Records
Terrifying Old Man
CAIRNS
By DAVID THE reappearance of some of Toscanini's old Victor record- ings is a timely reminder of values that are increasingly in danger of being trampled underfoot in the modern Gadarene stampede into deeper abysses of resounding perfec- tion. As recordings, they may not command the velvety tone, sumptuous presence and richly defined detail of the best of modern hi-fi, and they may have come too early to enjoy the bless- ings of stereo; but as interpretations they are alive to an extent and in a way that some of the carefully engineered prefabrications which pass for interpretation today are quite unable to com- prehend. I remember that a couple of years ago, when the Karajan version of Falstaff appeared, one critic was rash enough, in the first flush of hi-fi fever, to claim that it reduced Toscanini's to the status of a museum piece. In fact the Toscanini version, coming out again on the RCA label after a lamentable absence from the catalogue, shows up the other as the hygienic, homogenised piece of mechanical sham that it is. In the one there is merely a beautiful uniformity of pulse and mood; in the other a unity of which the first seems wholly unaware is achieved out of an incredible fecundity of dramatic detail--'the music,' as Bruno Walter has said of Mozart, 'changes all the time.' It is significant that Karajan is finest in that part of the work where the music is most impersonal, least dramatic and most free of ten- sion, humour and movement—the magical point of repose in the third Act beginning with Nanetta's 'Ninfe, elfi, silfi.'
But if he were five times as good as he is, he Would still be up against unbeatable competition. Falstaff was Toscanini's passion. While he was still in his thirties his phenomenal grasp of the work drew from the aged Verdi, after one par- ticularly fine performance, the famous three-word postcard: `Grazie, Grazie, Grazie.' Throughout his life as a conductor Toscanini was always look- ing for someone in each generation to mould into something like an ideal buon corpo di Sir John. Stabile's renowned characterisation was shaped and inspired by months of study under Tos- canini's personal tuition; Valdengo's, on these records, was another. The legend, cherished by apologists of the star system, of Toscanini's im- patience with singers is at any rate partly dis- proved by what he made of Valdengo, in Falstaff and in Otello; the seedy, self-satisfied Don Giovanni of the 1955 Glyndebourne production is unrecognisable in the formidable lago which he recorded under Toscanini eight years earlier, in 1947. And Stich-Randall's truly ravishing Nanetta need only be compared with the man- nered twittering of her present style for one to realise how beneficial a disciplinarian the maestro could be, even for his singers. Toscanini was impatient, through experience, of their vanities and ineptitudes; but 1 suspect that it was their natural awe of the terrifying old man, rather than his alleged tendency to drive them without quarter, that often made them 'vocalise' less well than under conductors who allowed them more rope. But in Falstaff the singers, for once, are well up with him and in full cry. Apart from a vul- garly lachrymose Fenton it is a cast splendidly of one mind, infected with the fire and 'delight of this unquenchable music.
If the Toscanini Otello is less magnificent, it is only so in the nature of things, because of the enormous demands the music makes on the techni- cal and imaginative powers of its singers. Val- dengo is, as 1 have said, a being transformed; and though for the Otello of Vinay, a baritone with vaulting ambitions to become a heroic tenor, the writing was already on the wall even in 1947, he manages pretty well with the aid of a micro- phone and a certain innate nobility of style. On the other hand Herva Nelli, whose superb Alice makes Madame Schwarzkopf's on the Karajan records sound so contrived, is a mediocre Des- demona. But the impact of the performance as a whole is staggering and wonderfully revealing. I defy anyone to keep still during the Storm or the Brindisi in Act I; in Mr. Sackville-West's phrase (surely much more applicable to this than, as he applies it, to the climax of the development in the first movement of Toscanini's ferocious perform- ance of the Ninth Symphony), 'the listener feels compelled to leave his chair and pace the room in uncontrollable agitation.'
Both Otello and Falstaff (especially Falstaff) receive vivid, well defined recordings which more than make up in brightness and attack what they lack in warmth and richness of tone. Another good RCA reissue is Toscanini conducts Verdi, two records made up of the fourth Act of Rigo- law, various overtures and choruses and an excit- ing rarity, the ballet numbers composed for the 1894 earls production of Otello—the last music Verdi wrote for the stage. Immensely powerful and intense performances. Other Toscanini records that have reappeared in the last year in- clude the Brahms symphonies on four discs, and one of six Rossini overtures (all RCA). Many of these performances are discussed with loving de- tail and insight in Spike Hughes's book The Toscanini Legacy (Putnam, 30s.)—if only Mr. Hughes did not sometimes feel it necessary, in a spirit of jealous exclusiveness worthy of an Old Testament prophet, to exalt his god by cast- ing down the harmless altars of his rivals; the 'notorious Furtwiingler pianissimo' comes in for a certain amount of rather feeble-minded abuse. Great conductors rnay despise each other's guts; critics have other battles to fight than a futile vendetta between two different sides of the truth.
Briefly, some other records that I recommend : Stravinsky's Symphonies for Wind Instruments, coupled with Hindemith's Symphony for Mili- tary Band and SchOnberg's Theme and Variations for Wind Band, in brilliant performances by the Eastman Wind Ensemble (Mercury); Bartok's Music for Strings, Percussion and Celeste and Deux Portraits, by the Berlin Radio Orchestra under Ferenc Fricsay (DGM); Giovanni Mar- tinelli, VoI. I, a delightful record of a tenor with a voice of golden fire and a style to match (Cam- den); a Supraphon disc of the two Smetana quartets; and Charles Mackerras's intoxicating performance of Handel's Fireworks Music (with the original instrumentation and Brock's bangers ad lib.) and the Concerto a Due Cori, which have all the bounce and vigour that I miss in Anthony Lewis's somewhat epicene Oiseau-Lyre disc of Music from Handel.
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