MENGELBERG The Concertgebouw Telefunken Recordings — Complete set - PABX051

In celebration of the 150th anniversary of the birth of Willem Mengelberg (28 March 1871), Pristine is pleased to present the first in a series of releases surveying the conductor’s recordings with the Concertgebouw Orchestra for Telefunken, the label for which he made the bulk of his commercial discs. They will be presented in roughly chronological order, with the present volume featuring all the recordings Mengelberg made in 1937, along with the first he did the following year. (The conductor’s Telefunken recordings with the Berlin Philharmonic have already been released on PASC 348.)

After the completion of his May, 1932 Columbia sessions (featured in PASC 616), Mengelberg found himself without a recording contract for the first time in a decade. Six sides made for Decca in June, 1935 did not lead to any further recordings with that label. In 1937, he was approached by the German electronics giant, Telefunken, which had launched its own recording subsidiary eight years earlier. Telefunken had established a reputation for being on the cutting edge of recording and reproducing technology; and the conductor released a statement lauding their “decisive commitment in placing all the resources of modern electro-acoustics at the service of music” which had produced “such convincing results.”

The first sessions were held in May, 1937 not in the Grote Zaal (Great Hall) of the Concertgebouw, where concerts and previous recording sessions had taken place, but oddly in the Kleine Zaal, a smaller venue usually devoted to chamber music and recitals. Mengelberg was particularly keen to record works which had he had not been able to set down while at Columbia. Beethoven was central to his repertoire; but although he had recorded the First and Eroica symphonies with the New York Philharmonic for Victor (PASC 412), he had not been allotted any by Columbia, which already had all nine in its catalog, conducted mainly by Weingartner.

Mengelberg began his cycle with a fiery reading of the Fifth. If the second movement seems a bit too brusque, perhaps it was due to trying to squeeze it onto two sides (his 1940 broadcast [PASC 236] is nearly a minute longer here), while the last two movements feature several brass errors which the conductor uncharacteristically allowed to pass. In the Pastoral from the following December, by which time the sessions had been moved to the Grote Zaal, Mengelberg puts his stamp on the second movement with a pronounced rubato at the outset, and causes time to stand still before the bird calls toward the end.

While Mengelberg was more successful in being able to record Tchaikovsky symphonies for Columbia (the Fourth and Fifth are on PASC 511), the label had assigned the Pathétique to Oskar Fried, so he was particularly eager to get his interpretation onto disc. After a recording in May was not passed, a second one was made in December. The biggest difference between this version and his 1941 remake is in the final movement, which is nearly a minute longer in the later recording, and more appropriately “lamentoso”. In the composer’s String Serenade, the Waltz is slower and has a bit less élan than the Columbia version of a decade earlier; but Mengelberg ends the work with a rousing finish, full of high spirits.

The two short French works are each successful, but for opposite reasons. In the Berlioz, Mengelberg turns in a straight, unexaggerated performance of great beauty and excitement; while in the Franck, his often-criticized indulgences of tempo variation and string portamenti are completely in the spirit of the piece, and create an ecstatic, passionate rhapsody which ranks among the conductor’s finest realizations on disc.

Mark Obert-Thorn

In celebration of the 150th anniversary of the birth of Willem Mengelberg (28 March 1871), Pristine continues its series of releases surveying the conductor’s recordings with the Concertgebouw Orchestra for Telefunken, the label for which he made the bulk of his commercial discs. They are being presented in roughly chronological order, with the present volume featuring recordings Mengelberg made in 1937/8. (The conductor’s Telefunken recordings with the Berlin Philharmonic have already been released on PASC 348.)

Our program begins with two versions of Vivaldi’s Concerto No. 8 in A minor from L’estro armonico and its “filler side”, the Air from Bach’s Orchestral Suite No. 3. Previously, it was thought that there was a single issued version of these recordings, which most discographies listed as having been made in December, 1938. However, a discovery I made during the production of this reissue revealed that, in fact, two completely different versions were recorded a year apart and issued under the same catalog numbers. The first one presented here was made in December, 1937. Before restoration, it had a prominent 50 Hz mains hum which was absent from the remake, heard directly following it.

