Conductor Fritz Lehmann = DVORAK: Serenade for Strings in E Major, Op. 22; KODALY: Hary Janos Suite; BEETHOVEN: Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 36 -Orchester des Deutsches Operhauses/Grosses Radio-Sinfonieorchester, Brussels (Beethoven)/Fritz Lehmann
Historical-Recordings HRCD00036, 75:00 [historic-recordings.co.uk] ****:
Conductor and pedagogue Fritz Lehmann (1904-1956) made a career in Goettingen, where he headed the Handel Festival, but his reputation extended to appearances with the Berlin Philharmonic in the music of Beethoven, Brahms, and Franck. In the opera house, he was sympathetic to both German and Italian repertory. Lehmann did extensive recorded work in Bach’s cantatas and passion music; but because his premature death preceded the advent of stereo, many of his best inscriptions fell into obscurity. With DGG’s issue of the Brahms Requiem and Dvorak G Major-Franck Symphony coupling, this disc, transferred from 78s by Neal Kurz, proves a welcome addition to the Lehmann legacy.
The Dvorak Serenade for Strings (3 April 1941 and 9 May 1941) is a work to which Lehmann would return in a decade, inscribing it later for DGG (via American Decca distribution) with the Bamberg Symphony, along with two Slavonic Rhapsodies from Op. 45. Though not so innately lush in realization as what Talich would achieve with his Czech Philharmonic, the lovely interior lines benefit from the sensitive textural layering Lehmann could elicit from vocal ensembles. The second movement Tempo di Valse in C-sharp Minor illustrates Lehmann’s blending of color voices even within the relatively limited arrangement of strings at his disposal. The fortissimo C-sharp chord transitions us into the sumptuous secondary theme in D-flat Major, an enharmonic modulation attributable to the composer‘s admiration for Schubert. A genuine quicksilver Scherzo in F reminds what Lehmann would bequeath us in Schubert’s Rosamunde (with mezzo-soprano Diana Eustrati). The foray into A Major proves just as responsive, briskly moving back to the da capo with fiery relish. Like the Valse, the Larghetto allows Lehmann to adjust an extended singing line in plastic, tranquil phrases. The Finale, a spirited, syncopated Bohemian dance, keeps the violas quite busy, along with a series of pizzicato effects and ostinato counterpoint high and low. The Larghetto theme returns only to fade away, and the recap opens in rondo form. Suddenly, the Moderato returns from movement one, and we have come full circle, to end brilliantly on three diaphanous E Major chords.
The inscription of Kodaly’s 1926 mock-epic Hary Janos (16-17 April 1941) comes at a time full of dire prediction for Hungary, but the idiomatic reading by Lehmann gives no indication of external events. Rife with percussive and stringent color elements, the piece allows Lehman to exhibit his capacity for grand scope and sudden shifts of expressive texture. The Viennese Musical Clock chimes in transparent militancy. Lovely viola and cimbalom timbres mark the Song, a performance to rival the best of Fricsay, Mitropoulos, and Szell. The pomposo Defeat of Napoleon enjoys any number of ironic riffs and raucously exaggerated “Roman” effects. The virtuosic Intermezzo moves at a startling speed, given its rhythmic intricacies, the cimbalom and flute in full throttle. The last movement, The Entrance of the Emperor and His Court, likely owes debts to Rimsky-Korsakov’s Le Coq d’Or. Swaggering and heraldic, the movement alternately gallops and flurries across Hary Janos’ mental landscape, the blazing performance by Lehmann nothing to sneeze at.
The Beethoven D Major Symphony (7-15 April 1942) exerts a fierce solidity to the inception, and we might easily attribute its opening solemnity of purpose and later rhythmic resilience to Eugen Jochum or Paul van Kempen. The complement of clarinets, horns, and bassoons, in collaboration with strings and tympani, creates quite a furor of sound, and we realize how close in spirit this energetic work is both to Eroica and the Seventh Symphony. The lovely song of the second movement flows in uninterrupted reverie, and Lehmann indulges its every nuance in a most expansive realization. The wild Scherzo actually utilizes a five-note sequence from the first movement, and with its unexpected accents and dynamics proves an impish interval, indeed. The sonic image in this movement becomes a bit thin at the trio, but the fine intonation of the horns and strings redeems the sequence. The last movement, Beethoven’s Homeric harlequinade, plays fast and loose with motifs from movement one, now treated to masterly adjustments in register and color instrumentation. Despite the distance of the bassoon, the humor and excited tumble of affects still proves affecting, especially as Lehmann’s brisk tempo never falters. Distinguished music-making at every bar!
–Gary Lemco
