Tuesday marks the 136th birthday of one of the greatest conductors of the 20th century, Wilhelm Furtwängler.

"Gustav Heinrich Ernst Martin Wilhelm Furtwängler (25 January 1886 – 30 November 1954) was a German conductor and composer. He is widely regarded as one of the greatest symphonic and operatic conductors of the 20th century. He was a major influence for many later conductors, and his name is often mentioned when discussing their interpretative styles.

Furtwängler was principal conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic between 1922 and 1945, and from 1952 until 1954. He was also principal conductor of the Gewandhaus Orchestra (1922–26), and was a guest conductor of other major orchestras including the Vienna Philharmonic. " - Wikipedia

There are 47 albums featuring music conducted by Furtwängler available at Pristine Classical, and for this week there's a 10% discount on them all.

As usual the discount is automatic and will be applied at the checkout. The offer is valid until next week's newsletter is sent out.

When it was discovered that the musicians’ contracts did not require additional payment for recording sessions, the Minneapolis Symphony suddenly became the most-recorded orchestra in America. During sessions held in January of 1934 and January of 1935, the orchestra made dozens of recordings, including such large-scale works as the Bruckner Seventh and the Mahler Second. The repertoire ranged from Bach (in transcription) to Schoenberg (Verklärte Nacht) to contemporary American and Hungarian composers, along with a good helping of the light Classics with which Ormandy had been associated.

Following these are recordings of works by two American composers. Charles Tomlinson Griffes was only 35 when he died of influenza in 1920 during the last major world pandemic; yet, he lived long enough to see his works championed by Stokowski in Philadelphia and Monteux in Boston. His Pleasure Dome of Kubla Khan was a disc première, as was John Alden Carpenter’s Adventures in a Perambulator, a look at the world through the eyes of a baby in a carriage.

The recording of Enescu’s Romanian Rhapsody No. 1 was its second outing on disc, although the first (George Georgescu’s 1929 version with the Bucharest Philharmonic) only came out on Czech HMV and had limited distribution, making Ormandy’s supercharged Minneapolis recording the one to first bring it to the attention of a worldwide audience. The Kodály Háry János Suite was also a disc première, as was the Weinberger Schwanda Fugue (along with the Polka, an Ormandy specialty throughout his career), which bested Harty’s Columbia recording of the excerpts by two months.

The Rachmaninov Second had previously been recorded by Sokoloff in Cleveland (Pristine PASC 524). Both versions had cuts, as was the accepted practice for many years; but Ormandy’s became the de facto standard for performing editions through the 1960s, until the Urtext became fashionable. By turns exciting and heartfelt, Ormandy’s interpretation (the first of four recordings and a concert video) remains one of the highlights of the Rachmaninov discography.

Producer Mark Obert-Thorn and Pristine have gathered together for the first time all of the premiere recordings of George Gershwin’s works for the concert hall and opera house. The originals include acoustic and electrical 78s and early LPs. The headnote for this review is probably not the easiest way to understand the contents of the collection, so I will summarize them here with recording dates.

- Rhapsody in Blue 1924: Gershwin, Whiteman, Paul Whiteman Orchestra

- Rhapsody in Blue 1927: Gershwin, Shilkret, Paul Whiteman Orchestra

- Rhapsody in Blue 1927: Levant, Black, Frank Black Orchestra

- Rhapsody in Blue 1927: Spoliansky, Fuhs, Julian Fuhs Symphony Orchestra

- Rhapsody in Blue: Andante 1928: Gershwin

- Three Preludes 1928: Gershwin

- Short Story 1928: Dushkin, Pirani

- Piano Concerto in F 1928: Bargy, Daly, Paul Whiteman Orchestra

- An American in Paris 1929: Shilkret, RCA Victor Symphony Orchestra

- Second Rhapsody 1938: Bargy, Whiteman, Paul Whiteman Orchestra

- Cuban Overture 1938: Linda, Whiteman, Paul Whiteman Orchestra

- Porgy and Bess excerpts 1935: Jepson, Tibbett, Smallens, Shilkret, Unidentified Orchestra

- I Got Rhythm Variations 1949: Levant, Gould, Morton Gould Orchestra

To all who love this music in a historical setting, this set will be self-recommending. Obert-Thorn has done a magnificent job of restoring the material, some of which is released for the first time on CD. I compared the two Rhapsody in Blue recordings with Gershwin as pianist to Pearl’s transfer, which sounds tinny and scratchy in comparison. The one acoustical recording here, the 1924 Rhapsody in Blue, was made four months after Gershwin and Paul Whiteman gave the world premiere (it is heard here in Ferde Grofé’s original jazz-band orchestration). Three years later Gershwin made the first electrical recording. However, he and Whiteman disagreed so strongly over tempos that Nathaniel Shilkret was brought in to conduct the Whiteman orchestra.

