Weber’s Der Freischütz
A survey of the major recordings
by Ralph Moore
Der Freischütz was first performed 18 June 1821 in the Schauspielhaus, Berlin, and soon became a roaring, European-wide success, thereafter migrating quickly to Russia and the United States. It was the last opera to be performed in Dresden’s Semper opera house during the Nazi regime before the building was destroyed in a bombing raid and the first to be staged in the temporary theatre built in Dresden after the war. When the opera house was properly rebuilt by the communist East German regime, it was again the opener – all of which indicates its special status as “a national treasure”, but also a work which spans borders and ideological divides. Not that it is in any sense overtly nationalistic in the way, for example, of Lohengrin or the finale of Die Meistersinger; the word “German” is never mentioned and it is politics-free, the only references to the world outside the village being that it is set just after the Thirty Years War and the villain Kaspar is a war criminal. The story itself is a bit of supernatural hokum of no great skill or subtlety, set in the context of a hunting tale; nor, contrary to popular belief, did Weber derive the music from German folk songs, albeit often rustic-folksy in style. It is considered to be the first Romantic German opera which has inspired a host of imitations, but the arias are in a manner clearly both Italianate and influenced by the opéras comiques of the French Revolution, and the mixture of spoken dialogue and instrumental music, while typical of Singspiel forerunners such as Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte and Die Entführung aus dem Serail and Beethoven’s Fidelio, owes even more to the mélodrames of French Grand Opéra. However, the inclusion of numbers such as the Huntsmen’s Chorus and the Peasants’ March introduces local colour and stresses the opera’s nationalist, German character. The introduction of the diminished seventh in the overture heralds its use in the famous, spooky “Wolf’s Glen” scene, setting a sinister tone which chilled and astonished its first audiences and reflected the craze for myth and legend as part of a burgeoning Romantic sensibility – indeed, Ännchen’s Romance “Einst träumte meiner sel’gen Base” is specifically a mock ghost story, complete with a haunting viola obbligato. While Weber, then Marschner, clearly opened the way for the supernatural elements we encounter in Wagner’s operas, they surely influenced Berlioz, too, as evinced in the “Witches’ Sabbath” movement of his Symphonie fantastique, and the “Ryde to the Abyss” and “Pandemonium” in La damnation de Faust.
It is an opera which is not as easy to cast as it might appear, and I have found that the central role of Max is too often undercast; he needs almost to be a Heldentenor with some agility, and is already unattractive enough as a character without being sung by a whiner or a bleater. Agathe is something of a china doll of perfection but has music of such unearthly beauty that we can forgive her and her milksop lover as long as they sing well; they are, after all, as in all comedy, the representatives of the reestablishment of order, peace and social stability through their ultimate union – though quite rightly, Max has to serve a probationary year before being granted that privilege, as restitution for yielding to the temptation to enter into a desperate demonic pact.
The spoken dialogue is an obstacle to its appreciation by non-German speakers, so some welcome its pruning or even substitution by a narrative – but to my mind, that tends to obstruct the musical flow. Earlier recordings cut it altogether. Another perennial problem – and a hobby-horse of mine – is the substitution of the singers by actors for the spoken passages, which almost invariably results in a tonal mismatch. Every recording here which includes dialogue uses a version trimmed or abridged to some degree, hence missing from them all is the famous line in the longer, original text quoted by Bismarck: “Glaubst du, dieser Adler sei dir geschenkt?” (Do you think you get this eagle for nothing?).
As usual, I do not claim that this survey is wholly comprehensive; I have confined it to CD releases, excluded DVDs and non-German versions, and considered only those in tolerable mono sound onwards into the digital era, not pre-war, “historical” recordings. I have omitted those which take too many liberties with the score or are demonstrably sub-par; thus, I have not bothered with Colin Davis’ 2012 LSO Live version and to justify that omission, I refer you to colleagues’ less than enthusiastic reviews. I have otherwise “put the boot in” to several modern recordings; perhaps some will find my reaction intemperate but that is honestly how I feel about them.
Nineteen recordings are reviewed below.
The Recordings:
Karl Elmendorff – 1944 (studio, mono); Preiser/Cantus/Profil Hänssler
Orchestra – Sächsische Staatskapelle
Chorus – Dresdner Staatsoper
Max – Lorenz Fehenberger
Agathe – Margarete Teschemacher
Kaspar – Kurt Böhme
Ottokar – Arno Schellenberg
Kuno – Heinrich Pflanzl
Kilian – Karl Wesseley
Hermit – Sven Nilsson
Ännchen – Elfride Trötschel
Just the musical numbers are here, no dialogue, running to 114 minutes, so this can only ever be a supplement. However, the sound on the Profil Hänssler issue is remarkably good: full and clear, a bit of rumble apart – presumably it was made on magnetic tape. These are artists steeped in the tradition, not necessarily well remembered today – Kurt Böhme apart – and the conductor was by all accounts stolidly efficient rather than inspired. He tends to favour rather lugubrious tempi, robbing the music of momentum – and his reputation has not been enhanced by his membership of the Nazi Party .
The Max, Lorenz Fehenberger, is vocally near ideal, with a big, ringing tenor, although he is rather wooden and plaintive in delivery. There are three equally big-voiced basses in the cast: Böhme – booming but sometimes approximate in intonation and somewhat agricultural in manner, an impression abetted by the conductor’s stolidity – a more than capable Pflanzl as Kuno and the great Sven Nilsson, Fritz Reiner’s König Marke in 1936 and Karl Böhm’s Veit Pogner in 1938. The two lead sopranos have warm, pretty voices of considerable purity and heft – indeed Teschemacher sang Wagnerian roles and was Strauss’ first Daphne.
The “Wolf’s Glen” scene goes well; it is the only scene given complete with the dialogue and the sound here is particularly clear, capturing the voices, the succession of eerie orchestral passages accompanying the casting of the magic bullets and the echo of Kaspar’s incantation very atmospherically. The crowd scenes are vigorously sung by the chorus and the supporting cast is strong, especially Arno Schellenberg’s vibrant Ottokar.
This is, perhaps, one only for historical recording aficionados but it is highly enjoyable.
Rudolf Kempe – 1951 (studio, mono); Arkadia/Profil Hänssler
Orchestra & Chorus – Dresdner Staatskapelle
Max – Bernd Aldenhoff
Agathe – Elfride Trötschel
Kaspar – Kurt Böhme
Ottokar – Karl Paul
Kuno – Werner Faulhaber
Kilian – Karl-Heinz Thomann
Hermit – Hans Krämer
Samiel – Hannes Haegele
Ännchen – Irma Beilke
Michael Cookson favourably reviewed this recording in 2012. Kempe is always to be trusted in any repertoire; I don’t know of a poor recording by him. Already in the overture, despite the limitations of the otherwise acceptable, even full, mono sound, the sonorities he elicits from the Dresden orchestra are very apparent. The sadly short-lived lead soprano Elfride Trötschel is appealing. She adopts a strangely piping timbre and childlike manner for “Und ob die Wolke” and “Leise, leise” which is not out of place to portray the pure, naïve Agathe but it is not perhaps as sophisticated or “operatic” a sound as one might expect. Irma Beilke is aptly pert and pretty of voice, even if she has something of a warbling production.
