Sunday Classics: Our Beethoven Seventh performances are connected the most obvious way -- they're by the same conductor

Otto Klemperer

BEETHOVEN: The Creatures of Prometheus (ballet), Op. 43: Overture

Philharmonia Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, cond. EMI, recorded Nov. 25, 1957
New Philharmonia Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, cond. EMI, recorded June 17-18, 1969

by Ken

In Friday night's preview we heard two extremely lovely performances of the haunting and powerful slow movement of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony, and I invited readers to identify the connection between them.

As our friend me noted in a comment, performance A is older and quicker than performance B. I'm not sure that the Internet-transmitted mp3 sound does full justice to B, and the sound really does matter, because the wealth of sonic color and texture our conductor is coaxing from his players becomes part of the expressive structure of the performance. It is, as it happens, a performance that's some 45 years old but that I don't think I've ever heard, for reasons I'll explain in a moment.

Let's listen again to performances A and B, with a performance X thrown in between them.

BEETHOVEN: Symphony No. 7 in A, Op. 92:
ii. Allegretto
[A]

Philharmonia Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, cond. EMI, recorded Oct. 4-6, 1955 (mono)
[X (not heard in the preview)]

Philharmonia Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, cond. EMI, recorded Oct.-Dec. 1960
[B]

New Philharmonia Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, cond. EMI, recorded Oct. 12-14, 1968

Now it's true that Beethoven's tempo markings throughout the Seventh Symphony skew quick: Presto for the main section of the first movement, Allegretto for the slow movement, Presto for the scherzo, and Allegro con brio for the finale. But that still doesn't tell you how to play the piece, which can only come from close communion with the music itself.

So, if you want to play the Allegretto of the Seventh like this, I have no problem. Because you're Pierre Monteux, bringing to bear your full rich musical sensibilities:


London Symphony Orchestra, Pierre Monteux, cond. Decca, recorded 1961

But it seems to me that there's no excuse, no resort to "authenticity," to justify this:


Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra, Nicholas McGegan, cond. Philharmonia Baroque Productions, recorded live, September 2009

It's not horrible; believe me, I've heard worse -- I just happen not to have ready access to worse, since I don't actively collect musical horror shows. The music is recognizable here, and is on the whole rather pleasant. But "rather pleasant" represents a huge sacrifice in music of such vast expressive content; at least 50 percent of the music's potential has been casually tossed overboard. It turns out that many listeners prefer the content of their music stripped to a bare minimum, trivialized to the maximum extent possible. I guess they're entitled to their preferences.


I MENTIONED FRIDAY THAT I'D NEVER HEARD ONE OF OUR
PERFORMANCES BEFORE -- IT'S THE 1968 KLEMPERER

I also mentioned that it achieved a certain infamy. It was, in fact, so roundly scorned in its European release that Angel Records, EMI's U.S. classical label, declined even to release it here. The impression conveyed was that poor doddering old Klemperer, beset by his famously myriad physical ailments, had lost it, and was just shambling along.

I don't doubt that the performance subsequently circulated here in various forms, on LP and CD, but I've only just caught up with it, in the Beethoven Orchestral Recordings box in EMI's new Klemperer Edition, which I gather is to gather together all of the conductor's EMI recordings. And listening to the 1969 Beethoven Seventh, I've been bowled over. I don't say that it's the "correct" way to play the piece, but then, I don't believe in a single "correct" way to play any piece. What's more, I doubt that many (any?) other conductors could pull this off. But my goodness, what momentum, what flow, what songfulness, what uplift!

You can hear the difference from the sonic richness of the opening chord of the haunting introduction to the first movement, and then in the purposefulness, even soul, of the interlaced woodwind interjections. Here are all three Klemperer EMI recordings of the movement.

