Die Frau hat es sich in Erwartung einer ausgiebigen Fußmassage auf dem Sofa bequem gemacht. "Können wir eine andere Musik hören?", erkundigt sie sich. "Findest Du nicht, dass Hindemith als Massage-Musik taugt?", will der Mann wissen. Die Frau denkt einen Moment lang nach: "lch bin nicht mal sicher, ob Hindemith als Musik taugt." Diese Frage soll und muss hier nicht erörtert werden. Doch der Dialog demonstriert aufs Neue, wie sehr Musik von den Umständen abhängt, die sie begleiten. Schon deshalb ist diese CD ein bemerkenswertes Unterfangen. Sie versammelt lauter Stücke, die zwischen 1935 und 1941 entstanden sind – für eine Gattung obendrein, die alles andere als alltäglich ist, dem Duo aus Oboe (gespielt von Birgit Schmieder) und Klavier (Akiko Yamashita).

Nun ist die Versuchung groß, in den Werken nach Spiegelungen des eskalierenden Nazi-Terrors zu lauschen. Zumal ein Blick in die Biographie der Komponisten dieses Suchen bestätigt: Paul Hindemith ging ins amerikanische Exil, auch Benjamin Britten emigrierte für drei Jahre in die USA. Der griechische Schönberg-Schüler Nikos Skalkottas konnte zwar aus Deutschland nach Griechenland zurückkehren, wurde dort aber von den deutschen Besatzern verdächtigt, ein Widerstandskämpfer zu sein und schwer misshandelt. Kurz nach dem Kriegsende starb er. Der jüdische Komponist Pavel Haas wurde in Auschwitz ermordet.

Doch die Musik lässt sich nicht allein auf dieser Ebene hören und verstehen. Skalkottas' "Concertino for Solo Oboe and Piano Accompaniment" etwa beginnt zwar mit sperrigen, verstörenden Klängen, klingt aber in einem optimistischen Dur aus. Haas' "Suite for Oboe and Piano" ist von einer Traurigkeit durchdrungen, als hätte er eine Vorahnung seines Abtransports nach Theresienstadt zwei Jahre später gehabt – und mündet doch in eine beinahe sonnige Atmosphäre. Brittens "Two Insect Pieces" ist eine fröhliche, lebensnahe Naturstudie. Und bei Hindemith finden sich in der 1941 komponierten Sonate für Englischhorn und Piano Motive, die den Krieg nicht einmal in der Ferne ahnen lassen.

Und doch lässt er sich nicht verdrängen. Er offenbart sich in oft langen Passagen der Melancholie, die fast alle Stücke durchsetzen. Eine friedliche Stimmung gaukelt bisweilen auf der Oberfläche – trauen mag man ihr nicht. Und für diese Wirkung ist die Oboe das perfekte Instrument. Birgit Schmieder spielt sie wie ein Wolf im Schafspelz, mit einem genauen Gespür für die Schwere unter der Leichtigkeit, für die Angst in der Hoffnung. Akiko Yamashita am Klavier ist viel mehr als eine Begleiterin, gerade in Brittens titelgebenden "Zeit-Variationen" gibt sie Richtung und Weg vor.

Die Frau hat natürlich Recht. Das ist keine Begleitmusik für entspannte Momente. Sollte es bestimmt auch nie sein.

Audite's laudable exploration of the chamber music of Eduard Franck (1817-93)...

Heinrich Schütz hatte bei Giovanni Gabrieli das Prinzip der Mehrchörigkeit kennen gelernt, so wie es der Erste Organist von San Marco, die Architektur des Kirchenraums einbeziehend, praktizierte. Dem historischen Vorbild folgend nutzen die 'Cappella Murensis' und das Ensemble 'Les Cornets Noirs' in der vorliegenden Einspielung die Situation der vier Musikemporen der Klosterkirche Muri: In den zwei-, drei-und vierchörigen Werken verschmelzen Stimmen und Instrumente mit den vier Continuo-Orgeln zu einem einzigartigen Klang. Und so ist denn diese Surround-Produktion nicht nur musikalisch, sondern auch tontechnisch ein Genuss.

