Nach der Aufarbeitung der Wiener Klassik (Mozart, Beethoven und Schubert) widmet sich die jüngste Veröffentlichung historischer Aufnahmen des ‘Amadeus Quartett’ dem britischen und ungarischen Repertoire des 20. Jahrhunderts. Auf CD 1 sind jeweils das 2. Quartett von Britten und Tippett eingespielt sowie drei Werke von Henry Purcell.

CD 2 beinhaltet das ‘Quartetto lirico’ von Matyas Seiber und die Quartett 4 und 6 von Bela Bartok. Wir befinden uns in Zeiten des Umbruchs nach zwei Weltkriegen, die die Menschheit komplett aus dem Gleichgewicht geworfen und die Suche nach neuen kulturellen Referenzen und Orientierungen unabdingbar gemacht hat.

Sämtliche eingespielten Kompositionen sind Zeugnisse dieser Suche, die dennoch nie ganz ohne Referenzen an die klassisch-romantische Tradition – bei Britten sogar an die Barockzeit – auskommt.

Das ‘Amadeus Quartett’ deutet diese Nachklänge zerbrochener Welten mit fesselnder musikalischer Tiefe – manchmal scharfzüngig, vorwiegend jedoch zart, mit fiebriger Intensität (z.B. das wunderbare Cello-Solo im 4. Bartok-Quartett). Zieht man zudem die Aufnahmebedingungen in Betracht – ein quasi Live-Mitschnitt ohne die Möglichkeit kosmetischer Nachbesserungen – liefern diese hervorragend überarbeiteten Studio-Aufnahmen aus den 50er Jahren einen weiteren Beweis der Ausnahmestellung des Amadeus Quartett.

Gripping performances of unusual musical insight and depth.

Audite’s recording is close if not claustrophobic, close enough to differentiate the character of the four Italian instruments as well as their players—the 20th-century viola and cello are more reticent if more timbrally even than the Amati and Testore instruments used by the violinists. The microphones catch both the leader’s sniff and the rather wide and slow vibrato he uses in general; I prefer the pure tone employed by him and his colleagues to chilling effect in the Adagio of Op 18 No 1, which is invested with an unusual depth of expression. The dramatic silences are given full measure around Eroica-like intensifications of the main theme’s second half at the movement’s climax, and the players don’t let the tension slacken with a sentimental rallentando but bend the coda with discreet portamento.

Right from the subtle play with Beethoven’s opening gambit—first tentative, then more assured, like a guest at the door putting their party face on—this is a performance that moves with purpose and takes care over the small things. Both the Scherzo and its Trio push on relentlessly—it’s a small room for a busy party and the guests are inclined to talk to your face—with plenty of buzz from the cellist as he lays into a point. The confrontational tonal profile of the quartet is more obviously suited to the abrupt contrasts of Op 131. The stabbing accents of the opening Adagio would cut deeper at a lower dynamic level, and throughout there is a lack of really quiet, inward playing, even in the central Andante. Accordingly the finale is a first cousin to the Grosse Fuge, raw and impressively provisional.

Furtwängler conducted the Ninth more than 100 times, of which about a dozen were recorded; none of these was done in studio (which he disliked on principle) and all were from concert performances. This was the last, recorded at the 1954 Lucerne Festival on August 22, 1954, about three months before he died. Of particular note here is the re-mastering of the original tapes (from Swiss Radio) by Ludger Böckenhoff. The recording is remarkably clear and without noise, though the sound is boxy and, of course, monaural.

This is, on the whole, a very fine performance and a good representation of Furtwängler’s approach to the work. The very beginning has some rough moments of ensemble, but the Philharmonia settles in and plays quite well. The first movement has the gravity and seriousness we expect from the conductor, and the slow movement includes many transcendent moments, particularly in the junctions between themes. The finale is expertly gauged. The main theme begins almost inaudibly, and the build to a frenetic ending is very convincing. Chorus and soloists are all in good shape.

Particularly with the fine sonics, this issue merits a recommendation, though I think I would prefer the similar 1951 Bayreuth performance, which is a little quicker and creates a better sense of occasion. Also in the running would be a white-hot war-time performance (Berlin, 1942), which probably shows Furtwängler at the height of his power and imagination.