BEETHOVEN: Symphony No. 7 in A, Op. 92:
i. Poco sostenuto; Vivace


Philharmonia Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, cond. EMI, recorded Oct. 4-6, 1955 (mono)

Philharmonia Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, cond. EMI, recorded Oct.-Dec. 1960

New Philharmonia Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, cond. EMI, recorded Oct. 12-14, 1968

From the negative reviews, I had assumed that the orchestral playing was less than ideally controlled; in fact, I've rarely heard orchestral playing of such unflagging concentration and purpose. The New Philharmonia players are said to have loved Klemperer, and for all the grumbling from all quarters concerning his fading powers in those last years, I don't hear any such thing -- the tempos of this Seventh are harder to sustain than more normal ones.

For how many years now have we been hearing how Maestro Jimmy Levine has "transformed" the Met orchestra into one of the world's greatest orchestras, and yet it has seemed to me arguably the world's least expressive orchestra, all expressivity having been drained from the strings and the winds having been reined in correspondingly. Yes, we get a certain measure of accuracy, but beyond that, for decades now what I've gotten is almost entirely a musical void. And yet commentators -- possibly even many of the same commentators -- routinely disparage genuinely musical, expressive playing like what we hear in the 1968 Klemperer Beethoven Seventh.

(It may be worth remembering that in those late years of Klemperer, when EMI was being as accommodating as possible to get him into the recording studio as often as possible, he did cancel a number of sessions for health reasons. I would like to submit the possibility that when he did make those late recordings, he felt physically and mentally up to it.)

Again, it's not the only way to play the music. Here, for example, is a performance we've already heard:


Marlboro Festival Orchestra, Pablo Casals, cond. Columbia-CBS-Sony, recorded 1969

But I am, again, bowled over by the expressive dimensions Klemperer heard in this problematic symphony -- problematic, at least for me, in that performances tend to fall in the same rut of peppy note-churning. I think an accurate estimate of the music's true greatness is expanded more by this performance than by any other I've heard. (And trust me, I've heard a lot of them.)


AND WHAT ABOUT THAT VIDEO BEETHOVEN CYCLE?

As a footnote, I would point out that according to the recordings appendix in Peter Heyworth's biography of Klemperer, the BBC has a complete Klemperer Beethoven symphony cycle, in color and in stereo, but according to the author there was no consideration of commercial release because the performances are so slow and lifeless. Maybe so, but I wonder.


AFTERTHOUGHT: KLEMPERER WAS ALREADY 68 . . .

. . . when the "early" EMI Beethoven Seventh was recorded. And the 1955 performance clearly reflects a lifetime's worth of experience of the piece. But clearly it continued to percolate in his imagination, and he still had more to say about it.

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Sunday Classics: "Good night, thou false world!" -- (final) exit Papageno?

"Good night, thou false world!"

PAPAGENO: Right, then, that's still how it is!
Since there is nothing holding me back,
good night, thou false world!

-- most of our Magic Flute translations by Robert A. Jordan

Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau (b), Papageno; Berlin Philharmonic, Karl Böhm, cond. DG, recorded June 1964

Or in English: "Fare thee well, thou world of pain!"

[in English] John Brownlee (b), Papageno; Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, Bruno Walter, cond. Live performance, Dec. 26, 1942

by Ken

We were just looking at Mozart's and Beethoven's exceptional use of minor keys for opening movements of symphonies and concertos, and one point I could have made more explicit is how frequently -- among these admittedly infrequent cases -- the "thematic" material that inspires such a plan is more "motivic" than really melodic -- think of Mozart's D minor Piano Concerto (No. 20) or of Beethoven's Fifth and Ninth Symphonies.

But of course the minor mode doesn't preclude great tunes, and I think that's what planted the thought of this great moment from The Magic Flute in my head. It's the moment when Papageno the lowly bird-catcher is driven by his loneliness to the ultimate despair, and I think the Fischer-Dieskau performance in particular makes it clear that Mozart plays this moment "for real." (Not to worry, we're going to hear the complete scene, er, eventually.)

As I suggested in Friday night's "double preview," "Enter the bird-catcher; exit Sir Colin Davis," we're focusing this week on Papageno, though as we often do, we're going to start with the Overture.