Johannes Brahms hat wunderbare Kammermusik für Klarinette geschrieben. Diese klanglich hervorragende SACD von Audite mit dem Trio a-moll für Klarinette, Cello und Klavier op. 114 und den beiden Sonaten für Klarinette und Klavier f-moll op. 120/1 und Es-dur op. 120/2 bietet diese drei Werke in sehr guten Interpretationen an. Hier wird konsequent und hochrangig musiziert, und wenn es auch ein bisschen an Fantasie fehlt, so bleiben die Interpretationen durch die enorme Präsenz der Musiker und durch die Aufnahmetechnik hörenswert.

The 28 cantatas here – plus one by Telemann, thought to be Bach's at the time of the recording – are a selection from a huge project which was intended to record the complete Bach series but achieved only 78 works. The project was devised by the post-war Berlin radio station Rundfunk im amerikanischen Sektor (RlAS) and, through reaching a large radio audience was a very significant milestone in the rebirth of musical awareness in post-war Germany. The extent to which defeated, occupied and soon-to-be-divided Germany was physically smashed and demoralised in 1945 is outlined in some detail by Habakuk Traber in the booklet, while Rüdiger Albrecht gives more specific details about the series itself, its beginnings in 1946 and premature end in 1953 with the departure of Karl Ristenpart to take up the direction of the Saarland Radio Orchestra.

To all this can be added some relevant technical detail. All the recordings here were made in the twentieth-century Jesus-Christus-Kirche, Berlin-Dahlem, on magnetic tape. Tape recording was of good and consistent quality in Germany even by 1945; so much so that the BBC was still using captured German tape machines as late as 1952. In West Germany there was a much earlier move to FM radio than elsewhere in Europe, largely because of the poor allocation of AM channels to the whole country by the Copenhagen agreement of 1950. Many of the early recordings were re-made as the quality of the tapes improved, because the faults in the older ones became more obvious on FM radio. A noticeable improvement in quality can be heard in this selection which, by 1950 – the Bach bicentenary year – became at least comparable with commercial recordings of the period. During that year 21 of these 28 Bach recordings were made.

The first impression – and it is one that will surprise those who have been persuaded by exaggerated claims for "period" performances is of the relative modernity of the instrumental playing and (to a lesser extent) of the choral singing. The scale of these performances is very much as it would now be but, of course, there are no period instruments. Except for odd moments from the solo singers there is an absence of unwelcome overt "expressiveness". From the instrumentalists there is remarkable, adroit and attractive playing. The many obbligato soloists in the arias give great pleasure. There is the very occasional disaster, as with the solo trumpet which descants the final chorus of No. 31 and is painfully out of tune.

Mention of trumpet playing – elsewhere never less than adequate – brings me to the choral singing. In both there is a tendency to "punch out" fast semiquavers note by note with the chorus aspirating every one of them, although there are not many such passages. Another anachronism is the use of a harpsichord in the basso continuo. By the end of the 1950s this had been banished in sacred music by a chamber or positive organ.

Among the soloists there are some outstanding singers who went on to international careers. The focused and very spiritual voice of Agnes Giebel (Nos. 47, 32, 108, 52, 79, 202) is perhaps the finest among the sopranos but Gunthild Weber – less consistent – is also often memorable (Nos. 58, 76, 199, 164, 140). Ingrid Lorenzsen, who takes many of the alto solos sometimes sings with the kind of vibrato that now sounds anachronistic in Bach. All the tenor roles are taken by Helmut Krebs, whose effortless, articulate voice seems ideal for this music. Some of his numbers are extremely challenging, none more so than the aria "Hasse nur, hasse mich recht" in No. 76 where even he resorts to aspirating the swirling melismatic passages. Finally – and for some his presence will be decisive – there is much characterful and meaningful singing from the young Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, whose first commercial recordings coincided with this collection. From April 1950 comes Cantata No. 37 from which the recitative and aria "Ihr Sterblichen ... Der Glaube schafft der Seele Flügel" stands as an arresting exemplar of the quality of Fischer-Dieskau's early style.

One cannot hear these performances without sometimes reflecting on the straitened and austere environment out of which they sprang in ruined post-war Germany. Never more is this so than in No. 21, Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis, recorded in the early summer of 1950. From the opening Sinfonia (Adagio assai) to the final chorus with its resplendent trumpets and drums we follow the despairing soul down into the abyss. Through the central Christian notion of its union with God the journey then leads through the motet-like chorus "Sei nun wieder zufrieden" to final joy.