The Tchaikovsky Piano Trio must be the most operatically effusive chamber work ever written. Its commanding piano part perfectly suits an outsize personality like Martha Argerich, who has recorded it magnificently (DG). You expect a claque in the balcony to explode with bravas. On the same label another world-striding pianist, Lang Lang, delivers a panoramic performance, and in both cases the celebrated violinist (Gideon Kremer, Vadim Repin) and cellist (Mischa Maisky times two) hardly needed to sneak off to a trainer for steroids, either. These are readings on the grand Romantic scale that the Tchaikovsky Trio demands.

In the spirit of the mouse that roared, the modestly celebrated Trio Testore, a German ensemble founded in 2000, presents the score just as grandly, daring any challengers. Pianist Hyun-Jung Kim-Schweiker has a sweeping technique and takes the lead role with as much personality as anyone I’ve ever encountered. Violinist Franziska Pietsch and cellist Hans-Christian Schweiker (the pianist’s husband) play two beautifully matched 18th-century instruments made by the Testore family of Milan, hence the trio’s name. These musicians are comfortable in emotional shades of purple, and the result is a top-flight reading.

This is all the more so because Audite’s SACD sound, even when heard in two-channel stereo, is remarkably full, clear, and detailed. We are sitting inches away from the performers, and the balance is lifelike in every respect. The interpretation proceeds at first in broad gestures, but when we get to the work’s second half, with its luscious theme and 12 variations, Trio Testore characterizes each section quite individually—the Tempo di valse of Variation 6 trips as light-heartedly as the Fuga of Variation 8 toils away earnestly and the Andante febrile of Variation 9 intimately sighs for lost love. Rachmaninoff’s precocious Trio élégaique, which the 19-year-old wrote over four days in January 1892, is couched in his signature mood of voluptuous mourning. It makes for a lovely if not very original filler. In all, a delightful disc that inspires me to hear the Trio Testore’s highly praised debut recording of the Brahms piano trios. They also head a spring festival in the west of Germany in Alsdorf, a once grim coal mining town now given over to the muses.

Furtwängler conducted the Ninth more than 100 times, of which about a dozen were recorded; none of these was done in studio (which he disliked on principle) and all were from concert performances. This was the last, recorded at the 1954 Lucerne Festival on August 22, 1954, about three months before he died. Of particular note here is the re-mastering of the original tapes (from Swiss Radio) by Ludger Böckenhoff. The recording is remarkably clear and without noise, though the sound is boxy and, of course, monaural.

This is, on the whole, a very fine performance and a good representation of Furtwängler’s approach to the work. The very beginning has some rough moments of ensemble, but the Philharmonia settles in and plays quite well. The first movement has the gravity and seriousness we expect from the conductor, and the slow movement includes many transcendent moments, particularly in the junctions between themes. The finale is expertly gauged. The main theme begins almost inaudibly, and the build to a frenetic ending is very convincing. Chorus and soloists are all in good shape.

Particularly with the fine sonics, this issue merits a recommendation, though I think I would prefer the similar 1951 Bayreuth performance, which is a little quicker and creates a better sense of occasion. Also in the running would be a white-hot war-time performance (Berlin, 1942), which probably shows Furtwängler at the height of his power and imagination.

This famed performance was Furtwängler’s last of the Ninth; he died a few months later. I have reviewed it many times in Fanfare: Music & Arts releases in 17:4, 19:3, and 31:6, and a Tahra reissue in 32:4. I find no Fanfare review, from me or any other critic, of Pristine’s version. Now we have this “official” Lucerne Festival release, part of an important series of reissues of great Lucerne Festival performances on Audite taken directly from the Swiss Radio masters. (Tahra claimed that as the source too, and it wouldn’t surprise me given the fine quality of that release; Pristine did not indicate a source, but its version also has very good sound). This recording, in fact, boasts top quality monaural broadcast sound from that era—some of the finest sound quality given any Furtwängler performance.

Interested readers can look up those earlier reviews in the Fanfare Archive, and I will not go into great detail here about the performance, other than to say that over the years it has become my own favorite of the 12 that have survived (all are live; Furtwängler never made a studio recording of this work). Overall it can be said to combine the intensity and drama of his earlier versions with a certain nobility and restraint not always present in those. It is, of course, helped by the fine recorded sound. The slow movement in particular here is magical; one never feels a bar line, rather it is one long arch. Anyone interested in this music, no matter what your performance style preference might be, should hear this statement of immense musical grandeur and power.