OUR THREE PRINCIPAL PAPAGENOS
AND THEIR DISTINGUISHED CONDUCTORS

Friday night, since we were also previewing future posts devoted to the late Colin Davis, we heard the Overture and Papageno's two treasured songs from Davis's 1984 Philps Magic Flute, and I mentioned that we had already heard the Overture. That happened in a March 2011 post in the "Remembering Margaret Price" series, "In search of Pamina in The Magic Flute," which featured a number of Pamina-centric excerpts focusing on the late Welsh soprano. I observed that Davis's Magic Flute is a pretty good performance but far from a great one. In the two songs, for example, you could hear that Davis didn't want to do them as mere burlesques, but there isn't much sense of what he wants to do them as.

Thanks to historic broadcasts and recordings, we're going to hear snatches of the Papagenos of such distinguished mid-20th-century baritones as Gehard Hüsch, Willi Domgraf-Fassbänder (yes, the father of the eminent mezzo Brigitte Fassbaender, whom we heard as Wolfram in Wagner's Tannhäuser), Karl Schmitt-Walter, and the still vocally vital Alfred Poell. But we're going to focus on three very different eminent baritones of the later 20th century, in important recordings of The Magic Flute made in the five year period 1964-69.

Walter Berry and Hermann Prey both sang Papageno a fair amount; Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau recorded the role twice but never sang it onstage -- he explained once that at his six-foot-plus height he thought he would look ridiculous as the bird-catcher. Prey's hammy play-to-the-crowd style is apparently sharply tempered by his conductor, Georg Solti. It's a curious fact, by the way, that one of Solti's early experiences was assisting Arturo Toscanini with his late-'30s Salzburg productions of The Magic Flute and Verdi's Falstaff; it could be just a coincidence, but he retained a close involvement with and deep feeling for both of these operas throughout his long career.

The folksiness of Berry's Papageno is also held in check by his conductor, Otto Klemperer, at this late stage in his life making only his second opera recording, folowing the Fidelio that he clearly felt had been hijacked by EMI producer Walter Legge. Klemperer famously set the condition that Legge couldn't particpate in the Magic Flute rehearsals, and Legge declared sniffily that under such circumstances he couldn't possibly produce the recording, and whatever reservations one may have about his remaining EMI opera (and non-opera) recordings, they clearly reflect his musical wishes in a way that the Legge-produced recordings don't necessasrily.

Finally, we have the glorious Böhm-DG Magic Flute, one of my favorite recordings, in which just about everything came together splendidly -- not least Fischer-Dieskau's Papageno, surely one of his most treasurable recordings. The voice is in great shape, and the artistic command is rich and deep.


ONE CURIOUS SIDELIGHT REGARDING
FISCHER-DIESKAU'S PAPAGENO WITH BÖHM

In High Fidelity Conrad L. Osborne took notice of the "otherworldly" experience of reviewing it in quick succession with his Gunther in the now-legendary Solti-conducted first-ever studio recording of the culmination of Wagner's Ring cycle, Götterduammerung. Since we can, we're going to listen to a snatch of the latter.

We pick up just after the ecstatic climax of the Brünnhilde-Siegfried Prologue duet, with the whole of "Siegfried's Rhine Journey" (our tracks 1-2), which transitions us musically to the opening of Act I (our track 3), where we meet the rather dim king and queen of the Gibichungs, Gunther and his sister Gutrune, in the company of their chilling half-brother, Hagen. (I'm sorry to say that given Gutrune's tendency not to be terribly chatty, it's awhile before she opens her mouth and in our tiny excerpt we won't be hearing her.)

WAGNER: Götterdämmerung: Prologue: "Siegfried's Rhine Journey"; and opening of Act I

Orchestral Interlude: Siegfried's Rhine Journey

Act I

The hall of the Gibichungs by the Rhine. This is open at the back, and a stretch of shore can be seen leading down to the river. GUNTHER and GUTRUNE are seated on a throne to one side, before which is a table with drinking vessels. HAGEN is sitting on the other side of the table.

