Celibidache, famously, was the conductor who didn’t make recordings; he was long a cult figure, though since he died in 1996 he has been, if anything, overexposed through reissued broadcasts. This collection has particular interest, both historical and musical. Celibidache conducted the Berlin Philharmonic from 1945, when Furtwangler was banished, to the beginning of Karajan’s tenure in 1952. It was still very much Furtwangler’s orchestra, though some things had changed, as a glance at the contents indicates: this is music banned by the Nazis and so new to Berlin audiences in 1948-50. (The three pieces by Heinz Tiessen, Celibidache’s teacher, were recorded for the RIAS in 1957). Celibidache was, like Furtwangler, a fundamentally subjective artist. In these early performances, the personal seems less significant than the social as the orchestra rejoices in the new liberal era. The Rhapsody in Blue is performed in the best sleazy-jazz Berlin manner reminiscent of Klemperer’s Three-penny Opera suite of an earlier day. By contrast the Hindemith seems mere cacophony as the spirit of the composer proves more elusive. The Tiessen works are middle-brow Teutonism that leaves one wondering what he could have done to run afoul of the Nazis. Reinhard Schwarz-Schilling’s piece is a pleasing homage to Bach; the Busoni concerto can be heard to much better advantage elsewhere. Harald Genzmer’s Flute Concerto is a neoclassical gem of the first water: I would very much like to hear more from this composer. The outstanding performance is Copland’s Appalachian Spring. Here one relishes the meditative qualities that made Celibidache a cult figure and an elfin grace and lightness that quite lift the spirit out of the body. Presumably this has more to do with the conductor’s relish for Buddhism than any feeling for Americana, but whatever the source, his gift for simplicity proves abundant. Anyone with a serious interest in Celibidache should seek this out. Audite’s production is first-rate, a far cry from the dismal pirated LPs where we first encountered Celibidache in the West. The orchestra is splendid. The conductor, the repertoire, and the epoch make this a historical reissue worthy of particular notice.

Does there still need to be special pleading for Grieg’s orchestral music? He has a clutch of ardent champions on record and, if anyone is still unconverted to the depth and worth of this music, Eivind Aadland and his Cologne forces are set to change their minds. This is a hugely enjoyable first volume in what promises to be an excellent survey.

Fine performances of familiar and less-familiar music are the hallmarks of these...

[...] After the Second World War, initially while Furtwängler was being de-Nazified, a brilliant young Romanian by the name of Sergiu Celibidache was a popular principal conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic. Audite’s collection of his Berlin broadcasts (1948–1957), which are shared between the Berlin Philharmonic and Berlin RIAS orchestras, includes one or two surprises. What isn’t surprising is the distant drone of Berlin Airlift Dakotas that registers during the first CD (1948–49), which includes striking performances of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue (broadly paced and grandly played by Gerhard Puchelt), Ravel’s Rapsodie espagnole (full of dramatic contrasts in tone and tempo), Busoni’s Violin Concerto (with BPO concertmaster Siegfried Borries, a very earnest reading) and a fiery, Furtwänglerian account of Cherubini’s Anacréon Overture. Puchelt returns in the second disc for a superb reading of Hindemith’s often delicate Piano Concerto and Gustav Scheck is the accomplished soloist in Harald Genzmer’s wartime Flute Concerto, which echoes Hindemith’s distinctive style. Celi and the BPO offer a sensitive and surprisingly idiomatic account of Copland’s Appalachian Spring suite (you could easily be listening to, say, Mitropoulos and the New York Phil) and the last CD is mostly given over to music by Celibidache’s composition teacher Heinz Tiessen. His Second Symphony includes much that is both dramatic and musically memorable, especially the second movement, one of the set’s interpretative highlights. Tiessen’s Hamlet-Suite (with a “Totenmarsch” that seems to anticipate Kurt Weill) and Salambo-Suite are also included, as is the world premiere of Reinhard Schwarz-Schilling’s rigorous Introduction and Fugue for string orchestra. The sound is good and well-refurbished throughout (mastertapes were available). Audite has provided us with valuable insights into both the youthful art of a rostrum giant and the byways of German music in the early to mid-20th century.

Born in Vienna in 1904, Erica Morini started her career as a spectacular child violin prodigy. At the age of eight, she became the Vienna Music Academy’s youngest and first female student. Her 1916 Vienna debut in the Paganini Concerto was a sensation; her first American tour in 1920 included an appearance with the New York Philharmonic. Yet, though regarded as one of the finest violinists of her day, she became famous less as an artist than as the first woman violinist with a successful international career, an injustice she deplored and resented. She died in New York in 1995.