Among the other works it is often the betterknown that leave the most Iasting impression. No. 140, Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme has the RIAS boys' chorus singing its cantus firmus followed by Helmut Krebs's exultant recitative beginning "Er kommt". No. 79 is also notable for its (splendidly recorded) opening chorus in a style close to Händel and the direct simplicity of Lorri Lail's alto aria with flute obbligato that follows it.

Throughout the series we are aware that we are listening to history as well as to music. The ultimate hero of the project is surely Karl Ristenpart himself, whose later work with the Saarland Chamber Orchestra brought excitement and quality to the label Club Français du Disque and also deserves to be heard again.

In recent years, Audite has released a series of recordings featuring the...

Born into a wealthy cultivated German family, Eduard Franck (1817-1893) showed...

In Berlin nach dem 2. Weltkrieg wuchs mit dem 1946 gegründeten...

After the second world war, Klemperer never resumed the central place in Berlin's artistic life that he had held when Director of the Kroll Opera House between 1927 and 1931. His late career was centred more on London, Amsterdam, Vienna and Budapest rather than Berlin. Klemperer conducted the Berlin Philharmonic for a few engagements in the 1950s, but his main Berlin appearances during that decade were with the RIAS Symphony Orchestra (later called the Radio-Symphonie-Orchester Berlin and now known as the Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin). Audite have conveniently brought together the surviving recorded evidence of this partnership, mainly devoted to the classical repertoire. Almost everything Klemperer performed with Berlin Radio forces is included except for the Clock Symphony, which preceded the live 1956 account of Mahler's Fourth Symphony: the tape of the Haydn was scrubbed. Live performances (some with applause) are interspersed with studio accounts. The performances are edited from the original RIAS tapes (nowadays Deutschlandradio Kultur). Some of these recordings have been released previously, but this set is superior in all respects to earlier releases.

The second volume of Peter Heyworth's biography of Klemperer (Otto Klemperer – his life and times, Cambridge University Press, 1996), which has detailed information on the conductor's concert appearances, barely mentions these performances. The implication is that the Berlin outings were minor affairs within the totality of Klemperer's post-war career. A different perspective is offered in Habakuk Traber's booklet notes. These provide a detailed interpretative commentary on the performances, concluding that they "surely rank amongst the most important documents of cultural rebuilding in post-war Germany." These opposing positions are, to my mind, both incorrect. The performances were worth issuing because they illuminate Klemperer's conducting practice in his core repertoire. This suggests that Heyworth was remiss in giving them short shrift. On the other hand, Traber's case is one of special pleading. While the recordings are musically valuable, they can hardly be said to occupy the cultural position he ascribes to them.

The Mozart recordings were all made within a few days in late 1950. They document Klemperer's first encounter with the RIAS Symphony Orchestra. Listeners expecting to hear the conductor's late monumental style and steady pacing in these works will be surprised at the swiftness of some tempi. The main Allegro of the Don Giovanni overture and the first movement of the Prague Symphony, for example, are both bracing. All the Mozart performances are strongly led, but Symphony No. 29 is less ebullient than one usually hears today and the strings of the Serenata notturna compete with booming timpani. In these performances, one senses thar Klemperer and the orchestra have just become musically acquainted. The strings play with keen, precise articulation and contrapuntal passages are deftly handled; but the overall ensemble is not as polished as one remembers from the orchestra's recordings with its then music director, Ferenc Fricsay. The steely sound of the tuttis is wearing on the ears, though the recordings capture a wide dynamic range.

The three Beethoven symphonies are all live recordings. They are similar in conception to Klemperer's various other accounts of these works. The Second Symphony proceeds boldly, with careful attention to wind solos that often take a thematic lead in this work. The Eroica is suitably weighty, grave, and structurally cogent. In the "Marcia funebre", the orchestra seems to be playing slighty quicker than Klemperer's beat and, as the booklet note points out, the ensemble becomes slightly ragged. The finale is classically cogent and Klemperer eschews playing the variations as a virtuous showpiece, much to the music's advantage. The Pastoral is gently bucolic in the first two movements. Klemperer then whips up a dramatic storm followed by an energetic rather than a serene finale. Though they make for interesting listening, none of the Beethoven performances is truly outstanding and the conductor's credentials in these symphonies are better displayed in his Philharmonia studio recordings.

