Wilhelm Furtwangler’s Vienna Philharmonic discography is an unpredictable mix of bull’s-eyes and near-misses, with a couple of sleepy symphonic performances thrown in for good measure. The majestic but under-motivated 1952 Eroica is no match for either its 1947 or 1948 predecessors and the 1947 Brahms First that Testament recently reissued (8/98) is quite upstaged by at least three live performances that were released after Furtwangler’s death. This particular collection is distinguished by outstanding sound quality, far better in fact than anything previously issued. Mozart’s G minor is more cleanly focused than on its last References incarnation (nla), and so is Schubert’s Unfinished. But while the former is tighter, swifter and more intense than Furtwangler’s live G minors (it also includes the first-movement repeat, which they do not), the Unfinished, like the Brahms First, emerges more powerfully via one or other of Furtwangler’s live relays. The Rosamunde Overture sounds quite different from the References transfer (nla), and for good reason: it is different. Careful ‘A/B’ comparisons reveal not only drastically improved sound on the new transfer, but a less precise opening chord and a broader-paced introduction. Rene Tremine’s Furtwangler discography (Tahra: 1997) quotes a 78rpm matrix – 2VH 7233-7234-7235 – that was apparently “never issued”, and I am wondering whether the older References issue used that recording and the newer one the tape that was subsequently issued. Anyway, ‘version 2’ – the one we have here – is definitely the one to go for.
The rest is a motley assortment, but no less enjoyable for that. Furtwangler’s Manfred vies with his DG account of Schumann’s Fourth Symphony (7/55 – reissued on a two-disc set) as being one of his truly great studio recordings: a dark, eruptive happening, full of fire and temperament. The three Weber overtures are weighty, sonorous and lilting, with generally measured speeds and a powerful show of brass (horns and trombones are especially impressive). Mendelssohn’s Hebrides freshly justifies Wagner’s admiration and Les preludes relates grandeur without pomposity. Haydn’s Surprise Symphony is malleable and easygoing, with no first-movement repeat and no tiresome reduction in tempo for the Minuet’s Trio. Gluck’s Alceste is haughty and long-breathed; Cherubini’s Leonore-like Anacreon masterfully built, and the other Rosamunde items have the same beguiling charm that characterizes Furtwangler’s earlier recordings with the Berlin Philharmonic (Koch, 4/92).
The Berlioz, Nicolai and Johann Strauss items are well played but generally unexceptional; in fact I anticipated a more lovingly indulged Kaiserwalzer than the one Furtwangler gives us, which is in fact quite jaunty and extrovert. All in all, this is a highly desirable cross-section of studio-recorded Furtwangleriana, though I suspect that a single disc of the three symphonies and a double-pack of the rest would, for some collectors, have made rather more sense. Those who favour mainstream symphonic repertory do not always relish the obligatory purchase of ‘bits and pieces’, even when they are as convincingly done as here. But if the programme appeals (it actually ‘mops up’ most of the Furtwangler/VPO/EMI material that is not otherwise available on CD), then listening pleasure is more or less guaranteed.'