The Last Missing Piece of the Kna’ Grail: Knappertsbusch’s 1955 Parsifal from Bayreuth

Richard Wagner Parsifal, Hans Knappertsbusch Bayreuth Festival, 1955 (Profil Hänssler, 2023) US | UK | DE

Dip Your Ears: No. 284 (Knappertsbusch’s 1955 Bayreuth Parsifal)

Kna’s long-lost Parsifal, the last one to await full issue, is now available. Was it worth the wait?

Parsifal-Aficionados had to wait a long, long time for this: The recording of the 1955 Bayreuth performance under Hans Knappertsbusch. An interpretation of primordial power, forward momentum, dynamism. A recording of vocal superlatives from the 30-year-old Fischer Dieskau as Amfortas; with Ramon Vinay and Martha Mödl at peak voltage. In short: One of Bayreuth’s finest hours. At least such were the rumors.

To make it even more tantalizing: For years, this Parsifal could only be experienced partially and unofficially. Namely only by way off an aircheck of a BBC broadcast of the second act. Adding further to the intrigue: The complete tapes were known to exist in the archives of Bavarian Radio; my colleague Klaus Kalchschmid had seen and heard them.

When said colleague Klaus and I visited the Wagner-discography expert Frank Schöneborn in Aachen, the latter – before putting on this aircheck as the very last snippet of Parsifal to listen to – pronounced: “Kna was at the absolute height of his powers here! And these singers… fantastic. It absolutely blows you away!” And this opinion was based on that old, wildly imperfect recording in, frankly, execrable sound. The musical instruments were hardly recognizable as such. The sound came and went. Everyone and everything howled; it was like listening to an old C-90 cassette that had been left in the glove compartment on a hot summer’s day.

Myth v. Reality

It’s a truism of record collecting, as any ionarts-reader will be aware, that the best recordings are always those that are the most difficult to source. Alas, the grail is ever only the grail in searching, rarely in finding. Now Profil/Hänssler has issued the tapes from the BR archives, at long last, closing the last remaining gap in the Parsifal/Bayreuth discography of Hans Knappertsbusch. Naturally you’ll wonder: Does the reputation survive the availability? Well, this much up front: The modest mono-sound of this release feels like high fidelity, compared to the BBC bits. The voices come out nicely, indeed. As far as the two dimensional orchestra goes, however, these tapes don’t begin to approach the vivid stereo image of the 1962 Philips recording. (But then, neither do any of the other Kna/Parsifal recordings, where every orchestra group – strings, brass, woodwinds – sounds the same.)

The tempos are, by Kna’s standards, on the taut side and similar to ’62; only in 1960 was he a shade less slow. In this, the recording is a nice and welcome contrast to the other (somewhat dreary) Knappertsbuschian Parsifals of the 50s. Amid the so-so-OK sound, you can also hear that, vocally, nothing went particularly wrong. Ludwig Weber’s Gurnemanz sounds a little taxed. Martha Mödl truly is at the height of her goosebumps-inducing powers as Kundry. Neidlinger’s attractively-evil Klingsor almost makes you want to switch sides, and Fischer-Dieskau’s Amfortas is decidedly not mannered, but fresh and surprisingly (given the character’s disposition, not the singer’s age) healthy. Ramón Vinay’s Parsifal, however, barks and lumbers, which is surprising, even if it actually suits the crude Parsifal of Act I rather well. Subsequently, Vinay proves, in lyrically convincing ways, that this was, indeed, a choice on his part. The chorus is more coordinated than in 1951, which, admittedly, is saying little. That ensemble would go on to improve, year over year. The Eduard Steingraeber Parsifal-piano, specifically made for the bells in Parsifal, sounds – how to put this… awful. Brash and not particularly bell-like, either.

This issue is a collector’s dream-come-true – and no self-respecting Parsifal-obsessed Wagnerian will forgo the experience of having and having heard this recording. For everyone else, it’s a case of “be careful what you dream about” – if you are among those, you can stick with your favorite recording of Parsifal, be it with or without Kna’, and know that you are not missing out on anything. (Jed Distler, over on ClassicsToday, likes it a bit better than I do, btw.)