The similarly short-lived Heldentenor Bernd Aldenhoff will mainly be known to collectors for his Wagner performances under Karajan and Knappertsbusch at Bayreuth. He has a large voice yet often sings sensitively – although sometimes his vibrato obtrudes to the point whereby it becomes wearing. Kurt Böhme’s Kaspar is already a known quantity (see above); he is suitably dark and chilling in the “Wolf’s Glen” scene which enjoys some vivid sound effects – but the vigorous chorus in the opening is recorded too closely and the Samiel is a bit tame. The supporting roles of Ottokar, Kilian and the Hermit are all strongly filled.
Again, I see this primarily as an interesting supplement, especially as there are recordings offering both superior sound and performances – and with the dialogue, missing here.
Otto Ackermann – 1951 (studio, mono); Preiser
Orchestra – Wiener Philharmoniker
Chorus – Wiener Staatsoper
Max – Hans Hopf
Agathe – Maud Cunitz
Kaspar – Marjan Rus
Ottokar – Alfred Poell
Kuno – Franz Bierbach
Kilian – Karl Dönch
Hermit – Otto Edelmann
Samiel – Siegert Reinhold
Ännchen – Emmy Loose
This is another German recording in fair – if slightly peaky – mono sound, with severely abbreviated dialogue, featuring a number of well-known singers in the cast led by an experienced conductor – another artist who died young, aged only fifty – mostly known for his recordings of the operettas of his friend Lehár. However, little of the lilt and lift of that genre seems to inform his account of the overture, which enjoys opulent sound from the VPO but is conducted in a rather heavy manner. Number after number plods by. Alan Blyth in Opera on Record is uncharacteristically scathing about this recording – though in fact his whole chapter on the opera suggest an attack of dyspepsia – but it is true this lacks pzazz; the first solo voice we hear, Karl Dönch as Kilian, is not at all encouraging and both the Kuno and Kaspar are blaring shouters. However, Hans Hopf isn’t bad: he is pleasing of tone, tireless and accurate, but also typically stolid. Maud Cunitz, despite her protestations, does not stir anyone’s pulse; she is weak and wavery. Vocal relief comes from Emmy Loose, who does what she can to inject some allure into proceedings, but nobody is helped by Ackermann’s tempi. The “Wolf’s Glen” scene is reasonably successful but the lack of heft in Marjan Rus’ voice leads him to resort to some over-emoting and the Samiel, too, just shouts.
The adequate Hopf and the charming Loose apart, this is a real dud. Avoid.
Wilhelm Furtwängler – 1954 (live, mono); Gala/Music & Arts/EMI/Opera d’Oro/Walhall/Pristine
Orchestra – Wiener Philharmoniker
Chorus – Wiener Staatsoper
Max – Hans Hopf
Agathe – Elisabeth Grümmer
Kaspar – Kurt Böhme
Ottokar – Alfred Poell
Kuno – Oskar Czerwenka
Kilian – Karl Dönch
Hermit – Otto Edelmann
Samiel – Claus Clausen
Ännchen – Rita Streich
This is a distinctly slow, grand performance, far removed from the world of “light opera” and the Pristine remastering in the download I listen to has really taken the unpleasant edge off the original sound via XR Remastering into Ambient Stereo, imparting depth and richness to proceedings. My colleague Paul Steinson reviewed this very approvingly in 2015 and I concur with his judgement. It is largely free from bothersome noise despite being live and as long as one surrenders to Furtwängler’s slightly ponderous way with the music it is really striking – worlds apart, for example, from Ackermann’s dilatory manner; you really feel as if you listening to important music directed like this under Furtwängler’s hands and the playing of the VPO, the odd blip notwithstanding, is glorious. He shapes every phrase, brings out every nuance, and evidently loves the score without hugging it to death – it is like hearing the music afresh. Much of that impression is due to Andrew Rose’s meticulous and very effective remastering, as we can now properly hear all those details; it is done so well that one might be fooled into thinking this was recorded in stereo.
It is also apparent that the Staatsoper chorus is back to full strength after the deprivations of the war; their clumping and shrieking in the celebratory dancing opening Act I might strike us as over-exuberant but this was a live performance. The Kilian is a bit of a bawler but what he lacks in elegance he makes up for with enthusiasm. We get the full dialogue, too, but there is also a lot more stomping as the singers move around the stage.
Hans Hopf was one of the few bright spots in the Ackermann recording and here he is much better placed, up against a properly dour and black-voiced Kaspar in Kurt Böhme, even if he is still short on poetry. There are oddities – the waltz (CD 1, track 4) is weirdly galumphing and very slow, but everything is clearly deliberately thought-out so we can take it or leave it.
However, the obvious star here is the radiant Elisabeth Grümmer, although the delectable Rita Streich isn’t far behind her in appeal. Their duos are a delight, as are their solo arias; “Leise, leise” and “Und ob die Wolke” are a highpoints, eliciting prolonged applause, both showcasing the power, delicacy and control of Grümmer’s shimmering soprano; she lifts the music into a new plane in a manner unrivalled until Gundula Janowitz undertook the role. There is strength in depth in the casting, too, with distinguished Viennese baritone Alfred Poell as Ottokar and resonant bass Otto Edelmann as the Hermit. The crucial “Wolf’s Glen” scene is successful but we must endure another shouting Samiel rather than a more subtly menacing demon and the echo effect is bungled.
This whole recording is clearly a step up from its predecessors and the earliest recording to be recommendable as a first choice. It’s not perfect and I hesitate to make it a top recommendation; the stomping, some idiosyncratic choices of slow tempo by Furtwängler and a somewhat two-dimensional lead tenor are drawbacks but it is greater than the sum of its parts. A poignant fact is that Furtwängler died a mere four months after this performance.
