Edition Ferenc Fricsay Vol. VII = MOZART: Symphony No. 29 in A Major, K. 201; Symphony No. 39 in E-flat Major, K. 543; Symphony No. 40 in G Minor, K. 550 – RIAS Symphonie Orchester/Ferenc Fricsay
Audite 95.596, 79:44 [Distrib. by Albany] ****:
Live and studio recordings from the RIAS archives featuring Ferenc Fricsay (1914-1963) in his beloved Mozart, 1950-1952, in excellent sound. A fervent Mozart interpreter, Fricsay eschewed the “merely” graceful and weightless image of the composer for a passionate, throaty, and intensely lyrical sound that did not cover over the audacious harmonic language of this arch-dramatist. The singing melodic line became a vital element in Fricsay’s rendering of Mozart, once his ensemble had mastered the “mechanissimo” of technical delivery.
Only in the live A Major Symphony No. 29 from Salzburg 1774 (31 May 1955) do I find cause for complaint: like Beecham, Fricsay takes the Allegro moderato too slowly, and his marcato treatment loses the aerial velocity that Cantelli’s EMI recording delivers in spades. The Andante enjoys, however, a clarity of detail and ’romantic’ ardor that lift the melos to the stage of Cosi fan tutte. The sculpting of the string line, particularly, adds a sonorous dimension that underlines the woodwinds’ plaints with a palpably mystical feeling. The thickened texture of the Menuetto, too, presents us something other than a pleasant galanterie. A creamy, almost arduous languor inhabits the Trio section, and the outer section assumes a tragic hue. So, the Allegro con spirito finale projects less a carefree feeling for the hunt than a resolution of forces whose grip threatens to tear us emotionally.
The grand scale of the E-flat Symphony from a studio performance (3 May 1950), from its opening colossi, indicate that we are embarked on a melodic course marked by what Maria Stader called “a series of elements with differing degrees of tension, easing and coloring.” The molding of the melodic phraseology proves both robust and incisive, a driving, richly layered and propulsive set of energies presented in huge, rhetorical arches. Listen to that grinding cello line and glissando just below the surface of the melody for a taste of the ‘subliminal’ Mozart. Fricsay takes the repeat to remind us that this symphony is Mozart’s Eroica. The smoothness of the Mannheim rocket figures astonish, and the cleanly galloping secondary strings, violas, and woodwinds qualify as virtuoso performances, a well-oiled machine. The expressivity of the Andante con moto proffers another haunted, tragic song, an extended lyric outpouring Schubert would spend a lifetime trying to recapture in his many lieder. The Minuetto has Furtwaengler’s dark girth, its poignant, affecting melancholy and nobility. The eminently Viennese trio moves from laendler to outdoor cassation with easy grace. The articulation of the last movement’s speedy Allegro again leaves us agape at the clarity of the bassoon, flute, and clarinet parts, the fluency of the string rockets, the whole gyrating and tumbling in epic proportions.
The G Minor Symphony comes from another live concert recording (17 March 1952), opening with the measured, concentrated vehemence of one who has pondered its churning, dark tarns of experience. The ritard Fricsay imposes on the tempo clarifies the inner textures, especially in the nasal oboe and pointed, supporting woodwinds. The first period ends with a deep resignation, and the contrapuntal development echoes a call from the Abyss. The lilting phrases droop into the recapitulation, where we hear Fricsay stamp his foot for emphasis. Something of the Gothic cathedral arises in the figures, a solemnity of spirit rare even in Walter and Furtwaengler readings of the G Minor Symphony. The Andante merely extends the processional valediction, the RIAS horn and flute parts luminous over inflamed, intensely etched violins and cellos. The colors, redolent of the pain and tragedy in the Masonic Funeral Music, align Mozart to the dark, sublime tones in Rembrandt.
Those spirits who “laugh but smile no more” may well inhabit Fricsay’s Menuetto, a rather fierce Allegretto of swarthy power. The second violins almost shriek, their figures evoking a cruel expressivity. Only the Trio offers the consolation of architectural balance, but the horns have their own dissonance. The quick-march repeats, often shimmering with intimations of mortality. The finale, Allegro assai, moves with that grim resolve Fricsay asserts in last movements, recognizing but eschewing any compromise with the forces of dissolution. This is Mozart conducted by Ernest Hemingway, recalling that man can be destroyed but not defeated.
–Gary Lemco
