Historic Furtwangler Performances Saved

The name of Wilhelm Furtwangler continues to be held in something like mystical veneration 35 years after his death. He is the ultimate example of the interpreter/re-creator perceived as creator, accorded at least equal stature with the composers on whom he lavished his extraordinary skills.

And the Furtwangler Legend would seem to be more potent than ever today, bolstered in the era of glasnost by the recent release of 10 individual, mid-priced Deutsche Grammophon compacts discs of material recorded live in Berlin during the darkest days of World War II.

The broadcast tapes from which these CDs are derived were spirited out of the Radio Berlin studios by the invading Russians in 1945 and not returned until the conclusion two years ago of negotiations between the Soviet and West German governments.

The recordings were made under minimally controlled conditions and hardly with posterity in mind. But some of the most viable interpretations are among the best-sounding: Sibelius’ “En Saga,” Schumann’s Cello Concerto and Brahms’ B-flat Piano Concerto.

The Romantic concept of freedom of expression pervades these interpretations. Furtwangler presents us with his notion of the thoughts behind the notes as much as the notes themselves. It is doubtful that any conductor ever delved more deeply into what his music was about. The results are, not unexpectedly, often unsettled and certainly more “expressive” than anything we are likely to encounter today.

There is a powerful presence here, overseeing and ordering (or disordering) everything. There is also a very great orchestra, the wartime Berlin Philharmonic, producing a sound of incredible depth and richness, even when, ensemble is not the tidiest.

Included are some performances that only a Furtwangler fanatic would tolerate: a Schubert Ninth Symphony (427 781) whose constant tempo changes indicate indecisiveness rather than inspiration (there’s a better, studio-made recording by the same forces, also on Deutsche Grammophon CD) and a heavyweight Beethoven Fourth Symphony which denies both the work’s wit and its Classical roots.

An interesting curiosity is the Schumann Piano Concerto with the nominal partnership of two artists who aroused extreme passions outside Germany for their conduct during the Nazi era, Furtwangler and pianist Walter Gieseking. Actually, it’s more dogfight than partnership, the pianist hell bent on tension and speed (in which pursuit his technique abandons him) and the conductor seeking nobility.

The coupling (on 427 779) is, however, a beauty: a warmly thoughtful Schumann Cello Concerto in which the soloist is Tibor de Machula, the BPO’s wartime principal, who creates broad lyric arches clearly inspired by the flow of Furtwangler’s leadership.

Rhythmic vitality, drama and songfulness (and a few dozen piano clinkers) mark the collaboration--a genuine one this time--with pianist Edwin Fischer in Brahms’ B-flat Piano Concerto (427 778). Sibelius’ “En Saga” is likewise splendid: menacing, thunderous, sumptuously executed. The companion pieces (on 427 783) are a sensuous (but wretchedly recorded) second “Daphnis et Chloe” Suite of Ravel and a mobile “Till Eulenspiegel” of Richard Strauss.

Strauss’ “Don Juan” is coupled with a jolly, unexpectedly brisk version of his “Symphonia Domestica” (427 782). And while Furtwangler is no more successful than other conductors in making sense of Bruckner’s Fifth Symphony, his reading has the virtue of lively tempos when one wants the music over with and expansiveness when one wants it to linger, as in the rapturous slow movement (427 774).

For the rest, there’s a coupling (427 775) of Beethoven’s Fifth and Seventh symphonies, recorded on so many different occasions by these artists that any attempt to distinguish among them becomes a chore; a majestically led Beethoven Violin Concerto, neatly, sweetly played by BPO concertmaster Erich Rohn, with a luscious “Coriolan” Overture as fill-up; and a ponderous Haydn “London” Symphony (No. 104) that would likely never have seen the light of day if Furtwangler’s name hadn’t been attached to it, with (on 427 776) a thick but amiable Mozart Symphony in E-flat, K. 543.