The older and more 'historical' of these two reissues is the Tchaikovsky, recorded at Carnegie Hall on April 25th, 1943. That was the day, so the booklet reminds us, when The New York Times announced the launching of an Allied drive against the Axis Afrika Korps in Tunisia. Admission to the concert could only be gained by the purchase of war-bonds. As a patriotic gesture both Horowitz and Toscanini gave their services. And together with the auction of the manuscript of Toscanini's orchestration of The Star-spangled Banner, the occasion raised 11,000,000 dollars. Even without that background information, it would be difficult not to sense something extra special in the air. I think I can honestly say I have never heard a more electrifying performance of this splendid old war-horse—incidentally the work with which Horowitz first conquered the USA as a young man of 24 in 1928. Inevitably the sound-quality falls short of today's best. Instrumental solos—notably the woodwind in the first movement's cajoling second subject and both woodwind and cellos in the middle movement—are far too backward, while orchestral tuttis lack tonal bloom. But what matter in a performance of such shared vitality and immediacy, with Horowitz well-nigh transforming the keyboard itself into an orchestra with his burning strength and intensity alongside the acutest fingertip magic and lyrical beauty.
As for the Emperor, we're told that it was in this work that Horowitz first played with Toscanini way back in 1933—and during the preparation for that concert in fact became his son-in-law to be. Here, however, his conductor is the Hungarian, Fritz Reiner, in a performance recorded at Carnegie Hall on April 26th, 1952 with the RCA Victor Symphony Orchestra—who incidentally are considerably more fortunate in their recording than their colleagues of the NBC Symphony Orchestra mentioned above. This, too, is a performance of exceptionally high voltage, with leonine might and grandeur offset in the first movement by refreshingly direct, non-elasticated second subject delicacy, and a slow movement slower, yes, than the prescribed Adagio un poco mosso (crotchet = 60), but sustained with a rapt, unbroken continuity. The finale is joyously all-conquering. More than any of Horowitz's records to come my way in recent years, this one leaves me in no doubt as to why he grew into a legend.'