BRAHMS: Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 73; Haydn Variations, Op. 56; 2 Hungarian Dances: No. 1 in G minor; No. 10 in F Major – Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra/ London Philharmonic Orchestra (Op. 73)/ Wilhelm Furtwaengler – Pristine Audio PASC 585, 66:50 [www.pristineclassical.com] *****:
For collectors of performances of Wilhelm Furtwaengler (1886-1954) and especially his interpretations of the music of Johannes Brahms, the 20-25 March 1948 recording at Kingsway Hall of the Symphony No. 2 in D has remained problematic. Furtwaengler felt uncomfortable with Decca producer John Culshaw’s proven method of utilizing six microphones, opting for one, centered microphone that ultimately left a reading often described as lacking requisite immediacy, warmth, and clarity of detail. Andrew Rose, employing his patented XR process, has quite literally revitalized this performance, granting us a genuine, second chance to experience the alchemy that Furtwaengler brings to Brahms.
A true bucolic serenity arises from the LPO horns and woodwinds for the Allegro non troppo, complemented by a fervent and lushly resonant line in the cellos. Much of the opening thematic tissue will permeate the score as a whole. Furtwaengler does not avoid the darker, more ominous elements of this essentially optimistic music, that include the emotional insistence present in the three trombones in the development section, the grumbling timpani rolls, and the luxurious French horn that sounds prior to the coda. The allure of the major string melody – first revealed to me in New York by Bruno Walter – remains urgent and compelling. That the movement concludes with a light moment, dance hall flicker and humor does not escape the Furtwaengler vision.
Cellos and bassoons mark out the principal themes and contrary motion of the enchanted second movement Adagio non troppo, which once more grants lyrical suasion to the French horn. The syncopated winds and strings have shed their shadow we knew from the Ace of Clubs vinyl and the Dutton CD transfer and assume an aggressive, molten presence. The dark tenor of the underlying motifs receives its due, and the procession achieves a noble, valedictory hue. Bassoons and horns clearly color the often modal sensibility, ending with timpani and strings in an urgent, ineluctable monumentality. Oboe and pizzicato strings open the delicate, autumnal Intermezzo (Allegretto grazioso), which contains two trio sections. The sound has regained the robust, even eccentric, rhythmic thrust that gives the reading an Old World flavor. Furtwaengler imbues the opening of the Allegro on spirito with a sense of mystery before the sudden eruption of energy that flows until the decisive, D Major coda from pungent trombones. Andrew Rose has lifted what had been a most unfortunate pall from a reading that now rears its head and achieves a volatile and flexible momentum decidedly worthy of our renewed interest.
The studio 1930 readings of the two Hungarian Dances emerge vividly and eminently compelling. The gypsy swagger of the G minor Dance has a wonderfully free sense of rubato urging a sensuous passion. The virtuoso level of the Berlin Philharmonic proves undeniable. The F Major, for all its rhythmic quirks, enjoys an earthy, pagan bite. The woodwind playing alone warrants the price of admission.
The 1873 Variations on a Theme of Haydn derives from a Berlin Philharmonic RIAS broadcast of 20 June 1950. The five-bar phrases that mark the so-called St Antoni Chorale present as a rural, pastoral sensibility. The music then moves into syncopes of triple and duple meter and Romani excursions of terraced dynamics. The French horn part of Variation 3 shines. The oboe solo in minor haunts us in slow triple meter for Variation 4. Variations V and VI allow Furtwaengler an unfettered energy, respectively a scherzando and a vivaciously gripping call to the hunt. In duet form, the Variation VII contrasts high and low registers, a tender Grazioso that Beecham once declared as “Brahms at his most generous.” The Variation VIII comes off in the manner of Mendelssohn, in the minor mode and elusive, whirling in a kind of mist that might invoke Weber and the Black Forest. The finale, a ponderous but exalted chaconne, exploits the elements of the chorale that will serve Furtwaengler as a robust apotheosis, rife with as much nostalgia as it resonates with triumph.
—Gary Lemco