According to the original Telefunken recording cards, the Vivaldi is played in an arrangement made by American violinist and conductor Sam Franko. While Mengelberg had previously recorded the Bach Air with the New York Philharmonic in an all-string setting by Mahler (on Pristine PASC 378), by 1937 this would not have been permitted for a German-based label, and another version with a harpsichord continuo (credited on some original 78 rpm editions as being by “Telico”, although I’ve found no evidence of a composer or arranger by that name) was substituted.

The Beethoven First Symphony was another work which Mengelberg had previously recorded in New York (PASC 412). In the earlier version, which took up eight sides, he included the repeats in the first and fourth movements (as he also did in his live 1940 Concertgebouw broadcast, on PASC 221). The remake cut it down to six by eliminating them. The Eighth Symphony, recorded the following day, was new to his discography (except for the second movement, which had previously been recorded as a filler side for Columbia), while the Schubert Rosamunde Overture had only figured among his recordings earlier in an acoustic version from New York in 1924, cut to fit one side.

Mengelberg had recorded only one complete Brahms Symphony earlier (the Third, for Columbia, now on PASC 616), so the Fourth was a major addition to his discography. He would go on to record the Second for Telefunken in 1940 (to be featured in the next volume of this series), but the First would only be preserved via a live radio performance from the same year (PASC 221).

As one of the greatest interpreters of the works of Richard Strauss (as well as a friend of the composer and the dedicatee of Ein Heldenleben), it’s puzzling that Mengelberg’s interpretations of his scores were not more frequently recorded. Besides two versions of Heldenleben (from New York and Amsterdam) and one of Death and Transfiguration, there was only this Don Juan to make up his complete Strauss discography. Our program concludes with Debussy’s Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun, the only commercial recording of a work by that composer that Mengelberg made, although a broadcast performance of the Debussy Fantasy with Gieseking has survived.

The sources for the transfers were German and French Telefunken pressings from the original masters (no American Capitol-Telefunken dubbings), with a portion of the beginning of the final movement of the Beethoven First taken from a Czech Ultraphon edition.

Mark Obert-Thorn

In celebration of the 150th anniversary of the birth of Willem Mengelberg (28 March 1871), Pristine continues its series of releases surveying the conductor’s recordings with the Concertgebouw Orchestra for Telefunken, the label for which he made the bulk of his commercial discs. They are being presented in roughly chronological order, with this third volume featuring recordings Mengelberg made in 1938 and 1940.

On 1 December 1938, immediately following the Debussy Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun which concluded our previous set, Mengelberg recorded the two works which begin the present program. Somewhat surprisingly, it was the first time he had recorded any Dutch music with the Concertgebouw Orchestra, and the only occasion on which he made a 10-inch disc with that ensemble. The first track features the Dutch national anthem in an arrangement by the conductor, followed by Valerius’ “Dutch Prayer of Thanksgiving” (best known outside of the Netherlands as the hymn “We Gather Together”) orchestrated by Wagenaar.

Finishing out the session, Mengelberg began recording the Beethoven Fourth Symphony, concluding it the following day. It was a new addition to his discography of the composer, and differs from the broadcast of 25 April 1940 (on Pristine PASC 236) mainly in its lack of repeats in the third movement in order to fit it on a single side.

Mengelberg and his orchestra would not stand before Telefunken’s microphones again for another 16 months. He returned for four days of sessions in April, 1940, the first three of which were mainly taken up with the Brahms Second. It was the last of the composer’s symphonies that he would record, after the Third (for Columbia, now on PASC 616) in 1932 and the Fourth in 1938 (PASC 664). The First would only be preserved via a live radio performance from 1940 (PASC 221).