There is much to be learned and enjoyed from these historic recordings, but by no means are the performances definitive, no matter how you define the term. Most significantly, all four recordings of Rhapsody in Blue were severely abridged in order to fit the music on a single disc. Gershwin plays some phrases with different emphases in his two versions, and the electrical one seems a bit more driven and less fluid (perhaps due to tensions left over from arguing with Whiteman). There is no denying, though, the thrilling sense of history we get from the original performers’ thoughts about music that was of groundbreaking importance and which they were jointly responsible for creating. Tempos tend to be faster than we are used to now, which is typically due to the need to fit music on short 78 sides.

The Piano Concerto in F is a curious recording. Whiteman made it in 1928, when Gershwin was still alive and performing, but he chose his band’s keyboard player, Roy Bargy, as the soloist instead of the composer. He also replaced Gershwin’s symphonic orchestration with a jazz-band reduction commissioned from Grofé, which included sanctioned cuts in the second and third movements. It is known that Whiteman was upset, after the huge success of Rhapsody in Blue, when Gershwin turned to the New York Symphony and conductor Walter Damrosch for the premiere of the concerto. Gershwin was having successes with major American orchestras performing the work, but he never left a recorded documentation of his playing. Whiteman’s version is a very important document and a fascinating listening experience, but it feels a bit stiff and rushed as a performance.

I had not heard Gershwin’s recordings of his Three Preludes for Piano (with the Andante section of Rhapsody in Blue made as filler). The playing is delightful, with a natural swing and sensitive voicing. Following these is brief work titled Short Story, which is an arrangement for violin and piano by Samuel Dushkin of two Gershwin piano works. The performance by Dushkin and pianist Max Pirani is presumably authoritative, but there is little that remains in the memory after you’ve heard it.

The Second Rhapsody doesn’t live up to its predecessor and is heard here with Bargy in a cut version. I doubt that I’ll return to it very often. The same goes for this version of the Cuban Overture, which is not even close to what Gershwin wrote. Whiteman wanted to revive interest in the piece, which had received very few performances after its 1932 premiere, so he commissioned a piano concerto-like arrangement, which is what got recorded. The overture is very odd in this version, and it only belongs here because it was a Whiteman-Gershwin recording from this era.

What I will return to frequently is this recording of An American in Paris. Once again, a comparison of Pristine’s transfer with Pearl’s resolves resoundingly in Pristine’s favor, and the performance may be the most satisfying in the set. Whoever was contracting the orchestra for the session forgot to engage a keyboard player, so Gershwin, who was on hand to supervise the recording, wound up playing the celesta. An additional fascination is that we hear the actual taxi horns Gershwin brought back from Paris, and they make their presence known vividly.

The selections from Porgy and Bess were recorded immediately following the work’s opening on Broadway, and Gershwin supervised the sessions. Whoever was responsible for the decision to use two White singers from the Metropolitan Opera’s roster instead of the Blacks who starred in the show should be ashamed of himself for musical reasons as well as social equity. At least with Lawrence Tibbett we get a fabulous singer and interpreter who sounds at home whether singing the numbers for Porgy, Crown, or Sportin’ Life. On the other hand, Helen Jepson’s overly artful singing and diction could not be more wrong. Still, there is about these performances a sense of discovery and excitement, and Tibbett’s singing is genuinely great. Alexander Smallens’s conducting is stylish and very natural (Shilkret conducts “My Man’s Gone Now”).

I Got Rhythm Variations is given a terrific performance by Oscar Levant, a longtime friend of the composer and a fine pianist in his own right. He and Morton Gould definitely capture the music’s spirit and vitality. To conclude the set we get Levant’s first recording of Rhapsody in Blue and the first European recording of that work, played by Mischa Spoliansky, a composer of cabaret reviews. Once again the decision was made to fit the work on one 78-rpm disc, so severe cuts were imposed for both recordings. Levant’s way with the music is authoritative, vibrant, and very much worth hearing as an indication of a performance style Gershwin is known to have admired.