The 1962 Parsifal Redeemed

As far as Kna’ and his Parsifals in general are concerned, that two-day listening session (and subsequent listening) have established quite definiteively to these ears (but also to Schöneborn, that the 1962 Philips recording is the best of all his Bayreuth Parsifals, and by a very wide margin. Not only is the sound in a completely different league from every other recording (which means that you can actually hear the instruments in the orchestra, as opposed to a vague, two-dimensional Wagner-like orchestral mixture), the orchestra and chorus are caught in much better shape than anywhere else, too. Also the interpretation is probably the most statisfying of Knappertsbusch’s, in doing well what he did well and avoiding some of the pitfulls that, on record at least, didn't translate quite so well... The singers are very good to good-enough: Only Irene Dalis will never be to everyone's taste; if one could airlift the 1953 Martha Mödl (Kna') or the 1970 Gwyneth Jones (Boulez) or the young 1985 Waltraud Meier (Levine) into this recording, one might. But Dalis is certainly not ruinous to the efforts and neither is George London, whose magnificent Amfortas adorns seven of Kna’s Parsifals (51 to 53, 57, 61 to 63) might arguably be 'least magnificient' specifically in this outing.

The second-most famous 1951 version, meanwhile, probably suffers probably most from direct comparison (entries are off, imprecise strings), but some of that has to do with the expectations it comes with. The same, ultimately, goes for the 1955, which is not, however, as bad as it might have reasonably feared to be, sound-wise. Something for the Parsifal-curious then – but if you are, you already knew that!

Knappertsbusch varies his tempi quite a bit. Turns out that his quickest, from 1962, is also his best, offering compassion rather than pathos. The ’51 recording sounds awfully grave and a bit uniform, with little energy. Knappertsbusch seems to start and re-start the orchestra over and over. At the dramatic peak, London is left to his own devices and when London passes his duties to Windgassen, the interpretation feels a lot slower than Levine’s, despite lasting just as long. The latter really brings out the augustness of this moment, perfectly timing orchestra and singers. A pity you don’t trust Peter Hofmann that he is quite cut out for the duties ahead. (Frank Schöneborn)

As a bonus: Below will follow a Knappertsbusch-Bayreuth-Parsifal Survey:

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Notes from the 2025 Bayreuth Festival: A New Meistersinger Production for Bayreuth

Also published in Die Presse: Bayreuth: Als hätte Monty Python bei den „Meistersingern“ Pate gestanden

A Laughing Matter: Matthias Davids and the Natural Humor in Richard Wagner

Bayreuth's new production of Die Meistersinger trusts the libretto and the music, to stage the work as the 'simple' comedy it is. That works, more or less.

Straight into the chatter and hum – as a good third of the audience was still trying to locate their seats in the Festspielhaus – the Meistersinger Prelude growled up from the pit. Accordingly, those already seated busied themselves with hissing “Silentium!”, which, of course, only made the racket worse. But that was somehow befitting this opera, in which art and populace mingle so merrily. Eventually, Daniele Gatti and the Bayreuth Festival Orchestra prevailed, and the overture flowed, very horizontally, as if without bar lines, almost “La Mer”-like. Thus the 149th Bayreuth Festival – following its open-air concert and the children’s Tannhäuser – was officially underway.

A steep stairway rising into the stage-heavens, crowned by the Katharinenkirche, greeted the attendees of Matthias Davids’ new staging. Love letters are delivered via airmail: Walther von Stolzing (Michael Spyres) stands amid a gaggle of paper airplanes, arranged to form a heart, and catching the latest missive from Eva (Christina Nilsson). Alas, the staircase is not conducive to the coordination of their reputedly aborted exchanges, as Magdalene (Christa Mayer) is sent to fetch the accidentally-forgotten kerchief, clasp, and prayer-book, because she could never get back and forth in time. The visual gag of lowering her book in a basket on a string doesn’t quite replace the comedic back-and-forth in that tryst that never quite gets off the ground because Walther simply won’t get to the point. A minor point, granted, but to some degree indicative of the production, which sometimes misses out on the natural humor in the libretto by replacing it with jokes, slightly more heavy-handed, of its own.

Prügelszene, Act II

The revolving stage turns to reveal the Meistersingers’ rehearsal room. Andrew Edwards’ set and Susanne Hubrich’s costumes could be 1800 or 1980 – timeless, pragmatic, supplying atmosphere as needed, and ranging from postcard medievalism to a relatable here-and-now of emotions. Eva wears her festival-dirndl as naturally as she does jeans and a summer blazer. The Mastersingers, meanwhile, sport droll – almost silly – hats straight out of a Mainz carnival club. It’s not the evening’s only tightrope walk between wit and slapstick, and depending on one’s sense of humor, it is where any given viewer places that line that will decide whether the night was great or merely solid.