The three Dutch compositions which begin the second disc here were recorded the day after the Brahms sessions were completed. In addition to the well over a hundred works he composed, Cornelius Dopper was also assistant conductor of the Concertgebouw Orchestra from 1908 to 1931. His Ciaconna Gotica, considered by many to be his masterpiece, was premièred in 1920, and attracted the interest of Leopold Stokowski, who gave its first American performance in Philadelphia six years later. Mengelberg’s recording was made just seven months after Dopper’s death, probably as a tribute to the composer.

Rudolf Mengelberg was Willem’s nephew, and studied composition under him and Dopper. His setting of Salve Regina and the Hendrik Andreissen song which was the recording’s “filler” side were the only issued studio recordings Mengelberg and the Concertgebouw made with a soloist. (His set of the Tchaikovsky First Piano Concerto with Hansen was done with the Berlin Philharmonic, and all other Mengelberg recordings with soloists stem from broadcasts.) Jo Vincent was a frequent partner in the conductor’s performances, singing a wide range of works from Bach ( St. Matthew Passion) to Brahms (A German Requiem, on PACO 012) to Mahler (Symphony No. 4, PASC 055).

The Tchaikovsky “1812” Overture which concludes our program was actually recorded at the tail end of the Brahms Second sessions. Even without a chorus or cannons, it remains one of the most exciting – and musical – performances of the work ever made, and has been placed here to provide a rousing conclusion to our program.

The sources for the transfers were German and French Telefunken 78 rpm shellac pressings from the original masters.

Mark Obert-Thorn

In celebration of the 150th anniversary of the birth of Willem Mengelberg (28 March 1871), Pristine continues its series of releases surveying the conductor’s recordings with the Concertgebouw Orchestra for Telefunken, the label for which he made the bulk of his commercial discs. They are being presented in roughly chronological order, with this fourth volume featuring recordings Mengelberg made in 1940 and 1941.

After the April, 1940 recordings featured in our previous volume (PASC 686), Mengelberg’s next Telefunken sessions were held in Berlin that July, and featured Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1 (with Conrad Hansen as soloist) and his Fifth Symphony, both with the Berlin Philharmonic (PASC 348). Back in Amsterdam for his next sessions in November, Mengelberg returned to a work he had previously recorded ten years earlier with the New York Philharmonic, Beethoven’s “Eroica” Symphony.

While that earlier recording had been notable for including the repeats for both the first and third movements, the remake omitted them (following the usual practice of recordings of the time, thereby saving a disc). In two contemporaneous live recordings of the work (one from 1940, which is missing the first movement, and another dated as 1942), Mengelberg included the repeat in the Scherzo in both performances, but omitted the first movement’s repeat in the single complete extant live broadcast. The remake benefits from the warmer acoustic of the Concertgebouw’s Grote Saal, as well as from the alert, characterful playing of the ensemble and Mengelberg’s more involved interpretation than in his earlier New York version (PASC 412).

Immediately following the Beethoven at the same session, Mengelberg set down the last of his studio recordings of Dutch repertoire with Julius Röntgen’s arrangement of two traditional Netherlands dances from the composer’s 1904 suite, originally issued as the filler side to Dopper’s Ciaconna Gotica. The long session concluded with a recording of Mozart’s Flute Concerto No. 2 with the Concertgebouw’s principal flutist, Herbert Barwahser, as soloist, but this studio version remained unissued and is presumed lost.

The next two days were given over to recording the Franck Symphony, which had been broadcast the previous month (a live performance later released by Philips) and Wagner’s Overture to Die Meistersinger. (The Wagner, though recorded at the tail end of the Franck, has been placed before it due to timing limitations on our CD version.) Another unissued recording would follow the Wagner: Franck’s Symphonic Variations with Theo van der Pas as soloist, whose matrices are also presumed lost.