As her playing on this live 1952 recording shows, Morini's tone was singularly beautiful: pure and silken, with a focused vibrato, variable in color and intensity, and unfailingly expressive. Her technique was effortless and brilliant, her intonation impeccable—she never let her facility run away with her. An eloquent musician and distinctive personality, she combined a fiery temperament with sophistication, earthy robustness with tenderness and delicacy. The Tchaikovsky is lush, with many juicy slides, and very free: big tempo changes underline shifts of mood and character. Here, the orchestral sound is raucous and loud, and even Morini’s own is scratchy sometimes. Stylistically a child of her time, she makes the Baroque works equally romantic, but gives the virtuoso pieces irresistible charm.

Unfortunately, she made few records, which may explain why she is not as well known as she deserves. But these recordings showcase her many gifts.

A chill in the air, crackling leaves, and a roaring fireplace put me in mind of...

Ferenc Fricsay (1914–63) was a master of many musical styles but brought...

Audite has also issued Kirsten Flagstad: Richard Wagner and Richard Strauss,...

Audite has released Hans Knappertsbusch: The Complete RIAS Recordings, a...

Igor Stravinsky set Persephone (1933, revised 1949) to a French text by poet Andre Gide, which was in turn based on the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. The partnership of composer and librettist was not smooth, mainly because the two disagreed on how to set Gide’s text to music. Gide skipped the premiere, while Stravinsky went on to make two rather indifferent recordings of the work. Even today, Persephone lurks on the sidelines of his canon. For that and other reasons, the present recording is a fascinating document. Fritz Wunderlich was one of the greatest German tenors before falling down some stairs to his death six years after this performance. This would be his only performance of Eumolpius (Greek for “he who sings beautifully”), and it caught him at the height of his powers. Doris Schade was, and is, as far as I know, a highly respected German actress. Dean Dixon was an American conductor driven by American racism to make a career in Europe. At the time of this performance, he was ending his tenure as Music Director of the Gothenburg Symphony and preparing to take over the Hessian Radio Symphony (Frankfurt Radio). His appointment was resented in some quarters, but this Persephone was so well received that any serious opposition was neutralized. Dixon remained Music Director until 1974. The major recordings of Persephone are from Michael Tilson Thomas, Robert Craft, and Kent Nagano, with Thomas getting the nod in our Stravinsky Overview, Craft a strong second, and Nagano a too soft-textured third. (We don’t recommend either of the slower Stravinskys.) All are played in a more or less French style, and all tend to project the work as an airy, refined, and classical exercise. Dixon’s take is very different. It does not sound French in any way. In fact, the text is delivered entirely in German, which lends the music earthiness and a powerful dramatic backbone. (It was not unusual for Europeans of that time to perform foreign works—and dub foreign movies—in their native languages.) The German orchestra adds Teutonic flavors of broader brass and woodwind attacks, fuller string textures, and less pungent harmonies. There is also less bounce to the rhythm, less arch to upper melodic leaps, and more melodic lyricism. The choruses sound broad and warm, save for a bit of attractive boisterousness from the children. Wunderlich’s Eumolpius is heroic, sympathetic, and to some extent larger than life. I would expect Persephone to be seductive and fresh-sounding, not to mention young; but Schade turns in a highly theatrical, perhaps overstated, reading. It may be just as well. A girlish Persephone could have been steamrolled by Wunderlich, and that never happens to Schade. Dixon’s moderate tempo is faster than Stravinsky’s, slower than Craft’s, and about the same as Thomas’s. The result is a gripping, earthy drama, full of pain, sacrifice, loss, and reconciliation. This is a Persephone of flesh and blood people, not gods. It may be just the thing for people who have found the work too effete, austere, or precious. Except for forward placement of the soloists that makes them sound larger than life, the monaural sound is outstanding. Audite’s notes supply insight into the participants and the circumstances but inexplicably fail to include a German-English libretto. The German text was produced for this performance and is not likely to be found in the booklet of another recording. (It is also slightly cut, this being the 1949 version.) Still, it is possible to follow the story with a standard French-English. I point out the obvious when I say that 49 minutes is hardly a generous time. Fans of Wunderlich and Dixon (whose recordings are rare) should find this hard to resist. Admirers of Persephone and even people who have had doubts about the piece should be interested as well.