The production – and especially the first act – brims with small gestures: buffet humor, smoking-in-the-toilet humor, seating humor: the flip-up-seats in the rehearsal room are the same as in the Festspielhaus, and they pinch one of the Guild’s members’ back, even with cushions. At times it feels like Monty Python had a hand in the staging. But of course, they are up to distracting shenanigans and side-activities, because the Meistersinger-lot is bored during Pogner’s pompous speech. Rightly so, I’m afraid to say, because Jongmin Park lets the role down. He has a big, deep voice, but produced a hollow, expressionless barreling bellow, paired with stiff acting that would have been better suited to a 1960s Sarastro.

The whole lot of Mastersingers: Sachs: Zeppenfeld, Pogner: Jongmin Park, Vogelgesang: Martin Koch, Nachtigal: Marek Reichert, Beckmesser: Nagy, Kothner: Shanahan, Zorn: Daniel Jenz, Eisslinger: Matthew Newlin, Moser: Gideon Poppe, Ortel: Alexander Grassauer, Schwarz: Tijl Faveyts, Foltz: Patrick Zielke

Wagner, if it needs reminding (and pace Markus Thiel), certainly had humor – just not exactly slapstick humor. His was a deeper-seated, slyly mocking Saxon type. It’s everywhere in this piece, not just in the obvious situational comedy of Beckmesser. Speaking of which: Michael Nagy sang him with a delightfully purring voice and agile but didn’t always seem to take the character quite seriously – a pity, because it defangs Beckmesser unnecessarily and undermines the dramatic tension. His goofiness baited laughs, which is fine, but often papered over subtler moments, too. That Nagy can do otherwise became clear during his moment of reflection and the accompanying flicker of seriousness after the failed song trial.

While act II – with an oversized half-timbered dollhouse garnished with a phone booth turned into a Little Free Library – extends the first act’s world, the opening of Act III breaks from the squarely romanticized half-timbered idyll. Instead, we see Sachs’ realistically outfitted workshop, a chic oval set, smack in the middle of the stage. Sachs is shown gluing back together the stool David used to wallop Beckmesser in the riot scene, a business that gives him plenty of time to ignore David. Again, Matthias Davids offers solid, craftsman-like ideas here. In strict adherence to Chekhov’s law of not putting a freshly glued chair on the floor if no one will try to sit on it later, Beckmesser will, of course, be victimized a second time by that rude piece of furniture.

Spyres, Zeppenfeld, Nilsson, Mayer, Stier, Act III

Singers: Thanks to the bright, spontaneous voice of Christina Nilsson’s, a touch steely at the peaks and garnished with a pronounced ‘accent-vibrato’, her Eva was consequently easy to hear and occasionally even possible to understand. The first comment about Georg Zeppenfeld is always: “like a rock.” And like your above-average rock, he’s dependable, solid, sympathetic – and, dare one say it, just a tiny bit boring. Pale-ish, but on a very high level. Christa Mayer’s Magdalene had good diction but little warmth of timbre; by contrast, Matthias Stier’s rosy-cheeked David was a sonorous, entertaining delight from start to finish.

The “baritenor” label for Spyres is more marketing flourish than unique selling point, but his first Walther impressed: lyrical, with a creamy fullness, occasionally caramel-tinged but never overdriven, all evening long. Had it not been for the Meistersinger production earlier that month, at the MüPa Wagner Days (English review forthcoming, German review here), which featured Magnus Vigilius’ Walther, that would have been considered top of the line. But the latter (who also turned in the most moving Siegmund I have ever heard, at the previous “Budapesti Wagner Napok” (Bayreuth an der Donau: Die Wagner-Tage in Budapest sind ein Geheimtipp), had that added bit of youthful enthusiasm and irresistibly charming Sturm-und-Drang air about him, that made the character even more relatable and the story all the more touching.