GUNTHER: Now hearken, Hagen,
tell me, hero,
is my standing on the Rhine
worthy of the fame of the Gibichungs?
HAGEN: You, the true-born,
I esteem and envy;
she who bore us brothers,
Lady Grimhild' taught me your worth.
GUNTHER: I envy you;
you need not envy me.
As the first-born I inherited,
but wisdom came to you alone;
dissension between half-brothers
was never better overcome.
I speak but in praise of your counsel
when I ask you of my fame.
HAGEN: Then I must chide my counsel,
since your fame is still poor;
for I know of rarer goods
that the Gibichung has not yet won.
GUNTHER: If you keep them secret,
I will chide you too.
HAGEN: In the ripe strength of summer
I see the house of Gibich,
you, Gunther, still unmarried,
you, Gutrun', without a husband.

-- English translation by G. M. Holland

Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau (b), Gunther; Gottlob Frick (bs), Hagen; Vienna Philharmonic, Georg Solti, cond. Decca, recorded May-Nov. 1964

GETTING BACK TO THE MAGIC FLUTE, WE HEAR
THE OVERTURE FROM OUR "KEY" RECORDINGS

The leap between Karl Böhm's agreeable earlier Decca Magic Flute and this glorious 1964 one is startling. There are also countless broadcast performances, and we're going to hear a bit of a 1941 one. In the case of Sir Georg Solti, although we'll be hearing a snatch of his fine later Magic Flute, a more streamlined performance with a more homogeneous cast, otherwise we're going to be hearing the really lovely 1969 recording, with its peculiarly assorted cast, in which everyone has genuine credentials for his/her role but they're such a strange mix that you wouldn't necessarily expect to encounter any two of them in the same performance.

MOZART: The Magic Flute, K. 620: Overture

Vienna Philharmonic, Georg Solti, cond. Decca, recorded 1969

Philharmonia Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, cond. EMI, recorded Mar.-Apr. 1964

Berlin Philharmonic, Karl Böhm, cond. DG, recorded June 1964


LET'S LISTEN AGAIN TO PAPAGENO'S TWO FOLKLIKE
SONGS, AND TO THE DUET WITH PAMINA IN BETWEEN

In ancient Egypt, Tamino, a prince from a distant land, . . .

is thrown together with the humble bird-catcher Papageno on a mission to rescue Pamina, the daughter of the Star-Flaming Queen of the Night, from the clutches of the evil Sarastro.

At curtain rise, Tamino is in flight from a giant serpent. He faints just before the serpent strikes, and at the same moment the Three Ladies of the Queen of the Night appear and smite the serpent. It's at this point that the Papageno wanders in, with a supply of bird to sell to the Three Ladies.

The Magic Flute, K. 620: Act I, Song, Papageno,
"Der Vogelfänger bin ich, ja" ("The bird-catcher, thats me!")

During the introduction PAPAGENO comes down a path, carrying on his back a large bird cage containing various birds. He holds a panpipe in both hands.

PAPAGENO: The bird-catcher, that's me,
always cheerful, hip hooray!
As a bird-catcher I'm known
to young and old throughout the land.
I know how to set about luring
and how to be good at piping.
That's why I can be merry and cheerful,
for all the birds are surely mine.

The bird-catcher, that's me,
always cheerful, hip hooray!
As a bird-catcher I'm known
to young and old throughout the land.
I'd like a net for girls.
I'd catch them by the dozen for myself!
Then I'd lock them up with me,
and all the girls would be mine!

If all the girls were mine,
I'd barter plenty of sugar:
the one I like best,
I'd give her the sugar at once.
And if she kissed me tenderly then,
she would be my wife and I her husband.
She'd fall asleep at my side,
and I'd rock her like a child.

