Klemperer made his major Mozart orchestral recordings over a decade between 1957 and 1966 and it is a pity that room was not found in this box for the late-fifties stereo version of Symphony No. 40 in G minor alongside the 1963 account, which fails to take off in quite the way that the earlier recording did. With a slow and rather heavy first movement, even though the central movements are beautifully played, this proves to be somewhat disappointing, although not without interest. The Jupiter (No. 41) too, while it is always alert and structurally sound, lacks a sense of occasion (nevertheless it has its moments—the third movement is particularly well judged). The Linz (No. 36) brings a portentous introduction and an overtly serious pacing of the first movement, a cool Poco adagio and a briskly efficient finale; a similarly weighty view of the Haffner (No. 35) offers another powerful opening, with Klemperer emphasizing the forward thrust, and a classically pure Andante.
None of these performances is without insights and throughout the playing of the Philharmonia Orchestra, at the peak of its very considerable sixties form, gives pleasure in itself, the wind always luminous and the naturally expressive string phrasing showing the unanimity of a chamber group. The recordings have been remastered and satisfactorily freshened. The earliest—Symphony No. 25 in G minor—sounds a little rough in tuttis, but this clarity serves to emphasize the spirited impulse of the allegros, while the beautiful Andante, magically intimate, retains its incandescent glow. A fine, satisfying version this. Elsewhere the recorded quality is consistently well focused and full, with a convincing body to the strings and good detail. Klemperer's account of No. 29, with its unhurried first movement, has a grace and spaciousness to enhance the work's stature so that it takes its place alongside the mature symphonies; similarly, the Paris (No. 31) is made to seem strong yet not heavy, with taut rhythms and expressive detail. Here the steadily paced finale matches the Andantino in poise, yet still provides a spirited contrast. The engagingly light rhythmic touch of the first movement of No. 33 makes a foil for the Andante which is shaped with the most refined Classical feeling and the performance is capped with a sparkling finale articulated with wonderful finesse.
Symphony No. 34 in C shows the conductor at his most imaginative, and in the relaxed opening movement there is a reminder of Furtwangler in the way Klemperer—in the development section especially—brings a sense of creative spontaneity as the argument unfolds. The Andante has an Elysian radiance in its lightness of touch from the strings, while the rollicking triplets of the finale anticipate Mendelssohn in their airy grace, with the tuttis rich in colour. I had remembered the original coupling of Symphonies Nos. 38 and 39 as one of my favourite Klemperer LPs and a rehearing did not disappoint. The conductor unashamedly looks forward to Beethoven in the breadth of his conceptions, yet the opening movement of No. 39 is tremendously virile and the Andante expressively heart-warming, with a vivaciously joyful finale following a nicely paced minuet. The Prague (No. 38) is equally alive and spontaneous (the shaping of the second subject of the first movement a special delight), symbolizing the balance Klemperer always sought (and here achieved splendidly) between the Classical spirit and a more Romantic and forward-looking emotional strength. Very good recording too.
One must not forget the shorter pieces. The Adagio and Fugue is an ideal vehicle for the Klemperer ethos, uniquely powerful, atmospherically severe; the Masonic Funeral Music, too, is unforgettably dark and sombre. Eine kleine Nachtmusik is given an unexpectedly sunny performance and is marvellously played by a full body of strings, with the graceful rhythmic pointing of the allegros finding a counterpart in the affection the conductor bestows on the Romanze. The overtures, always a pleasure, are characteristically given more substance than usual. One remembers the relaxed woodwind felicities of Cosi fan tutte, the direct, positive Die Zauberflote and, most of all, the apocalyptic drama of the opening section of Don Giovanni.
Taken as an overall achievement this series of performances—always memorable, even when one fails to respond to a chosen tempo or application of gravitas—is valuable in reminding us (as does Bruno Walter's glowingly human set of the late symphonies on CBS, M3P 39627—to be reviewed later) what we expected Mozart to sound like in the decade before the 'original-instruments' school took over. Both Klemperer and Walter show a breadth of vision, a spiritual depth, and an expressive feeling for the Mozartian musical phraseology that too often eludes current interpretations, when the so-called 'authenticity' of texture (itself essentially conjectural) is considered of paramount importance. I hope EMI have plans to issue some of this material on CD. If so, Symphonies Nos. 33, 34, 38 and 39 should be first considered, with the Adagio and Fugue, Masonic Funeral Music, ''Night music'' and Don Giovanni Overture included, as space allows.'