Anyone who was lucky enough to attend Carnegie Hall on April 19th, 1941 will have heard one of the most electrifying Tchaikovsky concerts in living memory. Arturo Toscanini conducted the early Voyevoda Overture, the Pathetique Symphony and the First Piano Concerto with his son-in-law Vladimir Horowitz as soloist (it was the very first time that they had performed the work together). Wartime collectors at least had the chance to hear the famous Horowitz-Toscanini studio recording of the concerto, made during the following month. Nowadays, of course, that RCA classic is considered something of a ‘must’ for piano aficionados, and yet its live predecessor is, if anything, even more spontaneous. Horowitz’s liquid tone, lightning finger velocity and rocketing dynamics are common to both, but try the treacherous octave passage in the first movement (first disc, track 1, 7'26'' – it’s at 7'13'' on track 17 of the RCA disc) and the concert performance rather upstages its cleaner studio successor. There are minor differences in Toscanini’s conducting, too, such as the rhetorical broadening at 9'25'' (there’s no hint of it in the studio recording, i.e. at 9'05'', nor at 9'57'' on the significantly slower broadcast performance of 1943 listed above). The sound is reasonably good for the period, though a tape snip deprives us of the repeated string phrase at 12'45''. Music & Arts’ transfer is marginally less clear than on my old Melodram LPs, but the missing phrase is common to both.
Toscanini’s noble reading of the Pathetique Symphony is most popularly known through feted studio recordings made in 1942 (with the Philadelphia Orchestra) and 1947 (with the NBC Symphony). Many would award winning laurels to the intensely passionate earlier version, but this 1941 broadcast is finer still. The third movement has a tautness, precision and cumulative power that even Mravinsky doesn’t quite match, while the outer movements are ardently voiced without sounding unduly pressured. Both are crowned by coruscating climaxes, though I’d also advise readers to track down – if they can – Michael G. Thomas’s LP edition of Toscanini’s first NBC performance of the piece (1938), where the second statement of the first movement’s Andante theme (bar 130) and the finale’s Andante (bar 38) are played with still greater levels of warmth and sweetness. In other respects, however this 1941 broadcast is Toscanini’s most convincing recorded Pathetique.
Manfred is problematic in that Toscanini made subtle adjustments to Tchaikovsky’s orchestration and a number of unsubtle cuts, the most conspicuous being in the finale (bars 141-257). A famous 1949 RCA recording faces a strong – and better-engineered – broadcast rival from four years later (Music & Arts), but the 1940 version under review pips both to the post. The main advantages concern extra flexibility, greater clarity in the part-writing (especially with regard to inner string lines) and a higher level of intensity (the Andante con moto is unforgettably passionate), though the later performances are marginally better drilled. Toscanini’s empathetic reportage of Manfred’s self-possessed wanderings made me regret that so much of the score’s more soulful music had been excised and that the ‘old man’ never tackled an Elgar Symphony (I cherish the fantasy that in another life he might conduct the Second Symphony – and that I might hear it!).
The two orchestral works are brilliant in the extreme. The Voyevoda is one of Tchaikovsky’s earliest and longest opera overtures (it has nothing whatsoever to do with the fine symphonic ballad of the same name); it features a theme with embellishments followed by a Verdi-style melody (try from, say, 4'30'') that Toscanini must have relished. The closing pages fully match the 1812 for bombast and the NBC players rise to the challenge with what sounds like limitless enthusiasm. The Tempest is a better piece and an even finer performance (note the tender handling of the love music at 7'58'' and the savage entry of the strings at 10'59'') but this poorly dubbed transfer is no match for the far clearer refurbishment that dell’Arte issued on LP in 1985.
Still, it’s all we have for the moment and, taken as a whole, this well annotated two-disc set (Christopher Dyment prepared the booklet-essay) is a major addition to the current Toscanini discography. Those ‘in the know’ will need no prompting from me, but if you love the works represented and haven’t as yet heard these performances, then mark my words, Toscanini will make them come alive like no one else before or since.'