastingly enjoyable is perhaps that skilled but still not so very seriously well crafted Brahms element in it, or the fact that it is perfectly romantic without being burdened with dreamy portentousness - Schumann, some may say.

The delicate pizzicato theme running through the opening Larghetto merges with beautiful lyrical lines for an exquisite slow movement. The Poco andantino has Viennese café-house mood and gaiety running through its veins … and that from a cool northern German! The outer movements, a driving Allegro ben moderato and a busy Allegro con brio have less of a personal touch to them but are more than adequate opening and closing statements. What else did this Dessoff compose?

Quite why it took nine years for this disc to be released I do not know.

Einen interessanten Querschnitt von Bizets „Carmen“ hat Ferenc Fricsay 1951...

Mit einer Doppel-SACD schließt das Detmolder Label audite seine nunmehr achtteilige Eduard Franck-Reihe fürs Erste ab. Zumindest auf dem CD-Markt ist der Mendelssohn-Schüler, der in Köln, Bern und bis zu seinem Tod 1893 dann in Berlin lehrte und komponierte, wieder angemessen vertreten. Auch die vier größtenteils in den Jahren um 1860 entstandenen Violinsonaten sind eine willkommene Bereicherung des Repertoires. Der Einfluss Beethovens und Mendelssohns ist unüberhörbar, und auch formal ging Franck bewährte Wege. Der thematische Erfindungsreichtum und die kunstvolle motivische Arbeit geben den Werken aber ein eigenes Gepräge – es ist schlichtweg schöne, geigerisch effektvolle Musik, engagiert vorgetragen vom Franck-bewährten Duo Edinger/Tocco.

The interesting thing on this CD is the Stravinsky, a composer we do not readily associate with Böhm, and one that actually, at least in my mind, represents a pole of antipathy to the type of music he excelled at. This is a fairly early recording (1963), and is the only one I have come across that has this particular composer-conductor combination. (Any intrepid Fanfare reader that knows of another, please write. There may be some broadcast performances lurking out there.) I don’t know the ins and outs of Böhm’s interest in Stravinsky (and when will we get a good biography of the conductor?) but I would like to hear some of the history, as this Firebird is simply delightful. We do know that he supported Stravinsky; he conducted Le chant du rossignol in Munich in 1923, and gave the German premiere of Jeux de cartes. But there were never any studio recordings. Böhm jumps in with both feet first and never looks back. I would have liked to hear the 1947 version instead, but will take what I can get. The recording does show its age—these are not stellar sonics, stereo though they are, but any concern regarding sound is dissipated rapidly because of the uniqueness of this recording to Böhm’s discography.

Mozart and Strauss form a different tale, Böhm-fodder if ever there was any. His Mozart has long been considered a staple of his repertoire, and his way of doing Mozart has been taken in years past as the way of doing it. Böhm approached Mozart not unlike the way he approached Strauss, with a sense of form and lyricism in his mind foremost, and tried to bring out the inherent drama in the music, especially with considered attention given to the melodic line. Bruno Walter gave Böhm the philosophical basis for his Mozart-methodology, and first brought the composer alive for him. But Böhm must also have been well aware of the relationship between the music of Mozart and Strauss, and of the highest regard Strauss held for the Salzburg composer. This Symphony No. 28, recorded only by Böhm in the context of his complete set of the symphonies in 1969, is here selected from a radio broadcast in 1973, and is a wonder, the medium-sized orchestra still valiantly trumpeting style and substance over the emerging period dogma by Harnoncourt and others at the time.

Strauss is, of course, bread and butter to this conductor. The two hit it off famously, and Böhm was in essence a collaborator with his mentor in Dresden for the details and structure of the later operas. Though 30 years his senior, Strauss relied heavily on the advice of the younger man, and in return helped him to firmly establish his artistic legacy at Dresden, by then the definitive place to hear the composer’s music. This 1976 Don Juan , sounding really fine in this transfer, is I believe the fourth recording the conductor made of this music, though I can’t really term a radio broadcast a recording as such. But it is certainly competitive with any of the others, and the interest peaks even higher because of this orchestra. Audite has given us a fine, and in many ways important addition to the Böhm discography. Warmly recommended.

Ein großes Verdienst des Labels audite ist der Einsatz für die Kompositionen...

S'ouvrant sur un thème initial d'une indicible grandeur, la Septième Symphonie (1881 1883) de Bruckner possede une monumentalité plus directe que ses voisines. Ce fut, après sa création triomphale le 30 décembre 1884 à Leipzig, la prèmiere œuvre de Bruckner a avoir suscite d'emblée l'adhesion universelle.

Interprète d'élection de cette œuvre avec Jochum, Furtwängler, Van Beinum et Karajan, Karl Böhm en a laisse plusieurs enregistrements de premier ordre, dont un, célèbre, en 1976, avec les Wiener Philharmoniker (DG). Enregistré par la Radio bavaroise l’année suivante, le présent témoignage s'impose par une tension qui repose sur une assise exceptionnelle des basses. Si l'importance des voix intermédiaires met en avant quelques rugosités très allemandes, tout est puissamment intègre dans cette direction ou la musique est saisie dans sa globalité. Cette interprétation préfère a la mystique d'un Jochum déjà perdu dans l'extase de l'au delà une vision plus humaine et dramatique. Böhm s'appuie sur des tempos plutôt enlevés – excepte dans un « Adagio » à la pulsation profonde –, sur un phrase souple et expressif et sur une articulation et des contrastes parfaitement observés. Les amateurs de stricte objectivité ne trouveront pas leur compte dans cette vision engagée, impérieuse et abrupte, mais qui s'identifie en profondeur a la mélancolie lyrique de l'œuvre.