Franz Liszt A Faust Symphony, S. 108 – Mephisto Waltz No. 3, S. 216 Triptych of psychological portraits

‘What would the history of music look like if Goethe had not written his Faust dramas?’ It’s a good question, posed at the beginning of the liner notes to this new release, but the writer could equally have been asked where music would be without the phenomenon of Liszt. Wagner (and all the long shadows he cast) would have been impossible without the music of his father-in-law Liszt, and what might be called ‘Wagnerian’ harmonies (and Leitmotifs) make their presence strongly felt in the Faust Symphony, premiered under the composer’s own baton in Weimar in 1857.

Liszt’s connections with the city ran deep, so it is hardly surprising to hear how even today the Staatskapelle Weimar sounds steeped in his music. The orchestra’s former music director Kirill Karabits has immersed himself in Liszt too, also completing Alfred Reisenauer’s orchestration of the Mephisto Waltz No. 3 and recording it for the first time. In the Faust Symphony, he handles the sprawling and discursive first movement impressively, moving between rumination and headlong energy in this character sketch of Faust. Portraits of Gretchen (full of delicacy) and Mephistopheles follow, and the added apotheosis with male chorus and tenor soloist (Airam Hernández singing with heft) makes for a grandly affirmative ending.

Following his earlier recordings of Liszt’s Sardanapalo (2/19) and A Dante Symphony (4/20) for Audite, Kirill Karabits now turns his attention to the composer’s A Faust Symphony. In his review of the recording of Sardanapalo, Tim Ashley wrote that ‘Karabits conducts with extraordinary passion’, and the same is true of this latest entry in the series. With a running time of 68 minutes, Karabits’s account is one of the swifter performances on record, alongside those of Chailly, Muti and Sinopoli. By contrast, Bernstein takes 77 minutes.

Nevertheless, it’s Bernstein’s vividly characterised and impassioned interpretation that I’m most reminded of when listening to this new recording. The performance of the work’s opening has a compelling sense of mystery and anticipation, and the movement’s subsequent episodes are stirring and dramatic. In the movement’s gentler passages, as in the subsequent ‘Gretchen’ movement, the playing of the viola, oboe and other solo instruments is marvellously poetic, and textures are beautifully balanced and marvellously luminous. Both Bernstein and Karabits offer enormously exciting accounts of the work’s final movement but ultimately Karabits has the edge with his thrilling interpretation of the concluding ‘Chorus mysticus’, which combines an ardent contribution by tenor Airam Hernández with choral singing of extraordinary heft and incandescence.

It’s a pity that the booklet doesn’t include the text of the choral section given that it would take so little space. The booklet essay similarly makes no mention of the rarely heard orchestration of the Mephisto Waltz No 3 included on the album other than giving joint credit for the arrangement to Liszt pupil Alfred Reisenauer and Kirill Karabits. As with the symphony, however, the performance has tremendous panache, and the recording is well balanced and transparent even in the loudest tuttis. Very highly recommended.

‘What would the history of music look like if Goethe had not written his Faust dramas?’ It’s a good question, posed at the beginning of the liner notes to this new release, but the writer could equally have been asked where music would be without the phenomenon of Liszt. Wagner (and all the long shadows he cast) would have been impossible without the music of his father-in-law Liszt, and what might be called ‘Wagnerian’ harmonies (and Leitmotifs) make their presence strongly felt in the Faust Symphony, premiered under the composer’s own baton in Weimar in 1857.

Liszt’s connections with the city ran deep, so it is hardly surprising to hear how even today the Staatskapelle Weimar sounds steeped in his music. The orchestra’s former music director Kirill Karabits has immersed himself in Liszt too, also completing Alfred Reisenauer’s orchestration of the Mephisto Waltz No. 3 and recording it for the first time. In the Faust Symphony, he handles the sprawling and discursive first movement impressively, moving between rumination and headlong energy in this character sketch of Faust. Portraits of Gretchen (full of delicacy) and Mephistopheles follow, and the added apotheosis with male chorus and tenor soloist (Airam Hernández singing with heft) makes for a grandly affirmative ending.

Liszt's orchestral portraits of Faust, Marguerite and Mephistopheles positively leap off the page in this vital, richly characterised account of the Goethe-inspired symphony: the Weimar brass glow and growl in the opening movement depicting Faust's torment, principal oboe and viola are on eloquent form when portraying Marguerite's innocence, and the devilish scherzo is given with dazzling clarity. Boris Lyatoshinsky's 1955 symphonic poem Grazhyna (which Karabits has previously recorded in Bournemouth) looks like a non sequitur on paper, but the kinship with Liszt's soundworld is striking.