Erich Kleiber – 1955 (radio broadcast, mono); Opera d’Oro/Membran/Capriccio/Urania
Orchestra – Kölner Rundfunk-Sinfonie Orchester
Chorus – Kölner Rundfunkchor
Max – Hans Hopf
Agathe – Elisabeth Grümmer
Kaspar – Max Proebstl
Ottokar – Alfred Poell
Kuno – Heiner Horn
Kilian – Kurt Marschner
Hermit – Kurt Böhme
Samiel – Richard Münch
Ännchen – Rita Streich
The recording by the younger Kleiber has long held sway as one of the top recommendations but it is by no means flawless (see below), so hearing Carlos’ father’s version is of obvious interest, especially considering the cast list, headed by Elisabeth Grümmer, who is in even more radiant voice than she was for Furtwängler the year before. Hans Hopf, too, is better than he was in that previous recording – sweeter and more varied of tone and more expressive in delivery. Max Proebstl’s ringing bass-baritone is not as black-toned as some but he characterises the evil Kaspar vividly, keeping up with Kleiber’s urgent pace. Indeed, Eric Kleiber’s tempi are the antithesis of Furtwängler’s and the whole thing is lighter on its feet; the waltz is simultaneously fleet and rustic – such a contrast to Furtwängler’s serious demeanour. The Cologne orchestra is not perhaps as refined as plusher outfits but they play stylishly with vigour and commitment – especially the gung-ho horns. The lusty chorus are encouraged to indulge in lots of “rhubarb” in the crowd scenes which lends atmosphere. We get some abridged dialogue, delivered in lively fashion. The supporting cast is without a weak link and in many ways Kurt Böhme is better suited to intoning the Hermit’s decree than he is as Kaspar, but one sad drawback is that we do not get Rita Streich’s second Romance and Aria; apparently, she was unwell, but you would not guess it from her contributions to the duets with Grümmer and her delightful account of “Kommt ein schlanker Bursch”. The “Wolf’s Glen” scene is always of central importance in any recording and here it is done really well, with running water in the background, the ghostly chorus properly positioned in the distance, eerie delivery of the dialogue – a truly nasty Samiel – and enormous excitement in the orchestral passages.
There is always a surprise in any survey I undertake – and this is it; it is highly desirable, especially as an alternative to Furtwängler’s more cumbersome manner if that is not to your taste. The radio broadcast mono sound is very good – just a bit thin and scratchy – and it is available on two budget labels. If it were in stereo and had the missing aria for Ännchen it would easily sweep the field – as it is, I still want to hear it in preference to most other versions.
Joseph Keilberth – 1958 (studio, stereo); EMI
Orchestra – Berliner Philharmoniker
Chorus – Städtische Oper (Berlin)
Max – Rudolf Schock
Agathe – Elisabeth Grümmer
Kaspar – Karl Christian Kohn
Ottokar – Hermann Prey
Kuno – Ernst Wiemann
Kilian – Wilhelm Walter Dicks
Hermit – Gottlob Frick
Samiel – Fritz Hoppe
Ännchen – Lisa Otto
We finally enter the stereo era with this studio recording, which has long been the main alternative option to the later Carlos Kleiber account. This was the version whereby I was first exposed to this opera so I am to some degree imprinted, but I think that objectively speaking it is has many merits. However, my colleague Simon Thompson, reviewing this back in 2008, while praising the singing and sound, finds severe fault with the agogic character of Keilberth’s conducting and the crudity of the production sound effects. Slightly abridged but still quite extensive dialogue is included – with a German-only libretto. Regrettably, it is spoken by actors – but the match between spoken and singing voices is better than usual.
It seems that Alan Blyth in Opera on Record does not share ST’s reservations, nor do I, so I must suggest that you sample it on YouTube and see if it accords with your taste. I like Keilberth’s urgent, driven manner and am not fazed by his freer way with tempi. The orchestra and chorus are as energised as one could wish, clearly enjoying performing the work, contributing with real gusto, especially in the famous Huntsmen’s Chorus. The Peasants’ March and Bohemian Waltz both create a classical, Mozartian mood yet also have a “rustic” swing to them and the more Romantic passages are deeply felt, so I feel as if Keilberth bridges the two worlds.
Once again, Elisabeth Grümmer is the glory of the set, but she is prima inter pares in a fine cast. Rudolf Schock is a very acceptable compromise between lyric and Heldentenor, slightly cloudy of tone but a highly expressive vocal actor. Lisa Otto is a winsome, piping Ännchen and the trio of lower-voiced singers, all with names beginning with K, are uniformly fine: dark and incisive. I like Karl Christian Kohn’s febrile, even slightly hysterical Kaspar – he sounds unbalanced and is always suitably menacing; the “Wolf’s Glen” scene is a great success, sonically and dramatically, with Kaspar whispering his invocation and the creepiest Samiel on record, harsh and peremptory. The zest and zeal of the orchestra are especially apparent here. Further bonuses are the saturnine Gottlob Frick as the Hermit and a young, sappy-voiced Hermann Prey as Ottokar.
For me, this remains the most agreeable ensemble and interpretation to date.
Eugen Jochum – 1960 (studio, stereo); DG
Orchestra – Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks
Chorus – Chor des Bayerischen Rundfunks
Max – Richard Holm
Agathe – Irmgard Seefried
Kaspar – Kurt Böhme
Ottokar – Eberhard Wächter
Kuno – Albrecht Peter
Kilian – Paul Kuën
Hermit – Walter Kreppel
Samiel – Ernst Ginsberg
Ännchen – Rita Streich
I am not generally a Jochum fan but I was immediately impressed by his direction of a fine orchestra here and the depth of the sound; the overture is gripping. Furthermore, more famous names grace this recording but unfortunately they are not all the best exponents of their roles to be found – a warning signalled by the entrance of a weak Kilian in Paul Kuën, who was a superb Mime but is not suited to portraying the cocky, macho peasant. The cast includes Kurt Böhme in his fourth outing as Kaspar; he also sometimes sang the Hermit as per the recordings conducted by Erich Kleiber and von Matačić and he is once again suitably threatening with a good “evil laugh” but he tends to shout too much. Rita Streich reprises the role of Ännchen which she had already sung so successfully for Furtwängler and Keilberth. Richard Holm is sweet-voiced but over-parted and underpowered as Max and Irmgard Seefried is an unsatisfactory Agathe, often sounding windy, scratchy and unsteady compared with Grümmer; she is clearly – sadly – in decline here. The Kuno is very ordinary bur Wächter as Ottokar is luxury casting, as he has the free top range. I refer you to Mike Parr’s recent review, as it accurately reflects my own reactions and provides further information, so I will not redundantly reiterate his findings.
The “Wolf’s Glen” scene is quite atmospheric but I find the shouting, harsh-voiced Samiel more melodramatic than chilling. There are no “effects” – no clinking of the bullets as they are cast, for example – which means that it comes across as rather minimalist and “bald” compared with the production in the Keilberth version.
In brief, the conducting, chorus and orchestral playing in combination with good engineering are the best features of this recording; otherwise, there is much better to be found, especially among the principal singing roles.
