BEETHOVEN: Symphony No. 4 in B-flat Major; Piano Concerto No. 5 in E-flat Major, Op. 73 “Emperor” – Edwin Fischer, piano/Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra/Philharmonia Orchestra of London/Wilhelm Furtwaengler
Naxos Historical “Great Conductors” 8.112025,75:38 [Not distr. in U.S.] ****:
Mark Obert-Thorn vividly restores two staples of the Beethoven legacy inscribed by Wilhelm Furtwaengler (1886-1954) in his postwar years in Vienna and London. The Vienna Philharmonic, Furtwangler’s “mistress,” and he collaborated on the B-flat Symphony 26 and 30 January 1950 in the Musikverein, Vienna; they would return to the score again 4 September 1953 with a slightly less expansive version. The approach to the first movement, despite its rather dire Adagio, moves in a relaxed manner, the transitions between phrases the soul of graduated serenity. The ensuing Allegro vivace–which under some conductors can become manic or demonized–radiates a jubilant self-possession, and even the sforzati impel us toward grandeur rather than startle us into awe. The innate warmth of response from the VPO quite palpably reduces the severity of the harmonic tension.
The heart of the performance clearly lies in the E-flat Major Adagio, which rises like Aphrodite from the pounding waves of pain and suffering. The elegance of execution makes us forget its rondo structure and its occasional descent into the depths. The diviso strings possess a haunted atmosphere to which the winds and heart-beat motion of the tympani respond with a sense of cosmic mystery whose answer lies in the flute melody. The rustic third movement exacts a compromise between minuet and scherzo, and it repeats the trio twice. The elemental pomp of the reading raises the figures to an operatic level, the churning figures in the bass a presage of the thunderstorm in the Pastoral Symphony. The last movement, a kind of perpetuum mobile, exudes a joyous sense of freedom, the ability to cavort among the stars. Strings, tympani and bassoon relish their respective parts, as do the other assorted VPO woodwinds. Whatever terrors come within the purview of this synoptic vision, the final assessment claims life as a Divine Comedy, a world redeemed by the power of music itself.
Basel-born Edwin Fischer (1886-1960) is an exact contemporary of Furtwaengler, and they shared a common musical and humanistic vision. Their 9 and 20 February 1951 collaboration in the Emperor Concerto has already had CD incarnation (EMI CDM 7610052; reissued as 574800), though the new transfer brightens the sonic patina, bringing the Philharmonia brass into trenchant relief. The Furtwaengler contribution proves quite volatile, and those who expect some drag in the first movement tutti will be promptly disabused. It is Fischer, rather, who slows the tempo and exults in the scale figures and running filigree that so light up this towering movement. A pupil of the Leschetizky school, Fischer lavishes immovable nuances on his tonal palette, and the dappled staccatti in his hands convey both agility and power. Besides the exuberant power endemic to Beethoven, the collaboration finds wonderful moments of instrumental intimacy, especially as the woodwinds shade and echo the plaints in the keyboard. The French horn work–and we can assume Dennis Brain and Alan Civil are the principals–supports Fischer with resonant clarity, and the occasional colloquy of piano and reduced forces plays like exalted chamber music. The grand leisure the two musical titans achieve by the coda testifies to a monumental sense of scale that imbues every bar with aristocratic nobility.
For pure mystique in Beethoven, Furtwaengler’s opening to the B Major Adagio un poco mosso marks a touchstone for interpretation and sensitivity of response between him and his soloist. Fischer’s non-percussive application of the ensuing variants, his winged trill, his breathed phrase-lengths, each contribute to a magical effect, moving with poetic confidence to the B-flat that announces the start of the jubilant 6/8 Rondo movement. Each of the Rondo’s seven sections enjoys a rollicking, Rabelaisian humor and liquid digital finesse, making us re-evaluate assessments of Fischer that fault his technique. The sense that Beethoven has organized a series of accompanied cadenzas permeates the conception, whose colossal leisure astounds us amidst the illusion of Dionysiac abandon. One of the essentials, this disc.
— Gary Lemco
