Original Masters – Hans Rosbaud
Posted by: Todd A on 30 January 2005
I figured ‘twas time to hear another release in this series. But which one? Well, Hans Rosbaud is one conductor who I’d not yet heard, so I gravitated to the box. The repertoire was interesting, and that decided it. Unqualified success, mixed bag, or dog? Mixed bag.
I’ll start at the bottom and work my way up. Prior to listening to these recordings, I’d never even seen the name Boris Blacher, let alone heard his music. No real loss. The Concertante Musik and Second Piano Concerto from this contemporary of DSCH and Hartmann is pretty easy-going stuff. It’s tinged with some jazz-esque elements (I say jazz-esque because I hesitate to say it sounds like jazz in the manner of Ravel or Schulhoff), and never really offends. Oh, sure, there are some dissonant passages, but it’s all rather tame. Interestingly, I thought I detected just a whiff of Revueltas in the strings at times, though surely this was by chance rather than imitation. Other than that, not much is memorable. At least Blacher kept his works short, perhaps keeping an eye on Stravinsky’s famous quip about so many composers. Rosbaud leads the BPO through the pieces quite well, and I doubt a better advocate could be found. I doubt another will be found. It’s not awful music; it’s mediocre music.
A mere rung up the quality ladder finds Rachmaninov’s Second Piano Concerto with Julian von Karolyi tickling the ivories. Perhaps it’s because I heard this recording so soon after hearing Zimerman’s, or perhaps it’s because I don’t value this piece too highly, but whatever the reason, I found it wanting. My only prior experience with Karolyi was in a promising but botched Arkadia transfer of some his Chopin, and from the sound of both discs, he is more comfortable playing the Pole’s music. He handles the most daunting passages well enough, but he never makes this an exercise in overtly melodramatic romanticism. That’s a good thing I suppose. Rosbaud leads the Munich Philharmonic in a lean, well-controlled performance that brings out a few moments of beauty while never allowing it to turn to mush.
Next are his Sibelius recordings. The entire third disc is given over to the same program as the DG Originals release, and all I can say is that I’m glad I got the disc at bargain price. Compared to my favorite Sibelians – Ashkenazy, Bernstein, Beecham – Rosbaud never seems to really get inside the music. His Finlandia is well executed, but where are the spine tingling moments in this nationalist gem? Throughout most of the other pieces – Valse triste, Festivo (Op 25/3), the Karelia Suite, Tapiola – Rosbaud has the BPO at his command, so the playing is superb, and still superbly clean since these were the early Fluffy years, but it seems to lack that indescribable something of better recordings. The Karelia Suite comes off worst, and even the great Tapiola is something of a letdown, though to his credit, Rosbaud evokes the winds of the great forest splendidly. The only really satisfying piece is The Swan of Tuonela. The sparse-ish, lean playing and fine solo work make this one to return to. But, again, nothing special.
Alas, the next work is nothing special, either. The 1961 recording of the Emperor with the great Robert Casadesus at the piano was one of the reasons I wanted this set. It did not meet my expectations. Nothing is bad here: the Concertgebouw play everything well, Rosbaud and Casadesus keep the work moving along briskly enough, never wallowing in the second movement, never overdoing it in the most heated moments in the outer movements. It’s just that it never comes close to achieving the grand, epic sweep and drama of this work. Very little is memorable. To an extent, I knew this would not be a great recording as this is not a Casadesus strength. His earlier recording with Dimitri Mitropolous on CBS is better, with more fire, but even that is a second-tier interpretation. The Frenchman is better suited to the C- and G-Major concertos. Nonetheless, I will listen to this recording again, it’s just not one I’ll turn to if I really want to hear the piece as it should be.