There is nothing on these two discs that can be recommended as the best, or only, way to hear this music. The limitations imposed by historical recording technology guarantee that there are more satisfying options for virtually all listeners. But the importance of what is here can hardly be overstated. These performances tell us a great deal about what Gershwin had in mind for his music, and in these superior transfers they come alive in a way that they never have before.

GILBERT & SULLIVAN HMS Pinafore

GILBERT & SULLIVAN The Pirates of Penzance

conducted by Dr. Malcolm Sargent

I have been writing for Fanfare for three decades, but I never have reviewed any Gilbert and Sullivan until now, except for a Hall of Fame review I contributed in 2001. I guess other reviewers have been pushier than I, and “none but the brave deserve the fair.” Nevertheless, I have been a G& S fanatic ever since high school, and count their operettas among my strongest theatrical passions.

For Pristine, at least, the focus of these two recordings is Sir (then “Dr.”) Malcolm Sargent, who was in his mid-30s when these recordings were made in 1929 (Pirates) and 1930 (Pinafore). Sargent began his association with the D’Oyly Carte Opera Company in 1926, and it continued, albeit increasingly sporadically, for the rest of his life. He recorded most of the operas in both mono and stereo, although all but two of the stereo recordings (Princess Ida and The Yeomen of the Guard) were made not with D’Oyly Carte ensembles but with the Glyndebourne Festival Chorus for EMI. The latter have become known as the “Glyndebourne recordings,” although the chorus is the only connection that they have with the Glyndebourne Festival. At the risk of over-simplification, the D’Oyly Carte recordings are considered more authentic—some of them include the spoken dialogue as well—but they can sound a little routine, and the singing, while mostly good, is inconsistent. In contrast, Sargent’s Glyndebourne recordings usually are described as more operatic, better sung (by the chorus as well), and, by the “Pro Arte Orchestra” (in reality, a pick-up ensemble), better played.

These two recordings have appeared on CD previously. Arabesque reissued both of them on LP and CD, and Pro Arte reissued them as well, although its reissue of Pinafore is incomplete. Romophone actually released this exact coupling in 1996. I don’t think any of these reissues remain in print, however, so Pristine’s new version is welcome, particularly for collectors who are trying to fill gaps in their collection.

Romophone’s excellent transfers and audio restoration were by Mark Obert-Thorn, who has done the transfers here as well. For the present release, we are told that he used “American Victor ‘Z’ pressings from the mid-1930s, which utilized the quietest shellac of any commercial 78 rpm discs.” Unless I misunderstand Romophone’s printed materials, it appears that he used the original HMV pressings for the Romophone reissue. The surfaces on this Pristine release are even more quiet, although I am not certain whether this is a function of different source material or of even more modern restoration technology. Maybe the sound is a little more present than it was previously, but the difference is subtle. On all transfers I have heard, there is distortion at some vocal climaxes, but it is very minor and probably intrinsic to the source material. Suffice it to say that the sound, despite its age, is vivid, so unless you cannot abide anything less than modern engineering, you should be very satisfied with this Pristine release.

Both casts are a mixture of D’Oyly Carte ensemble members and other HMV artists, notably Peter Dawson and George Baker. Baker appeared in many of the Glyndebourne recordings, but here he is a relatively youthful baritone of 45 or so. In contrast, by 1930, Henry Lytton was 65, and his Sir Joseph Porter is a case of the spirit being willing but the flesh being somewhat weak. Overall, the soloists are better in Pirates than in Pinafore. Tenor Derek Oldham has a more appealing voice than the unsteady Charles Goulding, and Leo Sheffield’s Sergeant of Police benefits from the lighter touch that it receives here. He and Lytton are links to the past, as they were members of the D’Oyly Carte company while Gilbert still was directing its productions. Elsie Griffin, the hooty soprano lead on both recordings, might be an acquired taste; I have not acquired it yet. That said, she has good moments in Pirates, such as at the end of the duet “Ah, leave me not to pine.” Both recordings were made under the direction of Rupert D’Oyly Carte. One feels the weight of tradition, but it has not yet become routine or dull.