Michael Nagy as Beckmesser, Act III

Gatti conducted fluidly and with finesse – not something one might have expected from rehearsals, apparently – coaxing an exceptionally beautiful, wafting “Fliederduften” from the orchestra. He did grow ever louder in Act II, which pushed his Sachs to the brink of audibility, which might have been avoided: In this conversational piece, after all, you’ll want to understand as much of the text as is humanly possible. The near-unanimous, enthusiastic cheering already between the acts suggested that Davids’ idea (the director’s, not the character’s) – to simply let Meistersinger be the Meistersinger, after two cerebral, over-interpreted Bayreuth stagings, Katharina Wagner’s and Berry Kosky’s – made sense. Do not be mislead by the most-publicized picture of the production, which shows a neon-colored blow-up cow arching over the Festwiese, which has the halmark look of what some (misguided, but that's for another day) people might call a "Eurotrash" or "Regietheater" production. It was the very opposite. Some Bayreuthians may have even felt a warm Wolfgang-Wagner glow, during this appeasing, traditional production. (Incidentally, Michael Schulz’ seasoned Budapest production works along the same lines and does it even more successfully.)

The applause was strikingly friendly, but also surprisingly brief. Fair enough, because the production surely wasn’t bad, it simply could – and will – be better, still!

Michael Spyres, Act III

All pictures courtesy Bayreuther Festspiele, © Enrico Nawrath

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Notes from the 2025 Bayreuth Festival: Camping Masterclass and Macbeth at the Foot of the Green Hill

Also published in Die Presse: Partystimmung bei „Macbeth“

Wagner-Light – and not even that much Wagner

The free-to-all Open-Air Festival Opener is a welcome opportunity to combine Green Hill Flair and camping gear.

The 149th Bayreuth Festival has opened, but eyes are already fixed on next year: 150 years of Bayreuth – though, strictly speaking, only the 113th actual Festival season (39 pre-, 74 post-1951). The grand plan? All ten canonical Bayreuth operas plus, for the first time on the Green Hill, Rienzi. Reality and the treasurer had other ideas. So now the plan is a bit more modest if still unique, thanks to Rienzi.

Is that a good thing? Bayreuth doesn’t have to offer “unique” – it is unique. Tradition, simply by being tradition, has value. In fact, that’s Bayreuth’s main draw. Yes, tradition is constantly subverted here (which is itself part of the tradition)– but the frame of tradition ought to be handled carefully. If the festival were to start putting Meyerbeer on the Bayreuth stage (as people sometimes – unwisely, inexplicably – suggest they do), it’d be the first step toward the festival losing the plot and surrendering to the arbitrary. Opening the Festspielhaus to Rienzi, meanwhile, does no harm nor need it be the ledge of a slippery slope. Incidentally, the staging is meant to be a one-off, performed nine times, before being passed on to other opera houses.

That the team of Magdolna Parditka and Alexandra Szemeredy orients its production more along the lines of Wieland Wagner’s 1957 Stuttgart Rienzi and the 1939 Karlsruhe version of the score, rather than attempting some Frankensteinian “complete” version, is heartening. That the other production will be a so-called “AI Ring”, visually drawing on all previous Ring-productions and fed by cues from the ‘staging’ (as opposed to “directorial”) team, can faze no true Wagnerian, especially with Thielemann conducting. Granted, it sounds like it will be more likely “interesting” than “good” but worst case: close your eyes and perk the ears. A lesson learned from Jay Scheib’s Augmented Reality Parsifal.

Back to the present: the third Festival Open Air served as a warm-up act. The Festival Orchestra, “almost voluntarily,” took to the stage for this open-access concert at the foot of the Green Hill – right between the stage and the VIP zone/champagne tent. A few trees are in the way (nothing a generously ambitious axe couldn’t solve in the coming years), but people adapt. The crowd? Plenty of youth, musicians’ families, locals, and some early-arriving festival-goers. Cherry tomatoes, cubes of cheese, bottles of Kulmbacher beer, and glasses of Aperol were the currency of the evening. Territorial skirmishes – already two hours before the concert – were managed politely, amid a display of Germany’s native talents for camping, picnicking, and spontaneous order.

Atmosphere was everything – as it should be. The acoustics? Well, like at similar open-air festival in Schönbrunn, Munich’s Odeonsplatz, Berlin’s Waldbühne: decent under the circumstances, but only loosely related to actual concert music. To pretend otherwise would be silly, just as it would be pointless to measure such an event by the standards of a concert-hall performance. Pablo Heras-Casado, this year’s conductor of the Parsifal , kept the mood lively. Gershwin’s Girl Crazy overture brought out a “SummerStage-in-Central-Park” vibe. Beethoven’s Fifth (the first movement) thundered along with delightful furiosity. That the strings struggled a little with the evening’s humidity could be overlooked – the important thing was the oomph.

