At long last Decca reissues Hans Schmidt-Isserstedt’s Vienna Philharmonic Beethoven cycle from the 1960s in full, together with the conductor’s accounts of the concertos, featuring soloists Wilhelm Backhaus and Henryk Szeryng. In the main, the symphonies are superbly played, benefiting from the Vienna Philharmonic’s perpetually singing tone quality from the string section, characterfully inflected woodwinds, and broad, comfy brass sonorities. Schmidt-Isserstedt’s straightforward, sober interpretations strike a happy medium between the formal, unvarnished Teutonic styles of Klemperer and Barenboim and the astringent classicism typical of Toscanini, Szell, and at times, Böhm. Standouts include a highly distinct, stylishly taut “Eroica”, an expansive, fluent “Pastorale”, an assertive, powerfully projected Fourth, and a Leonore No. 3 that positively sizzles with drama. My tastes lean toward brasher, more rhythmically driven versions of the First (Wand, Toscanini), Second (Szell), and Eighth (Scherchen, Kletzki).
Once past a relatively static, shapeless first-movement introduction (whose ascending scales lack intensity and forward impetus), the conductor’s orthodox, regulation-model Seventh falls into place. One of the catalog’s great Ninths tops this cycle, featuring a vocal-soloist dream team. Bass Martti Talvela makes an imposing impression by taking his recitative cadenza in a single, effortless breath. James King’s ever-present tenor and bel canto’s Dynamic Duo of Marilyn Horne and Joan Sutherland also linger in your ear long after the music stops. Henryk Szeryng’s focused tone, dead-center intonation, and purity of line stress the Violin Concerto’s abstract grandeur more than its rapturous poetry. In turn, Schmidt-Isserstedt and the LSO provide an incisive orchestral framework that contrasts to Bernard Haitink’s equally taut yet more blended and deliberate accompaniment for the same violinist’s studio remake on Philips.
The piano concertos are remarkable for the sheer energy and fingerpower that Wilhelm Backhaus could still summon in his mid-70s. That said, Beethoven asks for a wider scope of dynamics and accents than Backhaus is willing to honor. And certain stylistic gaucheries stand out like sore thumbs: the pianist’s occasional added bass octaves and Paderewskian breaking of hands, or his tendency to resume tempo by starting a phrase slowly and working up to speed, as in the Third Concerto’s Rondo. (Incidentally, in the latter’s first movement Backhaus plays a flashy cadenza inferior to Beethoven’s own.) A perfunctory aura surrounds the slow movements, to which other pianists bring a superior sense of inward calm and lyrical rapture. Take, for example, the piano’s hushed entrance in the Emperor Concerto’s slow movement, where Backhaus’ matter-of-fact phrasing pales next to the spacious arioso pianists such as Arrau, Gilels, and Schnabel make of this and similar passages. All things considered, Backhaus was a serious and seasoned artist, and his admirers will be pleased to have his stereo Beethoven concerto cycle in circulation again. All told, this is an enticing bargain that requires little of your valuable shelf space.
