At the outset, let it be said that it is marvellous to have this very special performance of The Ring back in the catalogue, particularly as it has been re-cut on to 14 records as against the previous 18, and the actual sound has been greatly improved. Of course, it still doesn't rival that of the stereo versions, especially those now available on CD, but then none of those has Furtwangler's unique powers as a Wagnerian to illuminate them. For a lengthy description of the calibre of his interpretation, I refer readers back to Deryck Cooke's enthusiastic review of 14 years ago. Those who don't possess that back number might like a flavour of what that great Wagnerian wrote: ''The superlative quality of Furtwangler's interpretation resides in his awareness that The Ring is not in any sense a beautiful and sophisticated work, a la Karajan, or a frenetically violent work, a la Solti, but a stark, heavy, brooding work, a profound tragedy set in a primitive world of ancient Teutonic gods and heroes, to whom every action and event is of the utmost existential importance—a la Wagner.''
Cooke was aware, as I am, that the context of live concerts does not offer up technical perfection, that the Rome Radio orchestra is not the Vienna or Berlin Philharmonic, that sometimes Furtwangler traverses the music slowly, that the cast has its weaknesses, but I still agree with him that this set could be termed the ''gramophone event'' of the century—'event' rather than 'achievement'.Nowadays I would have to qualify that by saying that it ranks alongside Bohm's very different Philips reading (then not available but now on CD only) as ''spontaneous, living, public performance from beginning to end'', and also to recall that Furtwangler's La Scala Recording of 1950, (Peerless Murray Hill 940477, 10/76—nla), is an even greater reading by virtue of having a better orchestra, even greater dramatic power—and Flagstad's Brunnhilde. But the grandeur and incandescence of the conductor's interpretation, as now heard in more than tolerable sound, is a fitting tribute for his centenary. Its calibre can be heard in the miraculous sustaining of the quietest and most reflective passages at a moderate tempo, in the sheer thrill at moments of action (rhythmic solidity the clue here) and, above all, in the moments of emotional strength or dynamic thrust. All is derived from that supreme gift of maintaining line, underpinning it with a rock-steady bass, and an ear for the importance of relevant semiquavers.
Modl is no Flagstad, vocally speaking, but the depth of expression almost makes one forgive and forget the glottal attack, and her way with words remains memorable. Her main partners are admirable. Frantz may not achieve Hotter's insights, nor indeed Theo Adam's but his steadiness and authority are as rewarding as ever. Ludwig Suthaus, after a rough start in Siegfried, recovers to a performance of ''true heroic stamp'' (Cooke), like Modl singing off the words in a way seldom heard today—and he was a real Heldentenor. Windgassen, soon to be the Siegfried of the decade, is a most musical and pleasing Siegmund (though not so vital as Treptow in the Scala set). Konetzni is a bright-sounding, involving Sieglinde (in rather better voice three years earlier). Jurinac, as one would expect, is a nonpareil of a Woglinde and Gutrune, Rita Streich an ideal Woodbird. Fricka is not very well cast in either incarnation; Klose is the better of the Erdas, and a superb Waltraute—her scene with Modl is unforgettable.
In the character roles, there are few weaknesses. Neidlinger's Alberich in Rheingold rightly dominates the opera, particularly in comparison with Windgassen's securely sung but under-played Loge. Patzak also devotes more time to musicality than to overdoing Mime's nastiness. I think this is an advantage (Cooke thought otherwise), as he makes the dwarf sound just as unpleasant by his verbal acuity and precision in obeying note values, and the occasional touch of sympathy he wins for the character isn't out of place. Pernerstorfer's Alberich in the later operas provides a subtle portrait. Frick is an incomparable Fafner and Hunding, Greindl almost as terrifying as Hagen as he was 12 years later at Bayreuth for Bohm, and here in better voice. Poell makes a sturdy Gunther.
Every singer seems to respond with particular insights to Furtwangler's direction, as if realizing that the conductor might not ever return to The Ring—try Suthaus in the scene where Siegfried is left alone after killing Mime. The yearning, searching, elevated sound of the strings persuade the tenor to pour out his weary soul in phrases of impassioned longing. Then, immediately following, there is the conductor's magisterial account of the Act 3 Prelude, urgent and searing. For that kind of significance any veteran or budding Wagnerian will want this box as an essential supplement and complement to the CD version, Bohm's I hope, that he already has by him.'