Opus Kura OPK 2059, 61:42 (Not Distr. in the U.S.) ****:
Voluptuously volatile performances 1929-1954 under the baton of Arturo Toscanini (1867-1954), famed for his brisk, transparent elegance in Italian music. The overtures of “Senior Crescendo” Giacchino Rossini, always elicit from Toscanini masterful control over the orchestral palette, the fine tuned nuances among the strings themselves as well as the molded phrases from the woodwinds, horns, and tympani. The earliest inscription, Il Barbieri di Siviglia from 1929 with the New York Philharmonic, surges right through any sonic deficiencies of the acetates right into the thermosphere. The string and wind articulations prove both lucid and needle sharp, the singing line straight as an arrow from Ulysses’ bow. Semiramide (1936, NYPH) stands in a class by itself for sheer orchestral bravura, especially at a time when Mengelberg egotistically boasted of his prowess with the Concertgebouw.
The opening flourish of La Scala di Seta with the BBC (1938) and its subsequent flute, bassoon, oboe, and horn parts sounds like a transposed Mozart divertimento; that is, until the plucked strings and new tempo transform the music into Bellini’s Oboe Concerto, then a sea of jabbing, happy scherzi. Only Beecham and his London Philharmonic can rival the whiplash exactness of this kind of musical display. A bit of an unhappy splice for the second side of this piece does little to dispel the aural magic Toscanini conjures up, the weighty tumult of the bass line which supports a dazzling array of treble colors.
The Rossini Sonata No. 3 with the NBC Symphony (1952) may well be the sleeper on this disc that manages to steal the berries. The suppleness of Toscanini’s legato line could butter the sides of any harmonic labyrinth. Rossini here takes several pages from Mozart’s Divertimenti, K. 136-138, adding his own, light figurations to a charmed alchemy that the NBC strings negotiate with sturdy elan. The audience outburst is cut from the disc, but we can still feel the electric sparks Toscanini bestowed them. The Vivaldi Concerto Grosso (1954) is the same favored by Koussevitzky, here rendered with a strong contrast between ripieno and concertino strings, the tug of war a thoroughly deft contest of harmony and invention. The long lines in the minor hint at several moments to Barber’s Adagio for Strings. Vivaldi’s own Adagio floats from on high, a fine example of the diaphanous tone Toscanini could evoke when his players felt the call. Old-style ensemble for the finale, the concertino in luxurious contrast with the play of the waves of tutti sound, alternating back and forth in dynamic tension the likes of which we rarely hear today. Still stunning musicianship even after 50 years – Seek it out!
— Gary Lemco