Three excerpts from Verdi’s Macbeth fit the Meistersingerian festival motto (“Wahn, überall Wahn”) – though the work isn’t exactly most people’s idea of open-air party-time. For that, Johann Strauss’ Thunder and Lightning Polka (“ Unter Donner und Blitz was far better suited: an encore gratefully seized upon by an audience whose joints, after four hours of sitting on the ground, were celebrating their own 150th anniversary. “Next year, better bring a chair,” advised a nearby, seated lady from her enviably comfy-looking camping gear – in a tone part helpful, part pitying. You live and you learn.
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Critic’s Notebook: A Dreamboot Rheingold in Vienna

Also published in Die Presse: „Rheingold“ an der Wiener Staatsoper: Ein Sternstundenabend

R.Wagner, Das Rheingold H.v.Karjana / Berlin Phil DG

R.Wagner, Das Rheingold M.Janowski / RSO Berlin Pentatone SACD

R.Wagner, Das Rheingold P.Boulez / P.Chéreau / Bayreuth FO Unitel DVD

A harmonious, resplendent, and thoroughly entertaining cast delivers a thoroughly glorious Rheingold at the Vienna State Opera.

That E-flat major chord at the start of Das Rheingold: every time it appears out of nowhere, it stirs something in you: a journey begins. And what a journey it is: a deceptively calm opening that soon gives way to one of the most brisk, action-packed, and downright funny operas in the repertory—two and a half hours that sail by in a steady current. Sven-Eric Bechtolf’s production has been on the books at the Vienna State Opera for nearly two decades, and yet it remains captivatingly fresh. The staging is classically timeless: each scene a sparsely furnished tableau that sparks the imagination rather than smothering it. Add a cast this breathtakingly good—as it was on Wednesday night (May 27th)—and the result is pure delight.

As always, all good things begin with three slinky ladies. The sleek, sinewy water nymphs—Iliana Tonca, Isabel Signoret, and Stephanie Maitland, in clingy green algae-gowns—formed a sonorous, well-blended trio that gave Jochen Schmeckenbecher’s convincing bad-boy Alberich quite the hard time.

“Deiner Hand, Donner, entsinkt ja der Hammer!”

A good example of the production’s thoughtful, cheeky staging: the scene where the giants pay their visit to the gods. Wotan and company strike picture-perfect deity poses—Keeping Up Appearances, Wagner-style. Or the moment when the spears of Fasolt and Fafner (Ilja Kazakov and Kwangchul Youn, dressed like the boulder-beasts from The NeverEnding Story) start heat up as Loge lays a hand on them. Daniel Behle’s Loge, in a performance that would have made Heinz Zednik proud, combined sharp-edged delivery with youthful zing.

Donner’s hammer, housed in a Swarovski-encrusted instrument case, still elicits an inner chuckle. That he was sung by Martin Hässler—fresh-faced, cocky, and with a whiff of Falco—only made it better. (When his hammer slipped from his grip—not in Scene II, as scripted, but in Scene IV—it caused a brief moment of audience amusement, but was professionally played off.) There really wasn’t a whole lot one could have wanted more, cast- and acting-wise, though Freia’s dutifully serious “Dünkt euch Holda wirklich der Lösung werth?” (“Are you certain I am worthy the ransom?”) might have benefited from a hint of sarcasm.

Wotan, head of the celestial household, was sung by Scottish bass-baritone Iain Paterson, making his role debut at the house. There have been louder Wotans, or nobler ones—but few as articulate. Paterson’s flawless diction, extraordinarily sensitive phrasing, and text-driven intensity were a constant dramatic asset. A strong match: Monika Bohinec’s commanding, penetrating Fricka—mature, but (just) not yet overripe.

Michael Laurenz’s young, wild Mime, decked out in a mechanic’s jumpsuit, was a casting luxury—proof that this role doesn’t need to be handed to a wheezy character tenor. If one were inclined to quibble about Regine Hangler’s sonorously squeaky Freia—more siren (the maritime, not homeric kind) than goddess—well, that would be nitpicking at a very high level. Contributing to that level of luxury was Anna Kissjudit, making her house debut. She’d already made an impression as Mary in The Flying Dutchman in Budapest; as Erda—earthy and with a distinct vocal hue—she was even more convincing and earned a round of special applause.