Following their recordings of Tasso, the Dante Symphony and the abandoned opera Sardanapalo, Karabits and the Weimar orchestra turn to a work which is closely associated with the city: the Faust Symphony was premiered in Weimar in September 1857, for the inauguration of the Goethe–Schiller Monument which stands in front of the Court Theater. It's followed here by another Goethe-inspired work, the Mephisto Waltz No. 3 (orchestrated by Liszt's disciple Alfred Reisenauer and Karabits himself).

Als Liszt die Leitung der Weimarer Hofoper antrat, setzte er sich intensiv mit Goethes Werk auseinander. Besonders das Faust-Thema fesselte ihn. Die Faust-Symphonie ist eigentlich nichts anderes als eine Folge von drei Tondichtungen zu den Themen Faust, Gretchen und Mephisto mit, als Zugabe, dem Chorus mysticus. Kirill Karabits hat die gleichen Rezepte für die drei Tondichtungen: resolutes Suchen nach dramatischen Abläufen, nach Programmpunkten, die an eine Handlung erinnern sollen, mit sämtlichen damit zusammenhängenden Motiven und Gefühlsmomenten.

Er wendet sich freilich nicht, wie es andere Dirigenten getan haben, vom Gedanklichen ab, um das Werk in einem opulenten, brillanten Klanggewand zu dramatisieren. Orchestrale Virtuosität ist zwar reichlich vorhanden und auch bewundernswert, aber sie wird nie zum Selbstzweck.

Sehr tief empfunden ist der Gretchen-Satz, und in der Mephisto-Tondichtung ist die Rhythmik regelrecht faszinierend. Sie ist die Grundlage, auf welcher der Dirigent seine Interpretation aufbaut, die ihm hilft, dämonische Kräfte zu entfesseln, den Geist, der stets verneint, hörbar werden zu lassen.

Das hervorragende Weimarer Orchester unterstützt Karabits dabei sehr gut. Der Tenor Peter Seiffert und die Herren des Senff-Chors leisten eine ebenfalls gute Arbeit.

Zwanzig Jahre trennen den berühmten Mephisto-Walzer Nr. 1 von drei weiteren Walzern aus den 1880er Jahren, den Mephisto-Walzern Nr. 2 (1881), Nr. 3 (1883), Nr. 4 (1885, unvollendet).

Den Mephisto-Walzer Nr. 3 widmete er der französischen Komponistin und Pianistin Marie Jaëll, die nach dem Tod ihres Mannes Alfred im Jahr 1882 Liszts Sekretärin wurde. Dieser dritte Mephisto-Walzer ist etwas weniger virtuos und gleichzeitig moderner, harmonisch kühner als die beiden ersten Walzer. Das wird in dieser Orchesterfassung sehr deutlich, die der Liszt-Schüler Alfred Reisenauer anfertigte, aber unvollendet ließ; sie wurde von Kirill Karabits vervollständigt und am 12. Juni 2022 von der Staatskapelle Weimar uraufgeführt.


ENGLISH TRANSLATION:

When Liszt took over as director of the Weimar Court Opera, he intensively studied Goethe’s work. He was particularly captivated by the Faust theme. The Faust Symphony is actually nothing more than a sequence of three tone poems on the themes of Faust, Gretchen and Mephisto with, as an encore, the Chorus mysticus. Kirill Karabits has the same recipes for the three tone poems: resolute search for dramatic sequences, for program points that should remind of a plot, with all motives and emotional moments connected with it.

He does not, of course, turn away from the thoughtful, as other conductors have done, in order to dramatize the work in an opulent, brilliant sound garb. Orchestral virtuosity abounds and is also admirable, but it never becomes an end in itself.

Very deeply felt is the Gretchen movement, and in the Mephisto tone poem the rhythm is downright fascinating. It is the foundation on which the conductor builds his interpretation, helping him to unleash demonic forces, to make audible the spirit that always denies.

The excellent Weimar orchestra supports Karabits very well. Tenor Peter Seiffert and the gentlemen of the Senff Choir also do a fine job.

Twenty years separate the famous Mephisto Waltz No. 1 from three other waltzes from the 1880s, Mephisto Waltzes No. 2 (1881), No. 3 (1883), No. 4 (1885, unfinished).

He dedicated the Mephisto Waltz No. 3 to the French composer and pianist Marie Jaëll, who became Liszt’s secretary after the death of her husband Alfred in 1882. This third Mephisto waltz is less virtuosic and at the same time more modern and harmonically bold than the first two waltzes. This is very evident in this orchestral version, which Liszt’s student Alfred Reisenauer made but left unfinished; it was completed by Kirill Karabits and premiered by the Staatskapelle Weimar on June 12, 2022.