By this point, you may be wondering, what good is this set? Well, I’ll tell you: the Mozart, Haydn, Berg, Webern, and Stravinsky. The set opens with a 1956 recording of Mozart’s Fourth Violin Concerto with Wolfgang Schneiderhan playing the fiddle. While the thin, wiry sound detracts a bit from the performance (it makes Schneiderhan’s tone sound a bit thin!), the performance is excellent. The same lean, well-controlled approach that permeates Rosbaud’s conducting throughout is evident here, too. Everything is taut and clear, and if not as swift or springy as HIP approaches, it never sounds heavy, thick, or opaque. It’s just good, clean fun. Schneiderhan is definitely an old-school fiddler, but he is almost as good here as in Mozart’s Fifth Violin Concerto. I just sat back and let it wash over me. This will be played again. And again.
But probably not as frequently as his two Haydn’s symphonies: 92 and 104. The BPO, again, do not disappoint, delivering the maestro’s commands. Bernstein and Jochum both deliver superb late Haydn with big bands, but Rosbaud goes one further: his recordings never really betray the size of the orchestra. He keeps everything so remarkably well-balanced and fresh, that I was at constant attention. Though I’ve heard these pieces a good number of times, I felt as though I was hearing them anew, with some new insights. Okay, so maybe the finale to the London symphony lacks the last word in Hungarian flavor, but that is really my only complaint. Really, they are something. The thin mono sound doesn’t help, but ultimately it doesn’t hurt much, either. Some good stuff!
Since Rosbaud was apparently something of contemporary music specialist during his career, I was expecting some even better things from the modernist biggies. I was not disappointed. Berg’s Three Pieces for Orchestra come across in a remarkably direct, harsh, and unsentimental way. Rosbaud does not romanticize the music at all, as so many conductors have since. This sounds as though it is new, and deadly serious. This is certainly not a case of the performers being unfamiliar with the piece. The SWF Orchestra from Baden Baden, already under the influence on Michael Gielen in 1957, were well-attuned to modern music, and they were obviously well-drilled in this piece. Not a thing goes astray. When the orchestra must play quietly, they do. When they must burst forth, they do, almost in a collective rage at times. Yes, the Berg is something. So is the Webern Six Pieces for Orchestra. While the piece is “smaller” in terms of scale and length, it is not in impact. Webern’s innate quietude is never anything but enthralling. I was tensely listening even during the faintest passages, and once again, during tuttis, all is in place. These are both a bit on the uncompromising side – perhaps they served as a template for the young, fiery Boulez, who obviously respected Rosbaud quite a bit – but they play well even after all these years.
Better yet is the Stravinsky. Lucky buyers of this set are treated to two of Stravinsky’s ballets: Petrouchka and Agon. I’ll start with the latter. This is, to my chagrin, my first encounter with Agon. Good lord, what I’ve been missing! From perhaps as early as the fifth note, it is clear that this is my kind of music. Unique orchestration, sprung rhythms, serial seriousness married to early music adventurousness: it has it all. I sat through the brief work and just adored it. That undeniable Stravinskian flair (that his music sounds indelibly his own no matter the style is surely a sign of his true genius) emerges in all its glory. I must make amends for not listening to this piece; I must hear more versions of this masterpiece. Rosbaud opened my ears. The mono recording is again a bit thin (and the notes state it is stereo; if it is, it has the smallest lateral spread of any stereo recording in history), but such complaints are meaningless.
So that leaves Petrouchka. Contrary to the liner notes, this is the full score, not the suite. Once again, Rosbaud keeps the piece moving forward and never loses that rhythm. A few passages are a bit slower than I am used to, but they are few and never detrimental. One trick that Rosbaud and the Philips engineers pull off in this superb sounding 1962 recording is to make the orchestra sound as large as it is. It is rare to find a recording that demonstrates how massive the orchestra is for this piece (I still remember how surprised I was when I heard it in concert and saw all those musicians crammed on stage), but here one can. That’s not to say that the sound is syrupy or opaque, but when heft is needed, it’s there. Perhaps Rosbaud doesn’t expose every little detail the same way that Boulez does, nor does he achieve the same level of perfect execution that Salonen does, but this is still an outstanding recording. This is my favorite Stravinsky ballet, and I gladly welcome this newcomer to my collection.
