More old friends neatly and economically packaged, although one’s gratitude is at least partially compromised by the fact that most of the Janos Starker, Annie Fischer and Lovro von Matacic recordings have already appeared in other reissue contexts, the former two within bulky (but cheap) French EMI “Les introuvables de...” boxes. Not, however, in their best sound – which is where these particular compilations come into their own. Many of the recordings are issued in stereo for the first time (the Starker set is of particular interest in this respect), and the overall standard of tape-to-CD transfer is exceptionally high.
My personal ‘best of the bunch’ features Rudolf Kempe in a lovingly tended sequence from the 1950s and 1960s. Suites from The bartered bride and Hansel und Gretel (Kempe’s own) are full of affection and good humour (the Hansel Overture is extraordinarily beautiful) and although Haydn’s London Symphony lacks Bruggen’s bluster or Beecham’s charm, how utterly serene the finale’s second set – ‘romantic’, perhaps, but so stylishly realized. The Strauss and Lehar items are warm, cultivated, almost conversational, while both Till Eulenspiegel and Don Quixote unfold their respective narratives with unforced brilliance and great beauty of tone (in fact they rather upstage their Dresden successors). This is the work of a true master, polished, thoughtfully considered and phrased with the utmost sensitivity. It might not ‘pack punches’ in the manner of, say, Szell or Reiner (although the Strauss tone-poems have plenty of vitality), but musical dividends are consistently high.
Lovro von Matacic’s Philharmonia records of Russian fare were always well respected and the 1958 Scheherazade, although less immediately engaging than some, includes many impressive features – Hugh Bean’s sweet-centred account of the solo part, for example, or a brilliant final movement (where trumpets and woodwinds are exceptionally brilliant). Note, too, Matacic’s painstaking projection of accompanying string figurations in the Eugene Onegin “Polonaise” (at, say, 2'14'') and his blending of textures in Raymonda’s seriously Wagnerian “Introduction”. The Bruckner D minor Scherzo – a first release – was something of a rarity back in 1956 and although the trio is perhaps a little over-romanticized (quite unlike Matacic’s later Bruckner recordings for Supraphon), the outer sections have plenty of rhythmic ‘lift’. More familiar are Tchaikovsky’s The Storm and Hamlet, sturdy readings both of them, with well-chosen tempos and some fine playing. And then there is the “Theme and Variations” finale from the Third Suite (not, alas, the whole work – as is suggested on the slip-case), nicely observed but with a somewhat heavy-handed Polonaise final variation.
Matacic’s selection is highly musical but generally uncharismatic, whereas Artur Rodzinski’s RPO legacy (or at least the small part of it for which EMI were responsible) has a more striking personality. Best by far are the Spanish items, the “Ritual fire dance” being one of the most dramatically incisive accounts ever recorded. Beecham’s orchestra is on top form for sultry Granados, sun-drenched Albeniz and a particularly memorable Three-cornered hat. If you require evidence as to just how seductive this so-called martinet could be on occasion, then try 0'22'' into the ballet’s “Introduction”, and note the ensuing woodwind solos (I can remember an equally alluring Rapsodie espagnole that Rodzinski recorded in Cleveland years before). The Russian Easter Festival Overture is suitably regal (the closing pages are swathed in aural glitter) while Romeo and Juliet combines passion and finesse. Rodzinski’s ear for texture and dynamics is particularly apparent near the start of Tod und Verklarung; Strauss’s tinselly Couperin Dance Suite is hugely entertaining (the busy “Tourbillon” especially) and the shorter Russian items confirm an impression of discipline allied to a vivid musical imagination.
Pianist Annie Fischer prompts major Beethoven, Schubert, Schumann and Bartok to reflect the full measure of their own very different personalities. Her sterling accounts of Beethoven’s Op. 13, Op. 27 No. 2 and Op. 111 are especially striking, the Pathetique on account of a masterful first movement (with repeat) and a particularly sensitive finale, the Moonlight with its grave Adagio sostenuto and fiercely rhythmic Presto agitato. The Schubert Impromptus are muscular and assertive, the Schumann works ‘big’ both in tone and conception – although Fischer’s Kinderszenen lacks nothing in terms either of delicacy or expressive nuance. However, the set’s most interesting prize is a positively Lisztian account of Bartok’s Third Piano Concerto – stormy, assured, candidly expressive and with a nicely pointed (if not terribly precise) LSO accompaniment under Igor Markevitch. The ‘first release’ 1955 stereo recording is fairly spacious though a little gritty, less warm but rather more informative than its mono equivalent.
As to the Janos Starker collection, I can merely echo what I wrote in the December issue regarding French EMI’s six-disc “Les introuvables de Janos Starker” (which duplicates everything on this Profile two-disc set). The playing itself is lean, muscular, technically immaculate and musically ‘centred’, with Starker’s lyrical bent serving the Prokofiev Concerto and delightful Dohnanyi Konzertstuck particularly well. The one main difference between the two issues is that the Profile serves Dohnanyi, Prokofiev and Milhaud in stereo (for the first time on disc), a real boon, certainly as far as the orchestra are concerned.
A fine sequence of reissues, then, well planned, nicely presented and sympathetically annotated. Let’s hope that further releases (in this – or indeed in any other – series) avoid such a high degree of catalogue duplication. It surely cannot be economically viable to reissue the same recordings twice within such a short space of time.'