Gerhard Hüsch (b), Papageno; Berlin Philharmonic, Sir Thomas Beecham, cond. EMI, recorded Feb.-Mar. 1938

Hermann Prey (b), Papageno; Vienna Philharmonic, Georg Solti, cond. Decca, recorded 1969

Walter Berry (bs-b), Papageno; Philharmonia Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, cond. EMI, recorded Mar.-Apr. 1964

Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau (b), Papageno; Berlin Philharmonic, Karl Böhm, cond. DG, recorded June 1964


Tamino and Papageno arrive in Sarastro's realm . . .

and are startled to find that it's the Temple of Wisdom. Papageno actually finds Pamina, who commiserates with him over his singleness and assures him that he will find a companion.

The Magic Flute, K. 620: Act I, Duet, Pamina-Papageno,
"Bei Männern, welche Liebe fühlen" ("In men who feel love")

PAMINA: In men who feel love,
a good heart, too, is never lacking.
PAPAGENO: Sharing these sweet urges
is then women's first duty.
PAMINA and PAPAGENO: We want to enjoy love;
it is through love alone that we live.
PAMINA: Love sweetens every sorrow;
every creature pays homage to it.
PAPAGENO: It gives relish to the days of our life,
it acts in the cycle of nature.
PAMINA and PAPAGENO: Its high purpose clearly proclaims:
there is nothing nobler than woman and man.
Man and woman, and woman and man,
reach towards the deity.

Maria Reining (s), Pamina; Alfred Poell (b), Papageno; Vienna Philharmonic, Karl Böhm, cond. Recorded live at the Salzburg Festival, Aug. 2, 1941

Pilar Lorengar (s), Pamina; Hermann Prey (b), Papageno; Vienna Philharmonic, Georg Solti, cond. Decca, recorded 1969

Gundula Janowitz (s), Pamina; Walter Berry (bs-b), Papageno; Philharmonia Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, cond. EMI, recorded Mar.-Apr. 1964

Evelyn Lear (s), Pamina; Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau (b), Papageno; Berlin Philharmonic, Karl Böhm, cond. DG, recorded June 1964


In Act II, Tamino and Pamina begin to undergo . . .

a series of trials to test their worthiness for a higher consciousness. Papageno, never cut out for higher consciousness, stresses that he aspires to no higher goal than a wife to be his life companion.

The Magic Flute, K. 620: Act II, Song, Papageno,
"Ein Mädchen oder Weibchen" ("A girl or a little wife")

PAPAGENO: A girl or a little wife
is what Papageno desires.
Oh, a sweet little dove like that
would be bliss for me!
Then I should eat and drink with relish,
then I could hold my own with princes,
enjoy life in my wisdom,
and be as if in Elysium.

A girl or a little wife
is what Papageno desires.
Oh, a sweet little dove like that
would be bliss for me!
Ah, can't I find one then, amongst all
the lovely girls, who would love me?
Let just one help me out of my misery,
or I shall truly die of grief.

A girl or a little wife
is what Papageno desires.
Oh, a sweet little dove like that
would be bliss for me!
If no one will offer me love,
then the fire must consume me,
but if a woman's lips kiss me,
I shall be well again straightaway!

Gerhard Hüsch (b), Papageno; Berlin Philharmonic, Sir Thomas Beecham, cond. EMI, recorded Nov. 8-15, 1937

Hermann Prey (b), Papageno; Vienna Philharmonic, Georg Solti, cond. Decca, recorded 1969

Walter Berry (bs-b), Papageno; Philharmonia Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, cond. EMI, recorded Mar.-Apr. 1964

Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau (b), Papageno; Berlin Philharmonic, Karl Böhm, cond. DG, recorded June 1964


In the course of his wanderings, Papageno . . .

meets a young woman who would be his ideal mate, but is told that he is as yet unworthy of her. With no signs of approaching worthiness, he's finally ready to succumb to despair, intending to use a rope to put himself out of his misery. Which brings us to --

WHICH BRINGS US (FINALLY) TO OUR
GOAL: PAPAGENO'S SUICIDE SCENE

In the first part of the scene . . .