The orchestra held up remarkably well through it all. The scenes involving the Ring’s powers burst out with sharp, overwhelming force. The unstable-sounding brass during the prelude was submerged in the the surging musical waves—and soon regained their footing. The anvils, alas, clanged on irritably: too loud or too tinny—probably both. Philippe Jordan’s conducting, strict but ever-forward-flowing, was a far better fit here than in his unsensual Tannhäuser. One could argue about Jordan’s Wagner—but who wants to quibble after an evening like this?


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Critic’s Notebook: A Flying Dutchman from the Budapest Opera

R.Wagner, Der fliegende Holländer F.Fricsay, RIAS SOB DG/Eloquence

R.Wagner, Der fliegende Holländer F.Konwitschny, StaKap Berlin Berlin Classics

R.Wagner, Der fliegende Holländer D.Barenboim, StaKap Berlin Teldec/Warner

A Pleasing-Enough Dutchman

The point was to come to Budapest and witness the Hungarian Premiere of Nixon in China, but en passant it only seemed fitting to stop by the opera house proper (Nixon took place in a different venue) for a Flying Dutchman. It was celebrating its 140th birthday and, owing to it having been shut down for several years for comprehensive renovation work until its re-opening in 2022, I had never actually been. High time to change that, after all, it’s one of the finest examples of the neo-Renaissance style, a jewel among opera houses, perfectly sized (unless you want to make money with it), and now glowing again in its new-old splendour that had (allegedly) elicited the congratulatory grumble from Emperor Franz Joseph I at its opening that he “prescribed it to be smaller than the opera house in Vienna” but should also have “decreed that it not be more beautiful”. And indeed, it’s a truly grand opera house, all gilded, marbled, satined, and candelabraed. And yet just small enough to be intimate. (Far away enough to be ignored by the Western press, you’d think it’s the ideal stage for trying out new rôles for ambitious singers.)

So the Flying Dutchman it was. Earlier that day, a matinee of Carmen had already been produced… and apparently exhausted the Budapestian’s hunger for opera that day: The attendance was somewhere between “low” and “pitiful”, but certainly below 50% capacity of the roughly 1000 comfortable seats (fitted with subtitle screens) that the new post-renovation arrangement provides. What the hardy Wagnerians got was a fine Dutchman with some good singing in a production by János Szikora that means to offend no one or maybe just doesn’t mean much at all. The costumes (Kriszta Berzsenyi) are toned down, except for the slightly more elaborate getups of Senta and the Dutchman (a red dress and coat, respectively, with matching concentric yellow and orange circles painted on them) and a brief appearance of the Dutch sailor’s chorus as clunky papier-mâché zombies. Incidentally, that was the production’s only veritable failure. When the Norwegians call on, invite, and tease the Dutchman’s crew, their delayed, eventual response is supposed to be positively overwhelming. Various directors have come up with variously successful means of creating that effect. Amplification of the voices, as done here, is often among them. But then it should really be overwhelming. Here, it was an electronically distorted whimper that never got particularly loud and certainly never intimidating. A damp squib. The cowering visible chorus on stage was shivering for no reason.

Everywhere else, the production did not stand in the way of the music or the singing, which some more conservative audiences (for whatever that’s worth) might consider a good quality. The set by Éva Szendrényi is highly economical; two, three props (large ropes, a large frame, a loom) and otherwise it’s an empty stage, framed by frames with fabric stretched across them, doubling as a projection screen and revolving doors for getting all the seamen on and off the stage.

The singing had a few positive surprises in store. András Palerdi’s was a very pleasantly understated Daland, subtle, with good pronunciation. A bit on the soft side but never trying to overcompensate. Like his Steersman, István Horváth, who seems a fine all-purpose character tenor, à la Kevin Conners, he could be easily found on any international stage in that rôle. Anna Kissjudit’s Mary with a huge, natural, controlled voice that easily rang throughout the round was quite

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Briefly Noted: Igor Levit drinks the philtre

Wagner, Act I Prelude from Tristan und Isolde (Henze, Liszt, Mahler), Igor Levit (released on September 9, 2022) Sony Classical 886449503582 | 1h41

The Russian-German pianist Igor Levit is on a Tristan und Isolde kick. His new two-disc set, titled Tristan, pairs Hans Werner Henze's ground-breaking Tristan, from 1974, with the Wagner work that inspired it, especially the notorious Act I prelude, transcribed by Zoltán Kocsis. The Henze is an elusive, unclassifiable work, combining piano solo, electronic tapes, and orchestra. This thoughtful rendition, recorded in November 2019, features the Leipzig Gewandhaus under Franz Welser-Möst. An authoritative booklet essay by Anselm Cybinski lays out the work's many other musical quotations and allusions (Brahms, Mahler, and Chopin among them) as well as the multiple layers of meaning encoded in it.