The soloist in Beethoven's Third Piano Concerto is Hans-Erich Riebensahm, a Berlin-based pianist, teacher and Schnabel pupil, whom some listeners may recall from his LP of Beethoven's Pathétique and Appassionata sonatas (Opera 1174). The booklet note supplies no information about him, which is an oversight given his low profile among recording artists. His performance of the Beethoven is certainly worth hearing. He is in accord with Klemperer's spacious tempi in the first movement and delivers a forthright cadenza, which is marred by a few wrong and smudged notes. In the second movement Riebensahm offers a hushed, intimate reading, and carefully shades his arpeggios to allow the flute and bassoon to project their solos. In the finale, he plays lyrically while Klemperer's accompaniment is somewhat abrupt, but this is not problematic because Beethoven's music partly suggests such a tension between the solo part and the tuttis.

Works by Hindemith and Mahler complete these discs. Klemperer of course knew both composers and also led premieres of their compositions. He preferred Hindemith's earlier works and felt an affinity with the ballet suite Nobilissima Visione. This performance of February 1954 is something of a dry run for Klemperer's Philharmonia recording of the work some eight months later. The serious and reflective string sonorities of the Hindemith are well projected in this Berlin performance, along with delicate woodwind playing in the second movement and confident brass chords in the finale. Klemperer was clearly attuned to the restrained warmth and orchestral invention of one of Hindemith's stronger pieces. Mahler Fourth is a suitably classically conceived interpretation of a work that Klemperer programmed frequently. Wistful passages of nostalgic playing are found in the first movement; bitter irony, conveyed through the retuned solo violin, dominates the second movement; the third movement flows peacefully. Despite the soprano's lack-Iustre singing in the finale, this is a well-proportioned, steady and idiomatic performance that provides an appropriate capstone to these recordings.

This new complete series of Grieg's orchestral music is building into a really excellent one. In the past, although there has been only one integral recording of Grieg's concert music by a Norwegian orchestra – the Bergen Philharmonic under Ole Kristian Ruud for BIS; and a really fine one it is, too (although I should confess I was responsible for its concept) – it is rare to hear this composer's music from a German orchestra. In this instance, Eivind Aadland is proving himself to be a major interpreter of his countryman's music.

Here, on Volume 2 of this projected five-disc set (I reviewed the first volume in the July/August issue), we have Grieg's complete music for string orchestra, with the exception of 'The Death of Åse' (from Peer Gynt), which has already appeared on Volume 1 (in the first Suite taken from the play's incidental music). As has become something of the norm in relatively recent years, it is encouraging to hear this music played by full string strength, rather than the chamber-musical number of players which so often used to be the case in recordings made from about 1970-2000.

Any doubts that might remain as to the 'authenticity' of the performances in the choice of a German orchestra are set at nought under Aadland's direction: as with Volume 1, he has clearly gone from first principles, and the results are enormously impressive. Indeed, in some respects they are rather more than that, for in the second of the utterly delightful Two Nordic Melodies, Op. 63 (the 'Cowkeeper's Tune and Country Dance', as they were once known in English-speaking countries), Aadland gets the opening gesture of the 'Country Dance' to be played without vibrato, imitating the natural sound of the Norwegian folk instrument, the Hardanger fiddle, as if tuning-up prior to the Dance itself. The result is utterly entrancing, a small but by no means insignificant aspect of this conductor's love for and desire to communicate this totally originaI music. We may hear a similar effect in the 'Norwegian' melody, the first of two from Op. 53; if anyone questions the 'rightness' of this, one may reply that Grieg, in the early 1890s and about the time of his fiftieth birthday, went by horse and cart around Norway collecting folk songs, a full ten years before the English folk-song movement began in this country, and at a time in Grieg's life when – an international figure – he had no need to do so.

By such modern interpretative means as we have noted, Aadland reveals the heart of this music in a completely new yet totally convincing manner. Another of his qualities is his insistence on giving each note its full length, which, in Grieg's slow string music, adds greatly to the expressive nature of these interpretations. Aadland is at all times unerring in adhering to the composer's demands in matters of phrasing and of internal string tone: the result is a most admirable recording, with the very familiar Holberg Suite being particularly pleasing; the conductor's tempos are excellent and all repeats are correctly observed.

The accompanying notes are also good and the recording quality is first-class, but it is odd to see a booklet in which the composer's dates are nowhere to be found. Nonetheless, this is a most impressive disc.