So, another box, another mixed bag. The majority of the pieces in the set are nothing special, so that may dissuade some from buying the set. At its best, though, it offers some outstanding recordings that can withstand comparison to the very best. If you like the “modern” works in the set, I can recommend this box without hesitation. I’m certainly glad I got it.
I’ll start at the bottom and work my way up. Prior to listening to these recordings, I’d never even seen the name Boris Blacher, let alone heard his music. No real loss. The Concertante Musik and Second Piano Concerto from this contemporary of DSCH and Hartmann is pretty easy-going stuff. It’s tinged with some jazz-esque elements (I say jazz-esque because I hesitate to say it sounds like jazz in the manner of Ravel or Schulhoff), and never really offends. Oh, sure, there are some dissonant passages, but it’s all rather tame. Interestingly, I thought I detected just a whiff of Revueltas in the strings at times, though surely this was by chance rather than imitation. Other than that, not much is memorable. At least Blacher kept his works short, perhaps keeping an eye on Stravinsky’s famous quip about so many composers. Rosbaud leads the BPO through the pieces quite well, and I doubt a better advocate could be found. I doubt another will be found. It’s not awful music; it’s mediocre music.
A mere rung up the quality ladder finds Rachmaninov’s Second Piano Concerto with Julian von Karolyi tickling the ivories. Perhaps it’s because I heard this recording so soon after hearing Zimerman’s, or perhaps it’s because I don’t value this piece too highly, but whatever the reason, I found it wanting. My only prior experience with Karolyi was in a promising but botched Arkadia transfer of some his Chopin, and from the sound of both discs, he is more comfortable playing the Pole’s music. He handles the most daunting passages well enough, but he never makes this an exercise in overtly melodramatic romanticism. That’s a good thing I suppose. Rosbaud leads the Munich Philharmonic in a lean, well-controlled performance that brings out a few moments of beauty while never allowing it to turn to mush.
Next are his Sibelius recordings. The entire third disc is given over to the same program as the DG Originals release, and all I can say is that I’m glad I got the disc at bargain price. Compared to my favorite Sibelians – Ashkenazy, Bernstein, Beecham – Rosbaud never seems to really get inside the music. His Finlandia is well executed, but where are the spine tingling moments in this nationalist gem? Throughout most of the other pieces – Valse triste, Festivo (Op 25/3), the Karelia Suite, Tapiola – Rosbaud has the BPO at his command, so the playing is superb, and still superbly clean since these were the early Fluffy years, but it seems to lack that indescribable something of better recordings. The Karelia Suite comes off worst, and even the great Tapiola is something of a letdown, though to his credit, Rosbaud evokes the winds of the great forest splendidly. The only really satisfying piece is The Swan of Tuonela. The sparse-ish, lean playing and fine solo work make this one to return to. But, again, nothing special.
Alas, the next work is nothing special, either. The 1961 recording of the Emperor with the great Robert Casadesus at the piano was one of the reasons I wanted this set. It did not meet my expectations. Nothing is bad here: the Concertgebouw play everything well, Rosbaud and Casadesus keep the work moving along briskly enough, never wallowing in the second movement, never overdoing it in the most heated moments in the outer movements. It’s just that it never comes close to achieving the grand, epic sweep and drama of this work. Very little is memorable. To an extent, I knew this would not be a great recording as this is not a Casadesus strength. His earlier recording with Dimitri Mitropolous on CBS is better, with more fire, but even that is a second-tier interpretation. The Frenchman is better suited to the C- and G-Major concertos. Nonetheless, I will listen to this recording again, it’s just not one I’ll turn to if I really want to hear the piece as it should be.
By this point, you may be wondering, what good is this set? Well, I’ll tell you: the Mozart, Haydn, Berg, Webern, and Stravinsky. The set opens with a 1956 recording of Mozart’s Fourth Violin Concerto with Wolfgang Schneiderhan playing the fiddle. While the thin, wiry sound detracts a bit from the performance (it makes Schneiderhan’s tone sound a bit thin!), the performance is excellent. The same lean, well-controlled approach that permeates Rosbaud’s conducting throughout is evident here, too. Everything is taut and clear, and if not as swift or springy as HIP approaches, it never sounds heavy, thick, or opaque. It’s just good, clean fun. Schneiderhan is definitely an old-school fiddler, but he is almost as good here as in Mozart’s Fifth Violin Concerto. I just sat back and let it wash over me. This will be played again. And again.