Levit surrounds this enigmatic modern piece with romantic works he sees as related. From Liszt he takes the A-flat major nocturne known as Liebesträum No. 3, derived from a song set to poetry by Ferdinand Freiligrath. The poem, quoted and translated in the booklet, is the antidote to the love-death of Wagner's opera, a plea for lovers to remain alive, and therefore love, as long as they may. The disc concludes with "Harmonies du Soir," the eleventh piece from the same composer's Études d'exécution transcendante, an evocation of the night in which Wagner's lovers try to hide their passion.

This "program of Tristanesque works," as Cybinski puts it, includes Ronald Stevenson's piano arrangement of the first movement (Adagio) of Mahler's Tenth Symphony. One could see this selection as representing the point of view of King Marke on the Tristan story, as Mahler wrote it in the period after he learned of the affair between his wife, Alma, and Walter Gropius. Stretched out to over 27 minutes, this version grows organically from its opening (given to the violas in the orchestral score), that has considerable resonance with the main motif of Wagner's Act I prelude.

Levit returned to Washington this week, for the first appearance since his striking local recital debut in 2017, presented again by Washington Performing Arts. Thursday's excellent concert, in addition to exquisite Schumann and a new piece commissioned from jazz pianist Fred Hersch, added one last Tristan nugget to this program. On the second half, Levit played the Kocsis transcription of the Act I prelude from this recording, following it with a Faustian interpretation of Liszt's vast B minor sonata.

The juxtaposition made me realize, for the first time, that the final measure of Wagner's prelude is identical to the first measure of the Liszt sonata: two short staccato strikes on G in 6/8 meter. Wagner ends up on G without really giving the listener much reason to think of that as the keynote of the prelude, and Liszt immediately obscures the note with the descending scalar pattern that opens the sonata. To draw attention to this conjunction, Levit elided the two pieces, not only eschewing any pause between them, but making Wagner's last two notes simultaneously Liszt's first two.

On ClassicsToday: Knappertsbusch Conducts Wagner & Brahms at the Theater an der Wien

Slow Flow Beauty: A Tribute To Hans Knappertsbusch (Blu-ray)

by Jens F. Laurson

This Blu-ray titled “A Tribute to Hans Knappertsbusch” is a tribute by virtue of showing, not telling, what the conductor was about. There’s no documentary element, just two live broadcasts of concerts that Knappertsbusch gave with the Vienna Philharmonic at the Vienna Festival-Week in the... Continue Reading

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Dip Your Ears, No. 251 (Meet Lise Davidsen, the next Hochdramatische)

Lise Davidsen sings Wagner & Strauss Philharmonia, Esa-Pekka Salonen Decca

Make no mistake about it: The young Norwegian soprano Lise Davidsen, from little Stokke at the southern end of the Oslofjord, is *the* “Hochdramatische” of the near future. That much has been clear pretty much from the moment she stepped onto the stage of the Zurich Opera earlier this year, to give her first performance of Elizabeth in Wagner’s Tannhäuser – which she has already since reprised the rôle at the Munich Opera and the Bayreuth Festival. This debut recording on Decca, with the first-class backing of the Philharmonia under Esa-Pekka Salonen, cements the impression. If she’s the future, though, that’s not to say she has already arrived. As much as the Wagner and Strauss bits on this disc give her an opportunity to display her grand, blossoming voice, they also suggest that she hasn’t that much to say, yet. Her raw talent – at the base of which lies her effortlessly big, steely, single-edged voice – needs yet to be tempered by character or, barring that, depth of characterization. Especially in the opening “Dich, teure Halle”, Elisabeth’s prime cut aria in Tannhäuser, Davidsen comes across as shrill and overly dramatic, like someone with something to prove… more intent on shattering the Wartburg’s crown glass windows than expressing joyous anticipation and the lifting of a long-carried burden.