Papageno measures his desperation level and declares himself unwilling to continue this existence. However, he declares, if there is a woman prepared to look kindly upon him, he will spare himself. He gives his unknown rescuer a count of three, which he proceeds to execute with as much drawing out as he can muster. Tradition has allowed Papagenos to really stretch the count out by adding fractions ("two and a half") and units of time ("half past two," "quarter of three," "five minutes to three").

Eventually it's impossible to draw out the three count any longer, and Papageno, reaching bottom, sings the despairing lines we heard at the top of the post.

The Magic Flute, K. 620: Act II, Papageno's Suicide Scene, part 1

A garden. PAPAGENO enters.

PAPAGENO: Papagena! Papagena! Papagena!
Little wife! Little dove! My pretty!
No use! Ah, she is lost!
I was born for misfortune.
I have been chattering, and that was wrong,
and so I am getting my desserts.
Ever since I tasted that wine . . .
since I saw the pretty little woman,
my little heart has been burning,
with twinges here, twinges there.
Papagena, little wife of my heart!
Papagena, dear little dove!
It's no good, it is useless!
I've had enough of my life!
Death puts an end to love,
however much my heart is on fire.
[He takes a rope.]
I will grace that tree there,
tie my neck to it,
because life is not to my liking.
Good night, thou black world!
Because you treat me ill,
sending me no pretty child,
it's all over; I shall die.
Pretty girls, think of me.
If in my misery one of you will
yet take pity on me before I hang,
well and good, this time I'll leave it at that!
Just call yes or no!
No one hears me; everything is quiet!
So is it your will?
Papageno up there smartly!
Ende your life's course!
Now I'll still wait, let's say
until once counts one, two, three
[Pipes.] One.
[Pipes slower.] Two.
[Pipes still slower.] Three.
Right, then, that's still how it is!
Since there is nothing holding me back,
good night, thou false world!
[He goes to hang himself.]

Karl Schmitt-Walter (b), Papageno; Stuttgart Radio Orchestra, Joseph Keilberth, cond. Broadcast performance, December 1937

Thomas Allen (b), Papageno; Scottish Chamber Orchestra, Sir Charles Mackerras, cond. Telarc, recorded July 13-22, 1991


In the next part of the scene . . .

At the last moment, the Three Boys who have served as Tamino's and Papageno's guides on their journey stay his hand, and remind him about the magic bells with which he was equipped by the Three Ladies of the Queen. He chides himself for forgetting about the bells.

We're going to backtrack to Papageno's "one-two-three" countdown. (Note that in the Toscanini-Salzburg performance, that is presumably the young Georg Solti -- who conducts our later performance -- playing the glockenspiel.)

The Magic Flute, K. 620: Act II, Papageno's Suicide Scene, part 2

[Pipes.] One.
[Pipes slower.] Two.
[Pipes still slower.] Three.
Right, then, that's still how it is!
Since there is nothing holding me back,
good night, thou false world!
[He goes to hang himself.]
THE THREE BOYS [descending from above]:
Stop, Papageno, and be smart!
One lives only once; let this one be enough for you!
PAPAGENO: It's easy for you to talk; it's easy to jest.
Yet if your hearts burned like mine,
you too would go after girls.
THE THREE BOYS: Then play your little bells;
this will bring your little wife to you.
PAPAGENO: I'm a fool to have forgotten those pieces of magic.
[Takes out his glockenspiel.]
Ring, chimes, ring!
I must see my darling girl!
[The Three Boys fetch PAPAGENA.]
Tinkle, little bells, tinkle!
Bring my little wife here!
THE THREE BOYS [as they fly up]:
Now, Papageno, look around you.

Willi-Domgraf-Fassbänder (b), Papageno; Regensburg Cathedral Choirboys, Three Boys; Vienna Philharmonic, Arturo Toscanini, cond. Recorded live at the Salzburg Festival, July 30, 1937

Michael Kraus (b), Papageno; Michael Rausch, Markus Leitner, and Wolfgang Schmidt (trebles), Three Boys; Vienna Philharmonic, Sir Georg Solti, cond. Decca, recorded May and Dec. 1990


In the final part of the scene . . .