Lovro von Matačić – 1967 (studio, stereo); Eurodisc/RCA/Lyrica
Orchestra & Chorus – Deutsche Oper (Berlin)
Max – Rudolf Schock
Agathe – Claire Watson
Kaspar – Gottlob Frick
Ottokar – Claudio Nicolai
Kuno – Fritz Ollendorf
Kilian – Klaus Lang
Hermit – Kurt Böhme
Samiel – Kurt Meisel
Ännchen – Lotte Schädle
We get fairly full dialogue here and the orchestral playing is good – but this is not a contender, for reasons of what Blyth rightly calls “stodgy conducting”, casting inadequacies and some oddly over-reverberant sound in the crowd scenes. Both Rudolf Schock and Kurt Böhme are beginning to sound too mature for their roles – the former labours in “O diese Sonne” and is not helped by von Matačić’s absurdly plodding tempo – the latter has here stepped down from Kaspar to sing the Hermit and now sounds rocky. The new Kaspar, Gottlob Frick, is wonderfully black-toned but has trouble wrapping his cavernous bass around the fast passage-work in the role so shouts and blusters to cover that up. Both Claire Watson and Lotte Schädle are musical but thin and shallow of tone compared with predecessors such as Grümmer and Streich. The Kilian, Kuno and Ottokar are no more than adequate – and the first is a bleater. There are lots of sound effects but they do not compensate for the generally lacklustre ambience, compounded by the conductor’s sloth, and the “Wolf’s Glen” scene falls flat.
I am generally fond of the work of von Matačić but this is a misfire. Another one to avoid.
Robert Heger – 1968 (studio, stereo); EMI
Orchestra & Chorus – Bayerische Staatsoper
Max – Nicolai Gedda
Agathe – Birgit Nilsson
Kaspar – Walter Berry
Ottokar – Wolfgang Anheißer
Kuno – Dieter Weller
Kilian – Jürgen Förster
Hermit – Franz Crass
Samiel – Wolfgang Büttner
Ännchen – Erika Köth
Given the distinguished names in the cast, it comes as a surprise that this is something of a flop. The highly experienced Heger – 82 at the time of the recording – conducts in the weightier, slower, Furtwängler mode, which is not necessarily a bad thing in itself but that style risks jettisoning the jolly, folksy side of this music in favour of always emphasising its grander aspects. The Bavarian orchestra plays beautifully, in similarly sonorous, portentous style; the dances lumber. As is virtually always the case, the chorus is clearly enjoying its part in proceedings, singing lustily and “rhubarbing” away in the crowd scenes.
Regarding the soloists, there are problems. Walter Berry is fine – in fact the best singer here; he is not the usual basso profondo but he sounds suitably vehement and nasty. The ever-reliable Franz Crass brings a touch of class to the role of the Hermit, even if he sounds rather noble and patrician – but we may revel in such a lovely voice, albeit fleetingly. Otherwise, the principal singers don’t seems very comfortable in their roles. Things begin badly with an awful Kilian; it’s criminal to undercast the first solo voice we hear. The Kuno and Ottokar are ordinary. Nicolai Gedda has nothing of the Heldentenor in his voice nor ever pretended to such, so ends up sounding strained, plaintive and even whiny, with an over-pronounced vibrato. Erika Köth is sweet, but small and twittery. The great Birgit Nilsson is horribly miscast, lowing and labouring, sliding up into and out of notes, sounding out of tune and cumbersome and just occasionally belting out top notes thrillingly and entirely unsuitably – this is not how I want to hear a favourite singer or this role.
As is so often the case with recordings of this opera, the Wolf’s Glen scene is the most successful, largely due to Berry’s histrionic and vocal skills, but we have another “shouty” Samiel rather than a smoothly evil voice and Gedda yelps too much. There are some welcome sound effects – a few clinks in the casting of the magic bullets and a wind machine; I do prefer a bit more in the way of theatrical atmospherics. Heger takes his time over the scene and it sags a bit compared with tauter accounts.
A shorter, adapted version of the dialogue is used; I think it is spoken by actors but I am not sure. A libretto with English translation is provided but that hardly matters as I advise against the acquisition of this set. Two unsatisfactory lead roles hole this beneath the water line.
Karl Böhm – 1972 (live, stereo); Orfeo
Orchestra & Chorus – Wiener Staatsoper
Max – James King
Agathe – Gundula Janowitz
Kaspar – Karl Ridderbusch
Ottokar – Eberhard Wächter
Kuno – Manfred Jungwirth
Kilian – Heinz Zednik
Hermit – Franz Crass
Samiel – Gustaf Elger
Ännchen – Renate Holm
One could hardly ask for a starrier cast than was assembled for Böhm here and this live performance is captured in excellent stereo sound – including a bit of inconsiderate coughing, unfortunately, right at the start and, unforgivably, during both Janowitz’ sublime “Leise, leise” and her “Und ob die Wolke” – even if the perspective is rather distant; we are in the balcony, aurally. The audience chuckles when the shot eagle thumps onto the stage. Applause is retained. The dialogue is pruned but preserves the essential.
Although I never first associate him with opera except in Strauss, I increasingly think Böhm’s best work was in that genre and he certainly sounds at home encompassing both the dark, brooding side of Weber’s inspiration and the bucolic high-jinks. He does not make the mistake of underplaying the verve and drive of the music in favour of portentousness and under his direction, the VSO – supposedly orchestral poor cousins to the VPO – hardly sounds inferior to their illustrious Viennese counterparts. The chorus is as energetic and full-voiced as in any recording I know and its members are clearly enjoy whooping and clumping around. I prefer a baritone Kilian but character tenor Heinz Zednik is spirited enough. James King’s robust, Heldentenor Max is a pleasure after too many whining, light-voiced exponents, even if he is a tad effortful. Karl Ridderbusch smooth, purring Kaspar, too, makes a change from the usual bellowing pantomime villain; he sounds wily and insidious, and negotiates the coloratura nimbly. I am disappointed, however, by Manfred Jungwirth’s rocky Kuno; I have heard him recorded in much better voice elsewhere – such as in his Ochs in Solti’s Der Rosenkavalier a few years earlier. Fortunately, it is a secondary role. Franz Crass is not quite as impressive as he was for Heger four years earlier, but still good; likewise Wächter is a little less flexible but still copes with the high tessitura of the role of Ottokar.
The ladies are lovely. In Renate Holm’s warm, rounded soprano we are spared any of the shrillness or squeakiness that sometimes afflicts the role of Ännchen and the solo viola is good in her mock ghost story. Just as she is the main attraction in Kleiber’s studio recording the following year, Gundula Janowitz is a dream; hers is the voice which comes across most vividly here – and she wins rapturous applause for both her set piece arias.
Effects are minimal in the “Wolf’s Glen” apart from a bit of wind machine and thunder, and at the start the spectral chorus sounds too close but it comes off well enough. The Samiel is scary; he is a shouter but his voice sounds paradoxically both distant and amplified/given extra reverberation.