Mengelberg would next perform for Telefunken’s microphones five months later, in April, 1941, for a remake of what is perhaps the conductor’s most celebrated New York recording, Strauss’ Ein Heldenleben. The composer had dedicated the score to Mengelberg and the Concertgebouw Orchestra together, so it was appropriate that the combination should leave a lasting document of the score. The solo violinist was the Concertgebouw’s newly-appointed concertmaster, Ferdinand Helman, who had just succeeded Louis Zimmermann at the start of the season. If the somewhat broader tempos of this performance have led many to prefer the 1928 New York recording (PASC 104), it still scores in its superior sonics and in the equal commitment and dedication of both conductor and orchestra.

The sources for the transfers were German, Swiss and Swedish “Telestar” Telefunken 78 rpm shellac pressings from the original masters.

Mark Obert-Thorn

In celebration of the 150th anniversary of the birth of Willem Mengelberg (28 March 1871), Pristine continues its series of releases surveying the conductor’s recordings with the Concertgebouw Orchestra for Telefunken, the label for which he made the bulk of his commercial discs.  They are being presented in roughly chronological order, with this fifth and penultimate volume featuring recordings Mengelberg made in 1941 and 1942.  Due to timing limitations on the CD version of this release, Death and Transfiguration is presented following the Tchaikovsky symphony rather than just before the Beethoven, which was its original recording order.

Our present program begins the day following the recording session for Strauss’ Ein Heldenleben which concluded our previous release (PASC 719).  The Tchaikovsky Pathétique was a remake of one of Mengelberg’s earliest Telefunken sets (reissued in PASC 624).  The biggest interpretational difference between this version from 1937 and the one presented here is in the final movement, which is nearly a minute longer in the later recording, and more appropriately “lamentoso”.  Another reason for wanting to remake the set may have been a prominent 50 Hz mains hum, removed from the Pristine restorations, which afflicted all of the conductor’s 1937 Telefunken sessions.

The two days following the Tchaikovsky session were devoted to Mengelberg’s only commercial recording of a work by Dvořák, the New World Symphony (although a 1943 air check exists of a live performance of the composer’s Violin Concerto with soloist Maria Neuss).  This very individualized interpretation features an extraordinarily expansive Largo movement.  Unfortunately, it suffers from a higher-than-usual complement of surface noise, probably inherent in the masters, as it appears on all copies of which I am aware. 

That defect may have been the reason for the non-release of two other tantalizing titles from this group of sessions:  a complete recording of the Beethoven Second Symphony, made immediately following the Dvořák on April 24th; and what would have been Mengelberg’s only Sibelius recording, Finlandia, set down the following day.  Just before the Sibelius came the recording of Borodin’s In the Steppes of Central Asia, a title common on American Capitol’s dubbed 78 rpm version, but rare in its original Telefunken appearance, used for transfer here.

It would be another year before Mengelberg and the Concertgebouw Orchestra recorded for Telefunken again, and this time their efforts were more consistently successful from a technical point of view.  The 1942 sessions began on April 14th with Richard Strauss’ Death and Transfiguration.  It is odd that one of Strauss’ greatest interpreters, the one to whom the composer dedicated Ein Heldenleben, left so few recordings of his works.  Besides two versions of Heldenleben (New York and Amsterdam), there was only a studio and a live version of Don Juan to attest to his abilities with this repertoire.

The following day, Mengelberg set down a remake of his first recording for Telefunken, the Beethoven Fifth Symphony (PASC 624).  In addition to the hum in the 1937 version, there were also a couple ensemble issues that the conductor might have wanted to clean up.   Like the previous year’s Beethoven Second and Finlandia, Telefunken never issued it on 78 rpm; but unlike those lost recordings, a release was made by the American Capitol label in the early 1950s on all three formats then in use (78, 45 and LP), dubbed from vinyl test pressings. 

However, there was no indication on the Capitol releases that it was the remake from 1942; and as late as 1994, it continued to be reissued on CD by Telefunken, erroneously identified as the 1937 recording.  The confusion has only been sorted out in the past couple decades as correctly-attributed reissues of both versions have allowed for comparison.  The present transfer has been made from the original Capitol LP, while all other restorations on this release have come from original Telefunken 78s.

