There are plenty of strong opinions touted among the booklet pages for this handsome collection, one of the most provocative being from Sergiu Celibidache himself who claimed that critics are ‘a parasitic profession with no right to exist.’ Had he lived long enough to change his mind about recording (for most of his life he wouldn’t as much as entertain the idea of entering a studio), perhaps he might have re-evaluated critics as well. But the truth of the matter is that these interpretations are the product of a singular – even eccentric – musical personality and no self-respecting commentator could possibly evaluate them as if alternative viewpoints didn’t exist.
Almost all the performances included date from Celi’s Indian summer period with the Munich Philharmonic, with a near-complete Beethoven cycle as the central attraction (EMI did its level best to locate a First and a representative Fifth is already available in their initial Celibidache ‘Authorized Edition’, 2/98). The first thing that strikes you about Celi’s Munich Beethoven is its breadth; the second is its internal luminosity (always responsive to the shape and placing of an individual phrase) and the third is that there are no first-movement repeats – indeed, none of the symphonies included here have them. Then again, it could be argued that Celibidache’s interpretative methods are so informative that even the briefest of expositions hardly need repeating.
The performance of Beethoven’s Second Symphony was taken from Celibidache’s very last concert (1996) and parades many telling felicities, especially in the Largo where the ecstatic apex of the movement is precisely judged. Tempos are leisurely and textures mellow, though instrumental choirs are both self-aware and acutely sensitive to surrounding musical activity. The Eroica’s first movement is easygoing and warmly textured, if hardly con brio. Celi’s sonorous Marcia funebre vies with the most powerful and expansive of Furtwangler’s, but the feel of the performance is quite different – smooth and lofty rather than rugged and dramatic. The Scherzo takes its time and the finale’s majestic coda is extraordinarily imposing.
The 1987 Fourth Symphony has an EMI predecessor in the 1995 performance that was released in the first ‘Authorized’ collection. There are significant differences between the two, not least in the Adagio introduction where the woodwind writing is more vividly arched in the earlier performance, and the development section, where Celibidache holds the tempo more steadily than he did in 1995.
Consistency of line and rhythm distinguishes the first movement of the Pastoral, and there are many passing beauties ‘by the brook’. The peasants make merry without hurrying (the Trio goes with a gentle swing) and the finale’s contrapuntal interchanges have an ecstatic ring to them.
The Seventh opens patiently, with Beethoven’s secondary string writing brought clearly to the fore and crucial wind chords appropriately underlined. There are no Cinderellas among Celi’s players; no one serves a merely ‘accompanying’ role and, although the main body of the first movement lacks bite, the dialoguing within it is quietly exhilarating. The remaining movements run true to form (the Allegretto’s peaceful middle section is notably well sustained), although I found the finale a little tame.
The Eighth is leisurely, affable and sonorous (not unlike Knappertsbusch’s various broadcasts), with a buttery Trio to the Menuetto, but the Ninth courts controversy by presenting a heavily emphatic Scherzo with a very fast Trio (a near-relation to more ‘PC’ readings by Zinman, Zander and Herreweghe). The first movement starts untidily but builds well; the Adagio is rather uneventful and the finale is an odd amalgam of ideas, with legato double-bass recitatives and some extraordinarily slow tempos later on in the movement. The soloists sound more convinced than the chorus, but I rather sense that this was not Celibidache’s piece. Leonore No. 3 has its moments, one of the strangest being at the beginning of the coda when the final rush launches on a single violin (just as well given some shaky ensemble a little later on).
The Brahms symphonies are generally slower and softer-grained than their Stuttgart Radio predecessors on DG (5/99), with the Munich Third proving especially impressive (the performance was given just two-and-a-half years after the Stuttgart broadcast). One major difference concerns the very opening, where the Stuttgart version startles with unmarked ‘echo dynamics’ that are played down – but not altogether eradicated – in Munich. Both feature an Andante that climaxes on a huge swell of string tone, though the Munich recording is more homogeneously blended (the Stuttgart/DG alternative is brighter at the top end of the spectrum but with rather less middle). The Munich First Symphony starts well and keeps an even keel for most of the first movement. In the Andante sostenuto, Celibidache seems to loosen his grip and there are moments where co-ordination between instruments starts to falter. The finale opens very broadly and picks up speed later on, but the Stuttgart performance is superior in virtually every respect.
Patience nearly always pays off in the Second Symphony’s Allegro non troppo, and indeed Celibidache matches the mood of the moment with an affable, relaxed and carefully voiced reading. Again, I found the slow movement disappointing, this time for its lack of expressive intensity. The finale hangs fire (a moment or two with the tighter Stuttgart alternative restores a sense of perspective) but when it comes to the Fourth Symphony there are many precious moments to savour. Best is the first movement’s reflective development section, with its fastidiously observed dynamic and tonal gradations. Celi draws out the cello and bass lines for the second movement’s central section, but he also tends to colour Brahms’s textures with affected dynamics (try the tiny diminuendo-crescendos just beyond 5'59'' in the Scherzo). The finale unfolds with majestic reserve until an interminably slow flute solo impedes the flow. The movement never really picks up momentum after that. If you already have the DG Brahms cycle, treat this set as a revealing supplement. The Munich Third strikes me as the more cogent alternative, but given a choice, my advice is to stick with the Stuttgart set.
Few conductors made a more humbling statement of the German Requiem than Celibidache. Note, by way of an example, the sense of gentle consolation at ‘So seid nun geduldig …’ (‘Be patient, therefore, brethren …’), 3'50'' into the ‘Denn alles Fleisch’. At 7'52'' Celi makes a special feature of the Beethovenian repeated wind chords (an unmistakable reference the Choral Symphony’s finale), but the most attentive conducting accompanies the reverently sung solo movements, especially Franz Gerihsen’s ‘Herr, lehre doch mich …’. Yes, it is very slow, though for most of the time you hardly notice.
As to the Haydn Variations, I have yet to hear a more probing account of the fourth variation (Andante con moto), or a more cumulatively satisfying finale. Here, Celi’s skill at keeping simultaneous musical lines on singing terms is immediately telling and the Schumann Second that precedes the Brahms (a late substitute for the missing Beethoven) is similarly rich in insights. The first movement Allegro enjoys sensitively terraced dynamics; the Adagio is slow and sombre but refreshingly un-indulgent and the finale’s problematic closing pages (with their potentially awkward transitions) unfold without the least sign of discomfort.
Listening to these performances has been a rare privilege, though a few obvious caveats preclude any ‘general’ recommendation. ‘Late’ Celibidache was famously reluctant to drive, heat or energize musical arguments. The force of his personality is evident more through the way he organizes, balances and phrases his material than through urgent reportage or spontaneity. His overall method was to ‘reveal then blend’, invariably at great leisure, and his interpretations should be enjoyed sparingly and selectively. Applause is included, but tracked separately.'