The bells, working their magic, restore Papagena to Papageno.

The Magic Flute, K. 620: Act II, Papageno and Papagena are united

We're going to dispense with line-by-line translation here, as the happy couple register their astonishment and delight at being finally reunited and look ahead to their future happiness and to the eventual coming of "a little Papageno" and "a little Papagena" and another and another . . . .

Erich Kunz (b), Papageno; Emmy Loose (s), Papagena; Vienna Philharmonic, Herbert von Karajan, cond. EMI, recorded November 1950

Christian Boesch (b), Papageno; Elizabeth Kales (s), Papagena; Vienna Philharmonic, James Levine, cond. RCA-BMG, recorded Sept. 1-4, 1980

THE COMPLETE "SUICIDE" SCENE

I thought we would add to our "key" recordings the English-language broadcast performance from which we heard a snatch at the top of this post -- with the crucial stipulation that our Papageno, John Brownless, is emphatically not one of my favorite singers. (Hey, I could have made you listen to him a decade later, which would be even less fun.)

The Magic Flute, K. 620: Act II, Papageno's Suicide Scene, "Papagena! Papagena! Papagena!"

[in English] John Brownlee (b), Papageno; Marita Farell (s), Helen Olheim (ms), and Mona Paulee (ms), Three Boys; Lillian Raymondi (s), Papagena; Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, Bruno Walter, cond. Live performance, Dec. 26, 1942

Hermann Prey (b), Papageno; members of the Vienna Choirboys, Three Boys; Renate Holm (s), Papagena; Vienna Philharmonic, Georg Solti, cond. Decca, recorded 1969

Walter Berry (bs-b), Papageno; Agnes Giebel (s), Anna Reynolds (ms), and Josephine Veasey (ms), Three Boys; Ruth-Margret Pütz (s), Papagena; Philharmonia Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, cond. EMI, recorded Mar.-Apr. 1964

Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau (b), Papageno; Rosl Schwaiger (s), Antonia Fahberg (ms), and Raili Kostia (ms), Three Boys; Lisa Otto (s), Papagena; Berlin Philharmonic, Karl Böhm, cond. DG, recorded June 1964

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Sunday Classics: What comes after Mozart's and Beethoven's minor-key symphonic opening movements?

What comes after the monumental, mysterious opening movement of the Beethoven Ninth Symphony, which we heard last week? At the link, Christian Thielemann conducts the Vienna Philharmonic in what seems to me a grindingly prosaic rendering of the thunderingly dramatic scherzo.

by Ken

I realize I should have been saying more about this amazing music we've been hearing, dipping into the two symphonies apiece for which Mozart and Beethoven composed opening movements in the minor mode. But really, when it comes to an incandescent movement like the opening one of Mozart's great later G minor symphony, No. 40, could I really have said anything more helpful than, say, "Wouldja listen to that?" And ditto when it comes to the opening movements of Beethoven's Fifth and Ninth Symphonies. I mean, we're talking here about two of the monuments of human civilization, and I thought talking should take distant second place to listening.

What we began pursuing in this week's preview is the question I raised last week: Where do you go from there?

My point was, if we accept that writing a minor-mode symphonic first movement is an uncommon and nervy thing to do, and is likely to happen only if a composer has been seized by some gripping musical material that requires it, where does he want to take his audience next?

Consider, for example, the most modest of the four Mozart and Beethoven symphonies we began last week: Mozart's earlier G minor symphony, No. 25. Let's add the second movement to the performances we heard last week of the first.

MOZART: Symphony No. 25 in G minor, K. 183:
i. Allegro con brio
ii. Andante


Columbia Symphony Orchestra, Bruno Walter, cond. Columbia, recorded Dec. 10, 1954 (mono)


Concertgebouw Orchestra (Amsterdam), Josef Krips, cond. Philips, recorded June 1973


YES, WE'RE COMFORTABLY BACK IN THE MAJOR!