Mark Obert-Thorn

This release concludes Pristine’s six-volume survey of Willem Mengelberg’s complete Telefunken recordings with the Concertgebouw Orchestra of Amsterdam, begun in 2021 to mark the 150th anniversary of the conductor’s birth (28 March 1871). Telefunken was the label for which Mengelberg made the bulk of his commercial discs, and they are presented here in chronological order.

This final volume features some of his rarest recordings. The notes for a 1995 Pearl CD release claimed that only two copies of Eine Kleine Nachtmusik were known to exist, while Mengelberg’s recording of Schubert’s “Unfinished” has long been a sought-after holy grail among collectors. These and other rarities have been newly transferred directly from original Telefunken shellac 78s.

Our program begins on April 16, 1942, the day after the session that produced Mengelberg’s remake of the Beethoven Fifth which concluded our previous volume. It opens with three dances from Berlioz’s Damnation de Faust. Although Mengelberg reversed the order of the first two in a concert broadcast eleven months later, the matrix numbers show that Mengelberg recorded the works in the order reproduced here. The “Hungarian March” is given complete, unlike the abbreviated version he recorded for Columbia in 1926 (PASC 595). He then returned to native Dutch composers for the final time on disc with Johan Wagenaar’s overture Cyrano de Bergerac, a work strongly reminiscent of Strauss’s Don Juan. These recordings, as with most of the April 1942 sessions, have the finest sound Telefunken provided for his Concertgebouw discs.

The following day brought Schubert’s Marche Militaire, issued only in a sonically compromised dubbing, presumably to reduce the volume of loud passages to avoid wear, and Brahms’s Tragic Overture. Mengelberg’s broad, brooding reading of the latter contrasts sharply with the propulsive urgency heard in the four earlier recordings by Boult, Beecham, Toscanini, and Mengelberg’s former Cologne Conservatory classmate, Frederick Stock.

The next sessions from November 1942 began with three sides of Beethoven. The first two contain music from The Creatures of Prometheus, including the number whose theme Beethoven later used in the finale of the “Eroica” Symphony. Telefunken did not issue these sides on 78s; they first appeared in dubbed form on Capitol in the early 1950s and are transferred here from a Capitol LP pressing. The rare overture to The Ruins of Athens, originally issued as the filler for Eugen Jochum’s Parsifal “Good Friday Spell,” has been taken from the same LP.

Four days later came Mengelberg’s unusually swift Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. Like the Beethoven selections and the two Schubert symphonies recorded seven months later, it suffers from peak distortion at louder moments inherent in the original recording, rather than from disc wear. Given Telefunken’s excellent results in April, this is puzzling. Because the distortion resembles that sometimes heard on early magnetic tape, I suspect these final sessions may have been recorded on tape and dubbed to wax masters. Due to the destruction of Telefunken’s archives in a 1950s Elbe River flood, we may never know.

Mengelberg’s final sessions, held over two days in June 1943, focused on Schubert’s last two symphonies. The “Great” C Major came first, appropriately enough since it was still generally known as the Seventh. Mengelberg again confounds expectations, taking a faster-than-usual introduction in the first movement but more measured tempi in the third. The uncut third movement was spread over three sides, with its da capo repeat requiring the listener to replay the opening side*. The luftpause I have left before the trio follows Mengelberg’s December 1940 live broadcast.

In the “Unfinished,” critic Rob Cowan has noted that the exposition repeat heard in Mengelberg’s November 1939 broadcast is omitted here, while the string portamenti are more restrained. Previous transfers relied on tape dubs of discs from a private collector and a Dutch archive. For this edition, I worked directly from a complete original 78 set, supplemented by two single discs from other sets, in the hope of achieving better results.

Mark Obert-Thorn

*From the matrix sequence, it appears that a separate final side of the Scherzo was recorded but not issued in order to save an extra disc.