For collectors, the important question will be how this compare to the Tahra and Pristine issues, both of which are of excellent quality. I would say that for most listeners, the differences will not be significant, and if you own either the Tahra or Pristine version this is not an essential purchase. (Tahra has folded, which eliminates one option for those who don’t own it.) I have spent the better part of a weekend comparing the three versions, and would say that I have a slight preference for this Audite version, so a collector who deeply cares about this performance and absolutely wants the most satisfying transfer might wish to explore it. I find the orchestral sound just a bit more natural and less congested, more fully open.

One issue is the equalization applied by the transfer engineers. Andrew Rose of Pristine felt that there was a bit too much mid-bass on the Tahra (I am paraphrasing), which made the timpani overly prominent. He suggested a point of comparison at about 10:00 into the first movement, and so I directly compared that spot (from about 9:55 to about 11:10) in all three versions, in addition to listening to the entire performance in all three transfers. Rose was right: The Tahra does seem a bit boomy, and his compensation was an improvement. But one could make the case that he went too far, and that this Audite release finds the proper middle ground. Both in that one-minute passage, and in hearing the entire performance, I found the Audite to be slightly more satisfying as a listening experience. But I will stress again that the differences are not major.

Also not major, but present, are the pitch/speed differences. Audite and Pristine are extremely close (for all practical purposes, identical); Tahra is transferred at a very slightly faster speed. The pitch difference is not consciously audible, but could be affecting one’s reaction to the overall sonority of the orchestra. Here are the timings of each movement, not as given in the booklet, but as measured from first note to end of last note of each movement:

Audite’s notes are excellent, though not always perfectly translated into idiomatic English. What is most gratifying is that this is another assurance that this historic performance will remain available to the public in the best possible form.

Audite's Fournier CD is a treasure, live performances by the legendary cellist. [...] All of these performances were recorded at the Lucerne Festival; audio quality is first-rate. An important release!

Bei nachtwandlerisch sicherer Intonation zaubert die ungarische Virtuosin einen runden stets sinnlich-sängerischen Klang aus ihrer Carlo Bergonzi Violine. Der edel fokussierte Ton schimmert wie ein roter knackiger Apfel im Abendlicht. Und Martzy verzichtet dabei nicht auf den Hochseilakt der eigenen spontanen Lesart und des Risikos der unbedingten Hingabe an den Augenblick. [...] Das ausführliche Booklet erinnert in einem exzellenten Essay von Rüdiger Albrecht ausführlich an die nunmehr ein Stückchen mehr dem Vergessen entrissene ungarische Künstlerin.

Here's some tremendously accomplished playing in two works from opposite ends of Beethoven's career as a composer of string quartets. The scurrying triplets in the finale of the first of the Op. 18 quartets, for instance, are articulated with remarkable clarity, and the tricky violin writing in the trio of the same work's scherzo is dispatched with admirable fluency. At the other end of the scale, in the long variation movement that forms the expressive heart of the late C sharp minor Quartet Op. 131, the individual phrases of the initial theme are handed over from one violin to the other with admirable tenderness, and the players find just the right caressing tone for the third variation, which Beethoven wanted performed lusinghiero ('flatteringly').

There are moments when the players' approach to the music can seem a little larger than life: the sforzato accents in the central section of the slow movement of Op. 18 No. I – one of the great tragic utterances among Beethoven's earlier works – sound like pistol shots; and the same marking in the subject of the slow opening fugue of Op. 131 is again exaggerated, disrupting the music's tranquil mood to an unnecessary degree. If these are faults, however, they are faults in the right direction. Curiously enough, given the players' propensity for dramatisation, Op. 131's second movement sounds rather easygoing for its 'Allegro molto vivace' marking. But these are compelling accounts, and this fourth volume in the Quartetto di Cremona's Beethoven cycle can confidently be recommended.

Die "Mandelringe" spielen Mendelssohn weg von gängigen Poesieklischees hin zu einer imponierenden Geradlinigkeit, die keine Zweifel an der überragenden Bedeutung dieses Werkkosmos aufkommen lässt. [...] So liegt eine fesselnde Mischung aus Herbheit und Virtuosität über dem ganzen Projekt.