As we are as well in the Symphony No. 40, though here it's a considerably more original and imagination-provoking Andante that Mozart spins. (Note that here we're adding a third performance to the two we heard last week. A lot of people prefer Bruno Walter's early-50s mono Mozart symphonies to the gorgeous autumnal stereo series. I thought this week we'd hear both.)

MOZART: Symphony No. 40 in G minor, K. 550:
i. Molto allegro
ii. Andante


New York Philharmonic, Bruno Walter, cond. Columbia, recorded Feb. 23, 1953 (mono)


Columbia Symphony Orchestra, Bruno Walter, cond. Columbia-CBS-Sony, recorded 1959


Concertgebouw Orchestra (Amsterdam), Josef Krips, cond. Philips, recorded June 1972

HERE'S THE WHOLE MOZART 40TH SYMPHONY

In the quite lovely prewar recording by Sir Thomas Beecham.

MOZART: Symphony No. 40 in G minor, K. 550:
i. Molto allegro
ii. Andante
iii. Menuetto: Allegretto
iv. Finale: Allegro assai

London Philharmonic Orchestra, Sir Thomas Beecham, cond. EMI, recorded 1937 (digital transfer by F. Reeder)

SAY, DOES THE SECOND MOVEMENT OF THE 
BEETHOVEN FIFTH REMIND YOU OF ANYTHING?

Beethoven too followed up his radical C minor opening movement for the Fifth Symphony with a major-key slow movement, a gorgeous theme and variations we might say is ostentatiously "major." In a symphony constructed of miracles, this may be the least noticed of them, but it's surely not the least inspired. And it's always seemed to me that this Beethoven slow movement has its roots in Mozart's.

I thought it would be interesting to continue with the lithe, dramatic Dohnányi performance we began last week, and since we already heard the second movement of Leonard Bernstein's 1977 recording in Friday night's preview (along with his 1961 one), we'll complement it with Sir Georg Solti's more expansive Chicago recording.

BEETHOVEN: Symphony No. 5 in C minor, Op. 67:
i. Allegro con brio
ii. Andante con moto


Cleveland Orchestra, Christoph von Dohnányi, cond. Telarc, recorded Sept. 20, 1987

Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Sir Georg Solti, cond. Decca, recorded October 1986

Of course we haven't heard Beethoven's answers to what comes next, which fascinatingly is a return, in blaring-brass mode, to the minor for the scherzo, and finally a return to the most triumphant major imaginable for the grand finale. I don't see how we can proceed without hearing the whole thing. It's a performance we've already heard.

BEETHOVEN: Symphony No. 5 in C minor, Op. 67:
i. Allegro con brio
ii. Andante con moto
iii. Scherzo: Allegro
iv. Allegro

Concertgebouw Orchestra (Amsterdam), George Szell, cond. Philips, recorded November 1966

WHICH BRINGS US BACK TO THE BEETHOVEN NINTH

Again, I should probably say something to help establish the scope of the achievement of these two movements. Wouldja listen to that?

I've chosen two live performances from London which could hardly be more different, except that in the end are they really that different?

BEETHOVEN: Symphony No. 9 in D minor, Op. 125:
i. Allegro ma non troppo, un poco maestoso
ii. Molto vivace

London Philharmonic Orchestra, Klaus Tennstedt, cond. BBC Legends, recorded live in the Royal Albert Hall, Sept. 13, 1985

Philharmonia Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, cond. Testament, recorded live in the Royal Festival Hall, Nov. 15, 1957


AND HERE'S THE COMPLETE BEETHOVEN NINTH!


Leonard Bernstein conducts the Vienna Philharmonic, joined in the choral finale by the Vienna State Opera Chorus and soloists Gwyneth Jones (soprano), Shirley Verrett (mezzo), Plácido Domingo (tenor), and Martti Talvela (bass).

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