Perhaps the real star of these two recordings is Sargent after all. These are the most sparklingly conducted Pinafore and Pirates on disc, even better than his later Glyndebourne recordings, which were released in 1958 and 1961 respectively. Sargent knew how to keep the music moving forward without rushing the singers, and one never senses that he took the music for granted. Even though the sound is not modern, the detail that comes forward in these recordings is impressive, and Sargent had more than a little to do with that. It is hard to believe that these recordings are now more than 90 years old.

DONIZETTI Lucia di Lammermoor

Lucia – Renata Scotto

Edgardo – Giuseppe Di Stefano

Enrico – Ettore Bastiannini

Raimondo – Ivo Vinco

Alisa – Stefania Malagù

Arturo – Franco Ricciardi

conducted by Nino Sanzogno

Elsewhere in this issue, I review a Rigoletto that has a similar history: recorded in Italy as a collaborative project between Mercury and Ricordi, and neglected in recent decades because its reissues on CD have been sonically problematic. Scotto and Bastianini are common to both sets. Pristine’s attention, with this new reissue, seems to be focused on Giuseppe Di Stefano, whose centennial birthday (posthumously celebrated) took place in 2021. With Pristine’s release of this set, recorded in 1959, all of Di Stefano’s commercial sets now have official CD releases.

I never paid a lot of attention to talk of Di Stefano’s vocal decline during this period; I guess I enjoyed his voice too much to worry about it. I decided to listen to this Lucia more critically, and indeed, one notes that there are times here when he sounds strained, particularly in the last scene. However, Di Stefano in decline is better than 95 percent of the other tenors who have sung this role. This still is a golden voice generously deployed, and even if he is not an especially subtle Edgardo, he is completely within Edgardo’s character.

If you know Renata Scotto only from her later recordings, I implore you to hear her Lucia, which also is among the very best ever recorded. In 1959, she was 25. She already had the intelligence and sensitivity to succeed in this role, and her voice was completely under her control. Sure, Maria Callas brought something special and untouchable to Lucia, but Scotto is distinctive too, combining secure coloratura (listen to her embellishments in the repeat of “Quando rapito in estasi”) and a bright but never shrill lyricism with the ability to create a sympathetic character. Her Lucia seems like a normal girl in love in the first act, but in the second act, during her duet with Enrico, you can hear Lucia start to go off the rails. I like Sutherland and Sills too, but I find Scotto’s voice, so typically Italianate, to be more appropriate for this role.

Additionally, Bastianini is a sonorous Enrico, although a somewhat conventional one in the sense that we are not made to feel the emotional complexities of Enrico’s situation. (Enrico is not simply a bad guy, after all. He is trying to save his family, although he goes about it in a ruthless and unethical way.) Vocally, however, he gives the role all he’s got. It’s unfortunate that the Wolf’s Crag scene is cut (as it usually was during this period) because it would have been wonderful to hear him and Di Stefano square off. Similarly, it’s unfortunate that the duet between Lucia and Raimondo has been cut, because Vinco’s bass voice, authoritative and warm, deserves more exposure than it receives here. The smaller roles are performed in accordance with La Scala’s high standards. The orchestra and chorus also do not disappoint. Nino Sanzogno does nothing unconventional, but he conducts with spirit and with a lightness of touch that later conductors (Bonynge, for example) would have done well to learn from.

Despite the presence of producer Wilma Cozart Fine, I don’t think the 1960 Rigoletto ever sounded quite right, and Pristine’s efforts to improve it, while welcome, are only incompletely successful. I am pleased to report that this Lucia sounds much better. In recent years, some of its reissues were in monaural sound (why?) or taken directly from imperfect LPs. Mark Obert-Thorn, the producer and restoration engineer for this new reissue, does not say what his source material was, but the results are very fine. The stereophonic sound, while quite bright, does not lack warmth, and it is gratifyingly noise-free. I agree with Obert-Thorn when he writes, in his introduction to this reissue, that “it has never sounded better than it does here.”

Every Lucia lover should own at least one recording that presents Donizetti’s score more or less uncut. This will not be that recording. However, this is an essential supplemental recording, given its remarkable consistency, theatricality, and strength. It is a contender for my Want List at the end of the year.