But probably not as frequently as his two Haydn’s symphonies: 92 and 104. The BPO, again, do not disappoint, delivering the maestro’s commands. Bernstein and Jochum both deliver superb late Haydn with big bands, but Rosbaud goes one further: his recordings never really betray the size of the orchestra. He keeps everything so remarkably well-balanced and fresh, that I was at constant attention. Though I’ve heard these pieces a good number of times, I felt as though I was hearing them anew, with some new insights. Okay, so maybe the finale to the London symphony lacks the last word in Hungarian flavor, but that is really my only complaint. Really, they are something. The thin mono sound doesn’t help, but ultimately it doesn’t hurt much, either. Some good stuff!
Since Rosbaud was apparently something of contemporary music specialist during his career, I was expecting some even better things from the modernist biggies. I was not disappointed. Berg’s Three Pieces for Orchestra come across in a remarkably direct, harsh, and unsentimental way. Rosbaud does not romanticize the music at all, as so many conductors have since. This sounds as though it is new, and deadly serious. This is certainly not a case of the performers being unfamiliar with the piece. The SWF Orchestra from Baden Baden, already under the influence on Michael Gielen in 1957, were well-attuned to modern music, and they were obviously well-drilled in this piece. Not a thing goes astray. When the orchestra must play quietly, they do. When they must burst forth, they do, almost in a collective rage at times. Yes, the Berg is something. So is the Webern Six Pieces for Orchestra. While the piece is “smaller” in terms of scale and length, it is not in impact. Webern’s innate quietude is never anything but enthralling. I was tensely listening even during the faintest passages, and once again, during tuttis, all is in place. These are both a bit on the uncompromising side – perhaps they served as a template for the young, fiery Boulez, who obviously respected Rosbaud quite a bit – but they play well even after all these years.
Better yet is the Stravinsky. Lucky buyers of this set are treated to two of Stravinsky’s ballets: Petrouchka and Agon. I’ll start with the latter. This is, to my chagrin, my first encounter with Agon. Good lord, what I’ve been missing! From perhaps as early as the fifth note, it is clear that this is my kind of music. Unique orchestration, sprung rhythms, serial seriousness married to early music adventurousness: it has it all. I sat through the brief work and just adored it. That undeniable Stravinskian flair (that his music sounds indelibly his own no matter the style is surely a sign of his true genius) emerges in all its glory. I must make amends for not listening to this piece; I must hear more versions of this masterpiece. Rosbaud opened my ears. The mono recording is again a bit thin (and the notes state it is stereo; if it is, it has the smallest lateral spread of any stereo recording in history), but such complaints are meaningless.
So that leaves Petrouchka. Contrary to the liner notes, this is the full score, not the suite. Once again, Rosbaud keeps the piece moving forward and never loses that rhythm. A few passages are a bit slower than I am used to, but they are few and never detrimental. One trick that Rosbaud and the Philips engineers pull off in this superb sounding 1962 recording is to make the orchestra sound as large as it is. It is rare to find a recording that demonstrates how massive the orchestra is for this piece (I still remember how surprised I was when I heard it in concert and saw all those musicians crammed on stage), but here one can. That’s not to say that the sound is syrupy or opaque, but when heft is needed, it’s there. Perhaps Rosbaud doesn’t expose every little detail the same way that Boulez does, nor does he achieve the same level of perfect execution that Salonen does, but this is still an outstanding recording. This is my favorite Stravinsky ballet, and I gladly welcome this newcomer to my collection.
So, another box, another mixed bag. The majority of the pieces in the set are nothing special, so that may dissuade some from buying the set. At its best, though, it offers some outstanding recordings that can withstand comparison to the very best. If you like the “modern” works in the set, I can recommend this box without hesitation. I’m certainly glad I got it.