I could wish that the sound were more closely recorded here and devoid of coughing, but those are not major drawbacks. Otherwise, this is a fine souvenir of a first-rate performance, even if it lacks the impact and immediacy of a well-engineered studio recording.
Wolfgang Sawallisch – 1973 (live radio broadcast, stereo); Mitridate Ponto/Myto/Opera Depot
Orchestra & Chorus – RAI Roma
Max – James King
Agathe – Margaret Price
Kaspar – Karl Ridderbusch
Ottokar – Mario Ferrara
Kuno – Mario Macchi
Kilian – Andrea Snarski
Hermit – Anton Diakov
Samiel – Rolf Tasna
Ännchen – Helen Donath
This is a fine recording from the unlikely venue of Rome but with a German-speaking/domiciled cast of principals and the minor roles well sung by three Italians and a sonorous Bulgarian bass as the Hermit. The sound is good radio stereo but tends to fade in and out of focus and there is the occasional cough. Applause is retained. Sawallisch was utterly reliable in such repertoire; never one to hang about or over-indulge, he drives the performance forward energetically. He has a great feel for the dances which lilt appealingly without dragging. The RAI sounds surprisingly idiomatic and once again the chorus is lively – even if their words are rather indistinct. Two of those principal singers here repeat the fine performances they gave for Böhm the year before, exhibiting the same virtues, and Margaret Price is hardly a makeshift substitute for Janowitz, being similarly pure, fluty and crystalline of voice. Likewise, the charming Helen Donath is no slouch as Ännchen – she is agile and perky without being shrill. They make a delightful pair.
As with the Böhm recording, the chorus in the “Wolf’s Glen” scene is good but too present. With the same singers, it is similarly successful, although they, too, are rather too closely recorded and the echo of Kaspar’s voice is too loud – but these are minor cavils and a powerfully oppressive atmosphere is created – but then, horrors! Inexplicably, the first and crucial exchange between Kaspar and the demon Samiel, which does so much to add to the drama, is wholly cut. Goodness knows why such a crass decision was taken.
Dialogue is minimal but sufficient to provide links. For many reasons, this is in many ways very similar to Böhm’s live recording immediately above and if that brutally excised dialogue with Kaspar and Samiel had been included, I would hardly have been able to choose between them. As it is, for all its virtues that cut renders it recommendable only as a supplement.
Carlos Kleiber – 1973 (studio, stereo); DG
Orchestra – Dresdener Staatskapelle
Chorus – Chor des Leipziger Rundfunks
Max – Peter Schreier
Agathe – Gundula Janowitz
Kaspar – Theo Adam
Ottokar – Bernd Weikl
Kuno – Siegfried Vogel
Kilian – Günther Leib
Hermit – Franz Crass
Samiel – Gerhard Paul
Ännchen – Edith Mathis
While this is the reference recording for many and I recognise its many virtues, I do not share an unquestioning devotion to it. For a start, any regular readers of my reviews and surveys will know that I have an antipathy to nasal, strangulated German tenors of the kind Peter Schreier typifies; for me, Hopf, Schock and King are comparatively balm to my ears. Furthermore, actors are used for the speaking parts, almost always resulting in mismatch problems. Baritone Günther Leib who sings Kilian bears a remarkable vocal resemblance to Fischer-Dieskau; make of that what you will – he is certainly characterful, but his gravelly-voiced actor counterpart sounds nothing like him. No more does the actor Kaspar sound like bass-baritone Theo Adam – incidentally, singing the role in one of those phases when his vibrato is quite obtrusive and without the inky menace required – and so on. Surely it would have made sense to at least attempt to match them. Finally, although he injects excitement into proceedings, Kleiber also arguably sometimes overdoes the speed-merchant tempi shtick; the waltz and march are too fast and his chorus sometimes audibly struggles to keep up – yet in the slow passages they sound incongruously like a pious church choir.
On the credit side, the DG sound is rich and deep and the playing of the Dresden orchestra the best – such beautiful horn tone in the slow introduction to the overture sets up the listener for an aural feast. Kleiber finds phrasal nuances, shades and dynamic subtleties in the score which other conductors pass over. Janowitz is once again ethereal; indeed, both the ladies are simply ideal – two of the most beautiful voices of their era and they blend perfectly while remaining very recognisably individual. The young Bernd Weikl is a vibrant, striking Ottokar. Franz Crass nobly reprises his signature cameo role of the Hermit for the third time and is in best voice. The smooth-voiced Siegfried Vogel sings Kuno neatly, if without any great presence. The Wolf’s Glen scene is effective, but as per some of my comments above, I prefer the ghostly choir to be more distanced. However, the singing per se is impressive and the whispered invocations to Samiel contrast tellingly with the demon’s rejoinders – although he doesn’t have much of an evil snarl and his first reply, “Was rufst du?”, is masked by the orchestral blast – and Adam’s wobble and Schreier’s whine still irk me. Furthermore, there is almost comical contrast between the actor Kaspar’s screeches and snarls compared with the singer Adam’s round tones – the mismatch is egregious.
The dialogue used here is the somewhat pruned version and it is one of the few issues to include an English translation for the German. (The cover famously depicts a double-barrelled shotgun instead of a marksman’s rifle – a stupid design error which has now endured uncorrected for over fifty years.)
In brief, I want this set on my shelves for a number of reasons but do not ascribe to the opinion that it is flawless – in fact, as is evident, quite a few things about it are unsatisfactory despite points of excellence.
Rafael Kubelik – 1979 (studio, stereo); Decca
Orchestra – Sinfonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks
Chorus – Chor des Bayerischen Rundfunks
Max – René Kollo
Agathe – Hildegard Behrens
Kaspar – Peter Meven
Ottokar – Wolfgang Brendel
Kuno – Raimund Grumbach
Kilian – Hermann Sapell
Hermit – Kurt Moll
Samiel – Rolf Boysen
Ännchen – Helen Donath
This is a gentler, more relaxed account than Kleiber’s, in warm Decca sound; the effect is more folksy and gemütlich, as Kubelik does not go to such extremes of tempo. Set pieces like the rustic dance plod somewhat. The relatively weak, mundane Kilian and Kuno set the tone; the dialogue is naturalistically delivered without undue histrionics; for me, somehow this recording resolutely refuses to take off and the emotional temperature remains tepid. Nothing about the conducting or any voice here makes the listener sit up. Kollo’s flapping vibrato, sliding from note to note and unlovely tone are no assets; I have heard him in much better voice elsewhere. Peter Meven is better as Kaspar, suitably dark and dour, but he snatches at top notes and sound rather too noble and benign. Helen Donath is once more a charming Ännchen but Hildegard Behrens, in a role which above all demands lyricism over drama, while being perfectly pleasant, cannot erase memories of Janowitz, Grümmer and Price. Much of the time, she sounds rather arch.