[Robert Levine's ClassicsToday review, similar but ultimately coming down more positively, can be found here: Magnificent Debut Recital By Lise Davidsen]

At the best of times, her voice gleams and shimmers like a Damascus steel: Hard but gleaming. Impressive? Very much. Pleasant? Not really. When she drops down to strike softer tones, though – towards the end of “Allmächt'ge Jungfrau, hör mein Flehen!”, the improvement is striking. That’s not really surprising, because it nearly always is highly impressive to hear huge voices sing softly. It’s what makes Jessye Norman’s account of Strauss’ Four Last Songs, despite glacial tempos, so marvelous: High-powered stratospheric lightness. There are hints of this in “Morgen!”, the iconic last of the Four [not last!] Songs op.27, where Salonen’s and the Philharmonia’s diaphanous garment drape Davidsen’s concentrated (rather pointed and slightly forced) ease to a combined gorgeous effect. The warmth that creeps into her voice for “Wiegenlied” is even more heartening, because it suggests that Davidsen’s palette is much wider than what is, for the most part, on show here. Her Four Last Songs, finally, are promising but not enough in their mildly anodyne ways to nudge any of your favorites off their pedestal. Not the double-creamy Norman, not the historical gem that is Lisa Della Casa’s much lighter, gleaming take, nor Janowitz with her voice of flattened silver. In songs like “Morgen”, “Cäcilie”, and “Wiegenlied”, the exuberant agility and sheer lust for life of a youngish Diana Damrau is far more gratifying. But if you want to hear the next big thing in this (and heavier) Fach, listen closely to Lise Davidsen all the same.

7/8

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On ClassicsToday: Piotr Beczala’s Lohengrin from Bayreuth (Blu-ray)

Herr Tesla’s Adventures in Brabant—Piotr Beczala’s Lohengrin (Blu-ray)

Review by: Jens F. Laurson

Artistic Quality: ?

Sound Quality: ?

This is neither a Lohengrin to seek out for its direction, nor to avoid because of it. As drama, it can’t begin to touch the rats of Hans Neunefels that populated Bayreuth’s previous Lohengrin, already a modern classic. Arguably it’s even a bit lame, but it’s also very pretty and (perhaps involuntarily) traditional. This leaves plenty room to focus on the performances—which is a good thing, as I will elaborate below... [continue reading]

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Bayreuth on the Danube: The Budapest Wagner Days. Production Photos from Die Götterdämmerung 2019

The Chorus: Honvéd Male Choir (Honvéd Férfikar) & Hungarian Radio Choir (Magyar Rádió Énekkara)

From the third day of the 2019 Budapest Wagner Days come these pictures of Die Götterdämmerung. (See production pictures of Das Rheingold here, Die Walküre here, and Siegfried here - and the ClassicsToday review here.) If the Rheingold stunned with a (largely) no-name cast that was absolutely bona-fide world class (most especially Alberich, Loge, Mime, and Fasolt along with the established Wotan of Johan Reuter's), this most popular opera of the Ring boasted a cast with world class names that, happily, lived up to their billing. Stuart Skelton, Johan Reuter, Camilla Nylund, and especially Catherine Foster gave of their best.

Here is part two (of two) of my review on ClassicsToday: A Magnificent Budapest Ring, Part 2: Walküre, Siegfried, & Götterdämmerung
Here is part one of my review on ClassicsToday: A Magnificent Budapest Ring: Prelude and Rheingold

Below are loads of production photos from Die Götterdämmerung to go with that review (or titillate you all on their own.)

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Bayreuth on the Danube: The Budapest Wagner Days. Production Photos from Siegfried 2019

Siegfried (Stefan Vinke)

From the third day of the 2019 Budapest Wagner Days come these pictures of Siegfried. (See production pictures of Das Rheingold here and Die Walküre here - and the ClassicsToday review here.) If the Rheingold stunned with a (largely) no-name cast that was absolutely bona-fide world class (most especially Alberich, Loge, Mime, and Fasolt along with the established Wotan of Johan Reuter's), this most popular opera of the Ring boasted a cast with world class names that, happily, lived up to their billing. Stuart Skelton, Johan Reuter, Camilla Nylund, and especially Catherine Foster gave of their best.

Here is part two (of two) of my review on ClassicsToday: A Magnificent Budapest Ring, Part 2: Walküre, Siegfried, & Götterdämmerung
Here is part one of my review on ClassicsToday: A Magnificent Budapest Ring: Prelude and Rheingold

Below are loads of production photos from Siegfried to go with that review (or titillate you all on their own.)

Follow @ClassicalCritic

Read more »