BRUCKNER: Symphony No. 7 in E Major; WAGNER: Prelude to Act I of Die Meistersinger von Nuernberg – Bavarian Radio-Symphony Orchestra/RAI Turin Radio-Symphony (Wagner)/Otto Klemperer
MediciArts MM030-2, 70:09 [Distrib. by Naxos] ****:
The Bruckner 7th Symphony of 12 April 1956 finds Otto Klemperer in lithe, optimistic spirits, at the helm of the Bavarian Radio-Symphony, an ensemble already well versed in the Bruckner tradition through the efforts of Eugen Jochum. Not so fleet as his period readings for Vox records but not so coated with adamantine as his later readings of Bruckner in London, this version of the Nowak edition (from the 1885 Bruckner original) moves with deliberate grace as well as noble monumentality. The singing parts from the flute and assisting woodwinds complements the hearty stringency or deep urgency from Bruckner’s string choirs. The gradual evolution of the opening Allegro moderato’s final peroration and coda proceeds with smooth and ineluctable grandeur.
The Adagio–an extended elegy for the memory of Richard Wagner–basks in a grand and leisurely security of the Austro-Hungarian style, an arched cantilena of vivid, albeit staggered, power. The subsequent horn riffs prior to the minor-key, misterioso passages, accentuate Bruckner’s occasional forays into bitonality or amorphous pedal-points. The resplendent brass processionals certainly aim at Valhalla, only to be answered by the drooping, chromatic concession to human frailty in the strings. Klemperer articulates the moments of counterpoint with a clear, steady pulse, with etched delineation of the deep, bass lines. Classically layered, the orchestral stretti achieve a rich, reverberant moment of the Empyrean before the procession alludes to the Twilight of the Gods.
Alternately militant and bucolic, the Scherzo moves with sinewy athleticism, the tympani in constant motion against a restless sea of cantering, skittering impulses. The rhythm seems to derive from one of the many Schubert horseback songs, with passing concessions to Wagner’s Valkyries. The quick tempo Klemperer sets has us in the throes of the Finale almost before we quite realize how briskly the fleet woodwinds have moved us along. Only at the noble string theme, with pizzicati bass, do we feel transcendence imminent, its mute repetition with French horns and high flute invoking visions from the roof of the world. Horns announce the next period with crisp, sardonic authority, the opening motto broken up and faintly resembling moments from Tchaikovsky’s Hamlet and Wagner’s Das Rheingold. The contrapuntal agogics become quite fierce before something like sonata-form dictates the dotted theme return in the home key; and even then, instability rules as Klemperer drives home the parting of the mortal veil to a whirlwind conclusion whose last notes have worked up the audience to grateful frenzy.
Appearances of Klemperer in Italy often complemented his excursions to Hungary, and Klemperer was wont to program more adventurous musical fare, like the Shostakovich Ninth Symphony. This Meistersinger Prelude (17 December 1956) opens rather stiffly in the joints but the rich, symphonic tapestry compensates for the austere tempi. The pace does relax and speed up, the woodwinds finding some jauntiness with which to celebrate the singing contest. The trumpets usher in a devout sense of mastery, and the apprentices assemble with demure dignity. Nicely articulate trills in the basses, low horns, and contrabassoon. A vigorously monumental coda captures the festive nature of the music with the same authority Klemperer brought to his famed EMI inscription of Rienzi, still this author’s favorite reading. The Italians’ applause indicates they enjoyed every note.
–Gary Lemco