For once, the spirits are properly distanced in the “Wolf’s Glen” scene. The Samiel is aptly voiced but over-amplified. By contrast, on his entry Kollo’s Max is oddly over-distanced, presumably to indicate that he has not yet descended into the gulf. Meven – or is it an actor? I am unclear – narrates the casting of bullets as if giving us a recipe for scones; it is mostly all very low-key but lifted a little by some sound effects which are more dramatic than the singing or playing. The only real excitement comes much later with Kurt Moll’s thrilling intoning of the Hermit’s decree – but I cannot recommend a recording on the basis of that brief intervention.
I am normally a fan of Kubelik’s work but there is very little about this anodyne performance to recommend it over more animated, better sung recordings. I really wouldn’t bother.
Colin Davis – 1990 (studio, digital); Philips
Orchestra – Staatskapelle Dresden
Chorus – Rundfunkchor Leipzig
Max – Francisco Araiza
Agathe – Karita Mattila
Kaspar – Ekkehard Wlaschina
Ottokar – Siegfried Lorenz
Kuno – Thomas Thomaschke
Kilian – Andreas Scheibner
Hermit – Kurt Moll
Samiel – Will Quadflieg
Ännchen – Eva Lind
I admit to coming to this recording with low expectations, insofar as Davis’ later LSO account is a non-starter and I have found his work with the Staatskapelle Dresden to be inconsistent. Furthermore, being no lover of Francisco Araiza’s throttled tenor, I could not imagine that the semi-Heldentenor role of Max would suit him.
However, things begin well with the brooding introduction to the overture, a dramatic development, superb orchestral and recorded sound, and a general sense of tension and expectation. Davis seems to be in the grand Furtwängler mode, giving real weight to the orchestration and tempi and is neglectful of the cheery, “folksy” element. The chorus is similarly beefy and number after number is emphatically rhythmically four-square – or even plodding, depending on your perception. In truth, I find it cumbersome and charmless; the Waltz in particular is ridiculously handicapped by Davis’ elephantine deliberateness.
Matching that approach is the pleasantly surprising heft Araiza’s summons up in his set pieces, even if I still do not like his essential timbre; he is quite similar to Schreier but actually has more power – and Davis’ leisureliness means that he sings his music much more slowly. Again, this is a matter of taste but at several points in the first aria “”Nein, länger trag’ ich nicht die Quälen” momentum almost grinds to a halt as he savours the text and I am metaphorically glancing at my watch. However, that slowness works better for the creeping – and creepy – opening of the “Wolf’s Glen” scene, which is treated to some nice aural effects with a resonant acoustic and good bells. The Samiel is one of the best: malevolent but not shouty.
Ekkehard Wlaschina’s Kaspar is somewhat hampered by Davis’s slow tempo – perhaps adopted because he does not seem very adept in negotiating the small notes or because they are integral to Davis’ concept – or both. He is sturdy-voiced but slides, snarls and snatches at top notes.
The two leading ladies are pleasing, although Mattila tends to overpower Lind in the duets and neither has the special pure, shimmering quality which distinguishes predecessors like Grümmer, Janowitz and Price, and Streich, Holm, Donath and Mathis as Agathe and Ännchen respectively – indeed Lind’s soprano tends to turn edgy. Mattila’s singing of her two great arias is warm and heartfelt but inescapably earthbound.
The Kilian is lively but the chorus-member sopranos in the bridal party are weak and Siegfried Lorenz’ Ottokar is not impressive. Kurt Moll as the Hermit again matches Franz Crass for dignity and vocal beauty – but as I have previously remarked, nobody buys Der Freischütz for the secondary roles. The solo singing is generally no more than fair but in any case for me Davis’ frequently portentous manner fatally compromises this as a dramatic experience.
Marek Janowski – 1994 (studio, digital); RCA
Orchestra – Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin
Chorus – Rundfunkchor Berlin
Max – Peter Seiffert
Agathe – Sharon Sweet
Kaspar – Kurt Rydl
Ottokar – Andreas Schmidt
Kuno – Anton Scharinger
Kilian – Roman Trekel
Hermit – Matthias Hölle
Samiel – Peter Matic
Ännchen – Ruth Ziesak
This is the first of Janowski’s two studio recordings separated by twenty-four years. I confess to having had no great expectations of it prior to listening but was then in so many ways very pleasantly surprised. It is well recorded in a venue celebrated for its acoustic – the Jesus-Christus-Kirche – although occasionally it sounds slightly over-reverberant. It is also very well played by the Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin and energetically sung by a committed chorus; both sound entirely idiomatic and at home with every mood of the music. Janowski’s conducting is typically unobtrusive; he avoids any obvious point-making, simply for the most part making apt choices of tempi and balances without tinkering – although occasionally he rushes the music; thus the waltz (CD 1, band 6) is really too fast. However, I like the way he uses a reduced village band sound for the Peasants’ March, to which he applies a suitably spritely tempo without over-doing it. The secondary roles are well sung, especially the young baritone Roman Trekel’s attractive, light-voiced Kilian. Bass Anton Scharinger’s Kuno sounds very similar to Kurt Rydl – which is no bad thing (see below). Andreas Schmidt is a virile Ottokar. The women chorus members in “Schöner, grüner Jungfernkranz!” are for once all first-class. Matthias Hölle is no Franz Crass or Kurt Moll but adequately sonorous and hieratic.
The dialogue is more than competently spoken by the singers themselves except for Sharon Sweet and Roman Trekel – I wonder why, as he is German – for whose speech actors are employed – but they have been cunningly selected such that we avoid any jarring mismatch between singing and speaking voices.
Regarding the principal singers, tenor Peter Seiffert is quite light-toned as Max, but clean, youthful and penetrating with a quick vibrato – and able to summon up sufficient heroic ardour for climactic points. Kurt Rydl is close to ideal as Kaspar, dark, resonant and mostly free of the rockiness which crept into his voice in later years. He has the top notes and the requisite agility – a hint of aspiration notwithstanding. Furthermore, he sounds truly malevolent when both speaking and singing. I would go so far as to assert that he is the best Kaspar I have encountered. Neither of the two leading ladies is the last word in vocal beauty or individuality compared with some of the distinguished partnerships above and Sharon Sweet’s vibrato can on occasion pulse a little too obtrusively but she has ample, warm tone; she and the pure and charming Ruth Ziesak make a highly enjoyable and vocally both well-matched and well-contrasted team.
The crucial “Wolf’s Glen” scene is highly atmospheric. As is often the case, I find the excellent chorus to be too closely recorded but the Samiel is grim and forbidding without being hammy. Rydl enunciates his summons and incantation with force and resonance. Seiffert’s entrance finds him summoning up more bite and volume in order to make his orchestrally accompanied recitativo sound desperate and fearful. The sequence of supernatural episodes accompanying the casting of the bullets is strikingly realised with real power and immediacy – and a good echo, too; too often, that effect is botched.
