Almost every non-vocal classical record collection in the 1930s included some of Toscanini's recordings with the Philharmonic Symphony Orchestra of New York. They were the classical orchestral records of their day, and were universally admired. Fifty years on they still make an enormous impact. In general they have more freedom of spirit than his later recordings with the NBC SO. All the terrific tension and drive of a Toscanini performance is there, but tempered at this stage with a rare lyricism and beauty of phrase.
Play the Traviata Preludes and hear how the New York strings speak with an extraordinary depth of feeling and richness of tone; listen to the serene, exquisitely tender way in which conductor and flute soloist float the ''Dance of the Blessed Spirits''—this was the other side of Toscanini's genius. The Clock Symphony is remarkable for its clarity and poise, and in the Haffner he even allows a little rubato in the first movement, though in general this is another finely proportioned, elegant performance. Dukas's scherzo is taken at breakneck speed, but there is still room for the most finely sculpted turns of phrase and telling changes of pulse—even now, when superlative orchestral playing is commonplace this performance seems a miracle of refined, flexible virtuosity, and how extraordinary it must have seemed 60 years ago. No less breathtaking is the later Mendelssohn Scherzo, where Toscanini makes the orchestra play softly and lightly but with amazing brilliance nevertheless. Rossini's Il barbiere di Siviglia has an abundance of wit, elegance and zest: here again Toscanini phrases the music in the most artful fashion and makes the orchestra play like men possessed.
The recordings I have so far mentioned comprise the conductor's 1929 series for Victor. Three years earlier he had had a brief flirtation with the Brunswick company, making just the two Mendelssohn sides. These comparatively cautious performances do not really add to our knowledge of Toscanini and they are difficult to find in their original 78rpm form, but Pearl were right to include them as part of a complete survey of his New York recordings. The 1929 series did nothing to change the great conductor's aversion to making records, and it was not until 1936 that Victor persuaded him to record again. In the meantime efforts had been made to record him in live performance, and these he always rejected. But somehow test pressings of a Beethoven Fifth Symphony from 1933 have survived and are included here. It is an enormously powerful, direct performance, full of fire and passion.
The plum of the 1936 Victor sessions is surely Beethoven's Seventh Symphony, a performance of miraculous clarity, expressive force and explosive, titanic rhythm. Many judges feel, I think rightly, that this is the greatest ever recording of the symphony, and once heard it stays in the mind permanently as the yardstick for other and lesser interpretations. Rossini's Semiramide and Italiana in Algeri Overtures are given superlative, vivacious performances too, and the Wagner opera excerpts have magisterial force and drama—though the Siegfried Idyll has a tender, lyrical quality. In some of the faster sections of Brahms's Haydn Variations Toscanini does press the music onwards a little too impatiently. Here there is a rare example of fallibility in these performances.
If only I could now say that Pearl's transfer engineering is up to its usual high standard, but alas that isn't the case. At its best the sound is tonally very good and full-bodied, but there is evidence of computerized filtering throughout the set in a general coarseness and unevenness of the sound image, where continual sampling results in rapid changes in the nature of the signal: the slow movement of Beethoven's Fifth and the beginning of the Clock Symphony show this fault clearly. And in quieter music the filtering eats into the recording's ambience, so that the orchestra seem not to be playing quietly in a constant acoustic but to have retreated to some point in the distance. I played my original Italiana in Algeri 78 rpm disc as a check and obtained a much clearer and more truthful sound than on the new transfer. No such problems afflict the new EMI References release, which enjoys remarkably vivid sound for 1935. It's a pity that EMI have seen fit to reissue La mer again, even though it is a wonderful performance, since interested collectors will already have it on the recent Great Recordings of the Century issue, where it is coupled with Elgar's Enigma Variations. But 48 minutes of previously unissued Wagner compensate. Having exercised my supply of superlatives over Toscanini's New York series I find it difficult to serve these BBC performances adequately. The Parsifal excerpts have an extraordinary, glowing intensity of feeling. As at Bayreuth in 1931 Toscanini takes the music slowly and seems to revel in its beauties so much that he is almost reluctant to move on. The Gotterdammerung excerpts have extraordinary atmosphere and depth of feeling and even the Faust Overture seems a work of rare beauty and drama in Toscanini's hands. Here is a treasure trove indeed.'