Unfortunately, no libretto is provided; just a synopsis. However, this was the second of two recordings which proved to be a welcome surprise, the other being Erich Kleiber’s old mono account.
Nikolaus Harnoncourt – 1995 (live composite, digital); Teldec
Orchestra – Berliner Philharmoniker
Chorus – Rundfunkchor Berlin
Max – Endrik Wottrich
Agathe – Ľuba Orgonášová
Kaspar – Matti Salminen
Ottokar – Wolfgang Holzmair
Kuno – Gilles Cachemaille
Kilian – Wolfgang Holzmair
Hermit – Kurt Moll
Samiel – Ekkehard Schall
Ännchen – Christine Schäfer
I refer you to Simon Thompson’s review back in 2009 which says most of what I would say, especially with regard to the drawbacks of the sound and the qualities of the singers, so I will not belabour the points he has already well made. This certainly has its virtues, not least the ever-under-rated Orgonášová’s Agathe, the beauty of the BPO’s playing under Harnoncourt’s judicious – indeed, unusually restrained but apt – direction, a spooky “Wolf’s Glen” scene – even if Samiel sounds like an old guy shouting over the garden fence – and for the third time in a recording here, a splendid, rock-solid Hermit in Kurt Moll.
Disadvantages are Wolfgang Holzmair’s throaty baritone doubling up, Salminen’s oddly toned and often woolly Kaspar, Christine Schäfer’s chirpy but small-voiced Ännchen and, above all, Endrik Wottrich’s constricted tenor – at least two sizes too small.
Whatever its pros and cons, this remains a Hamlet without the prince.
Bruno Weil – 2001 (studio, digital); Deutsche Harmonia Mundi
Orchestra – Cappella Coloniensis
Chorus – Chor des Westdeutschen Rundfunks
Max – Christoph Prégardien
Agathe – Petra Maria Schnitzer
Kaspar – Georg Zeppenfeld
Ottokar – Christian Gerhaher
Kuno – Friedemann Röhlig
Kilian – Christian Gerhaher
Hermit – Andreas Hörl
Samiel – Markus John
Ännchen – Johanna Stojkovic
This was not a recording to set me salivating, as I have no taste for Christoph Prégardien’s small, unimposing tenor or Christian Gerhaher’s squeezed baritone and apart from Georg Zeppenfeld the rest of the cast were unknown to me. The playing of the overture suggests that conductor Bruno Weil had listened to Harnoncourt’s way with the music and derived some tips on how to give a modern orchestra period characteristics – although I do not find that the reduced scale and harsher, cruder sonics especially enhance my enjoyment. Furthermore, the dialogue has been replace with a link-narrative by…Samiel? Why? Most peculiar.
Excellent digital, studio sound notwithstanding, I find this whole recording to be a complete non-event. The principal singers are mostly weak and at best ordinary, as is the supporting cast. The Agathe is criminally undistinguished. The “Wolf’s Glen” scene is thoroughly domesticated and the supposedly female chorus is shouting “Hui” in our ear. Georg Zeppenfeld as Kaspar sounds as if he is inviting Samiel to tea and the object of his invitation is another grumpy old heavy-smoker, not a terrifying seducer of souls. The Hermit is devoid of resonant low notes and so constricted he sounds like Kermit with a cold. The whole thing is so perverse, small-scale and pusillanimous that I lose all patience with it; it is literally one of the worst commercial recordings I have ever heard. You can do so much better than this abomination with virtually any other recording here, including even those which aren’t all that good.
Marek Janowski – 2018 (studio, digital); Pentatone
Orchestra – Frankfurt Radio Symphony
Chorus – MDR Leipzig Radio Choir
Max – Andreas Schager
Agathe – Lise Davidsen
Kaspar – Alan Held
Ottokar – Markus Eiche
Kuno – Andreas Bauer
Kilian – Christoph Filler
Hermit – Franz-Josef Selig
Samiel – Corinna Kirchhoff
Ännchen – Sofia Fomina
Peter Simonischek – Hermit (speaker)
This second of Janowski’s recordings was approvingly reviewed on the MusicWeb site shortly after its release. Its main attraction is the presence of Lise Davidsen, but balanced against that are what must be for some listeners two obstacles to appreciating it: the replacement of the original spoken dialogue, by a linking narration and the modish expedient of making the demonic Samiel feminine.
The sound by Pentatone is superb, the best of any here, reproducing as faithfully as possible the burnished sound of the Frankfurt Radio Symphony orchestra – great horns and woodwind. Janowski’s long experience informs his pacing such that both suspense and excitement, rubato and momentum, are neatly gauged. He gets the speed of the villagers’ march and dance right when so many conductors fumble it – and the band is nicely rustic. The chorus is perfectly placed such that they are not yelling in our ears but their words are clear.
To the solo singing, in the order that we hear the singers: Christoph Filler is a neat, incisive, characterful Kilian who doesn’t overdo the sneering, so it is such a shock when Corinna Kirchhoff’s cackling witch of a narrator assaults our ears; I simply do not understand why the original dialogue should be cancelled. My discomfort is then intensified by the entry of Max and Kuno; both have not the “slightly wide vibrato” alluded to by some previous reviewers but in fact the most appalling wobble. It really is reprehensible to take an artist of Lise Davidsen’s calibre and pair her with two such inadequate voices; I find Schager absolutely unlistenable.
Alan Held is at least…well, very ordinary rather than poor; there is no steel in the voice and his baritone is clearly too light to suggest Kaspar depth of malevolence. “Schweig! Schweig!” should be a gothic high-point but he is just yelling – very disappointing. Markus Eiche is a pleasant Ottokar but to cap it all, and jumping forward, Franz-Josef Selig is a horribly laboured, wobbly Hermit. Shame on Pentatone for permitting such a heedless casting policy. At least Sofia Fomina is pert and sparkly as Ännchen but we are not listening to a major voice of the calibre of her predecessors.
That is not the case with Lise Davidsen. Her soprano is unusually big, dark and dramatic for the role of Agathe – but then, she has just been signed up for a future Brünnhilde at the Met. However, is she right for the role? That is a matter of taste; I am more comfortable with the silvery, shimmering sound of Janowitz or Grümmer; Davidsen is more similar in timbre to Sharon Sweet in the earlier Janowski recording, so perhaps he simply prefers that kind of voice in the role. I certainly enjoy both those heavier-voiced singers and it is a joy to hear so large a voice as Davidsen’s sing out freely with such intensity of emotion and expression, floating an exquisite A flat, even if she can also sometimes sound just a tad cumbersome – but for me, she is the only really bright vocal spot in this recording, so I cannot really recommend it unless you are a Davidsen groupie.
René Jacobs – 2021 (studio, digital); Harmonia Mundi
Freiburg Baroque Orchestra
Chorus: Zurich Sing-Akademie
Max – Maximilian Schmitt
Agathe – Polina Pasztircsák
Kaspar – Dimitry Ivashchenko
Ottokar – Yannick Debus
Kuno – Matthias Winckhler
Kilian – Yannick Debus
Hermit – Christian Immler
Samiel – Max Urlacher
Ännchen – Kateryna Kasper
This latest recording of Der Freischütz is a confection born of the conviction similar to that which motivated the changes in the second of Janowski’s recordings: that it will have greater appeal to modern audiences if it is subjected to some intervention. It has not been reviewed on this website but has been welcomed elsewhere as permitting the opera “to finally make sense”. I was not aware that it needed such a remedy any more than many an opera and am thus less than convinced, but at least it has not been modernised in the now very tired and clichéd manner of everyone dressed in leather as jackbooted Fascists brandishing machine guns, or being set in a psychiatric ward – ah no; Jacobs had something more subtle and indeed “historically informed” in mind: he has inserted additional spoken dialogue and written three new musical numbers, all of which are based on passages from Friedrich Kind’s libretto which Weber early decided to omit.
Thus, we now have the prologue restored as Kind originally conceived it, in the form of a conversation between Agathe and the Hermit, who gives her white roses for her protection, thus providing more context for and explanation of her survival of the errant shot. The Hermit now has a new opening aria, “Allerbarmen”, and there is a new duet for him and Agathe, both derived from music found elsewhere in the work. The third new musical number is a drinking song for Kuno, composed by Schubert seven years earlier for a now forgotten spoken-dialogue opera, Des Teufels Lustschloss (The Devil’s Pleasure Palace); it is thus an import but its musical style is consistent with Weber’s. Jacobs’ additions are hardly radical, insofar as the insertion of new arias or the importation of arias from other works – known as arie di baule or “trunk arias” – were commonplace practices in Weber’s era – but they are surprising to modern listeners habituated to more conventional recordings.
All of this is perhaps interesting, even intriguing, but of little consequence unless the performance itself is of high quality. As ever, despite not usually being much enamoured of Jacobs forays into period recordings of opera, I tried to audition this recording with an open mind.
I like the raw tone of the horns in the overture and the grainy woodwind, even if I do not care for the whining, vibrato-free strings – but let that pass; Jacobs’ tempi are mostly good and there is plenty of energy and attack, even if the waltz is taken ridiculously fast.
Bass-baritone Christian Immler apart, none of the singers here was known to me. His is the first voice we hear and he has a touch of the throatiness in vocal production so common among German singers but it will not trouble many listeners, even if he is not the basso profondo ideal in the role of Hermit. That opening aria is first recitativo accompagnato, then music already vaguely familiar to anyone who knows this work. Every word of Immler’s German dialogue is crystal clear even to anyone like me, whose German is more passive than active. Polina Pasztircsák as Agathe is less pleasing; her soprano has an edgy, breathy quality and loses body in alt, while her lower register is undeveloped and lacks penetration. Her arias pass by bereft of the magic greater singers bestow upon them and the whining strings are really irritating. The chorus, however, is first class – as good as any. The hard sticks, squeaky woodwind and blaring brass are ideal to convey the raw verve the Peasants’ March – but then we start to encounter vocal problems: too many wobbles, the curse of modern conservatory output, starting with the Kilian, who also overworks his dialogue, followed by a Max and Kaspar who exhibit that same fault. They are not as bad as Andreas Schager for Janowski but I begin to despair of modern singers escaping that curse. I wonder, too, whether conductors and record labels do not or cannot hear it. Furthermore, Dimitry Ivashchenko’s Kaspar is hoarse and devoid of top notes, which he snatches at and still sounds horribly flat. He is absolutely no match for famous exponents of that role.
The best singer here is Kateryna Kasper as Ännchen, whose speaking and singing voice is richer and deeper than Agathe’s – in fact, she sounds more like a mezzo. Her arias are for me the vocal highlights of this recording and make me wonder why the role of Ännchen is traditionally assigned to a soubrette, especially as her line usually lies lower than Agathe’s.
The non-native German speakers have evidently been very well coached but the both the speaking and singing voice of the Kuno sound too light for a supposedly bass role. His drinking song is a brief, jolly, inconsequential piece and I don’t think it adds much if anything at all to the opera.
There are some production anomalies: the volume suddenly peaks for “”Nein, länger trag’ ich” and there are a lot of sound effects, some of which work and some of which are superfluous – particularly the ridiculously cartoonish rendering of the shot eagle plummeting to earth and the chorus imitating howling wolves. It frequently sounds like a different – even new – work, and that isn’t always to its advantage. The more familiar passages of the “Wolf’s Glen” scene are more successful but the male chorus is recorded too closely and individual voices obtrude instead of their sounding like a ghostly horde. Samiel is an amiable old buffer, about as scary as a lollipop man.
In sum, this a confusing and frustrating mixed bag of a recording and certainly not on my recommended list.
(The booklet has very detailed notes and includes a complete libretto as adapted, and translations into French and English.)
Recommendations:
Some operas have led a charmed discographical life and rendered a top recommendation really difficult. Not so Der Freischütz; undertaking this survey revealed to me how difficult it has proved to pull off a really successful recording of this seminal work – so many are flawed by lacklustre conducting, casting issues, odd production choices, cuts and wayward sound engineering. Nonetheless, clear favourites emerged. The earliest two recordings are valuable as supplements and Furtwängler’s is special but perhaps recommendable as “a wild card” rather than a mainstream choice. If you like Peter Schreier more than I, I can understand an overall preference for Carlos Kleiber’s 1973 recording and I simply must have Janowitz’ Agathe in at least one recording, but her live performance with Böhm is artistically just as recommendable, inferior live sound notwithstanding. Most of the more modern, digital era recordings reviewed above tend to pale in comparison with the classic stereo era issues of the 50s to the 70s – and one is an absolute stinker – so once again, with almost wearisome predictability, I have to go back in time fifty, sixty, seventy years for three of my recommendations. However, there is an unexpected and very welcome exception in Janowski’s earlier, digital account, which I recommend jointly with Keilberth’s above all. I must also put aside my own tastes and say that for anyone who wants a radical, modern revision and partial re-imagining of this work, on period instruments, René Jacobs’ newest set will be attractive, even if the singing is variable.
Mono live: Erich Kleiber 1955
Stereo studio: Keilberth 1958*
Stereo live: Böhm 1972
Digital studio: Janowski 1994*
*First recommendations
Ralph Moore
