Richard Wagner (1813-83) 
Der Ring des Nibelungen
Bayreuth Festival Chorus and Orchestra/Joseph Keilberth
rec. live stereo, July 1955, Bayreuth Festival, Bayreuth, Germany
Testament SBT141412 [14 CDs: 850]

At a time when barely a month goes by without the release of yet another remastering of the Solti Ring Cycle, I often wonder why whenever I feel the need to enter Wagner’s magical world of gods, dwarves, Rhinemaidens and humans, Solti’s is rarely the version I choose to take down from my shelves. Of course, the Decca project is a fantastic achievement and perhaps deserves its sobriquet of ‘Recording of the Century’ that Gramophone Magazine imperiously bestowed upon it – albeit, just about (whisper it, but I find that Solti’s Die Walküre is trumped by both Leinsdorf’s and Karajan’s studio versions from the same decade, as well as Karl Böhm’s live account from Bayreuth from the same time; not something that exactly helps the argument for it being the ‘greatest recording of the century’). I well remember that when Testament started to issue the Ring Cycle under review here, critics practically fell over themselves awarding it adulation and plaudits. After all, yes, the cast is great, but merely contains the usual denizens of the Green Hill from that time; Keilberth was admittedly a fine conductor but he was a hardly a Krauss or Knappertsbusch, who led the 1953 and 1956 Cycles at Bayreuth respectively, and yes, I’m sure the sound is good, too, although I’m also of the opinion that it would take singular skill to produce a bad one at such a sympathetic venue as Bayreuth. There must have been a very good reason why Decca, and John Culshaw in particular, wanted it shelved to produce their own studio account of the Cycle; in which case, then surely this Keilberth cycle cannot really be that good?

The opening of Das Rheingold with that marvellous, low E Flat is meant to evoke the depths of the Rhine. With Krauss in 1953, the swishiness and vagueness of the sound seems to conjure up images from the bottom of a washing up bowl (although it improves markedly thereafter, especially in its remastering by Pristine), while the Knappertsbusch in 1956 also manages to capture an equal amount of audience shuffles and noise as the orchestra at this point. Here in 1955, I must doff my hat to the original Decca recording team – the sound is indeed surprisingly fine; okay, not as good as with Solti in the studio a few years later, but still very good, remarkably so for a live recording of such vintage (you can even hear the soft hissing of Bayreuth’s infamous ‘smoke machine’, conjuring up misty images of the Rhine). Then on float the Rhinemaidens of Jutta Vulpius, Elisabeth Schartel and Maria Graf, as fine as any, although I must concede I’ve yet to hear a bad set of water ladies in my time. However, as ever with Bayreuth, one notices the perfect balance between stage and pit, more easily appreciated than usual thanks to the Decca team’s clear sound. Gustav Neidlinger lumbers on, black and steady of tone; the likes of his Alberich don’t exist today, but they did in the 1953 and 1956 Cycles (as well as on Solti/Decca). The scene changes and Hans Hotter appears as Wotan, noticeably wobblier than he was in 1953. Keilberth’s conducting up until this point had been swift and supportive – I actually prefer my Ring to have more of the fire of Krauss than the epic introspection of Knappertsbusch, but even I baulked as the giants practically goose-stepped onto stage, such is Keilberth’s heavy touch on the accelerator at this point. Okay, Levine’s slow-motion juggernauts on Deutsche Grammophon are surely a major miscalculation on the part of the conductor in his Met Ring Cycle, but at the opposite extreme, so are Keilberth’s speed merchants. You are unlikely ever to encounter a finer pair of giants of Ludwig Weber and Josef Greindl, but you can find Loges more characterful than Rudolf Lustig’s. And so it continues, the remainder of the cast made up of stalwarts at Bayreuth from that time, culminating in a satisfying, if not exactly earth-shattering Das Rheingold which, to be frank, is not as good as Georg Solti in the studio and, providing you are more tolerant of Fischer-Dieskau’s Wotan than some, nor Karajan’s either, let alone the Krauss in his 1953 Cycle.

Die Walküre, though, bursts onto the scene with some thrilling orchestral fireworks from the pit, with Keilberth audibly conjuring up a mighty storm; such is the conductor’s skill, one can quite easily visualise the shattered Siegmund bursting through the door and falling to the floor exhausted in Hunding’s dwelling, the wind machine softly adding its own ghostly whispers in accompaniment, the door clearly open, showing the audience, as well as us the listeners, the raging elements outside. Rámon Vinay is our man here; we know him, of course, as being the Otello from Toscannini’s famous recording of Verdi’s opera and he also makes a very fine Siegmund, just lacking the intensity and angst that Jon Vickers almost uniquely brought to the part in the studio for Karajan (DG) and Leinsdorf (RCA). On the Leinsdorf, Gré Brouwenstijn is also the Sieglinde, as she is here – not my favourite singer and certainly not better than Régine Crespin for Solti, nor Gundula Janowitz for Karajan, but nonetheless still very fine. Josef Greindl is Hunding and exceptional – but then, so is Gottlob Frick for Solti, Martti Talvela for Karajan and Kurt Moll for Levine. In Act II, Astrid Varnay is Brünnhilde – her opening hojotohos aren’t quite as spectacular as with La Nilsson for Solti and Böhm (but then, with the possible exception of Flagstad’s, whose are?), however she possesses a warmth and wit that evades that Icy Princess and rivals Crespin for Karajan; she promises much for the later instalments. Hotter is Wotan; he is great – unless you have heard him for Krauss in 1953 where with barely a trace of the wobble present here he sounds every inch god-like, his rage truly terrifying at the end of the Act and the beginning of the next. Once more, Keilberth conducts conventionally enough; he doesn’t match the warmth and ecstasy of Karajan in Act I and the start of his Ride is slightly understated (especially when compared to Leinsdorf), although it grows to a satisfying climax. The orchestral passage towards the end of the final Act when Wotan forgives his daughter and just before he kisses away her godhead, is rushed and unsubtle – maybe Keilberth was responding to stage directions at this point, but this is disappointing and lacks the emotional thrust the music demands. The sound is beyond belief for a live recording in 1955, but once again this is deeply satisfying rather than revelatory.

However, the true measure of Decca’s achievement in this recorded Ring Cycle can be gauged from the opening of Siegfried, the dark murmurings of Wagner’s primordial forest coming through with perfect clarity and atmosphere – remarkable. Mime is the first character to appear and, as with Rheingold in this cycle, is Paul Kuen; his is a fine assumption of the role, less characterful than Gerhard Stolze for both Karajan and Solti perhaps (who in any case is a bit over the top in the Solti), but he enunciates the text well and captures the exasperation of the dwarf as his ward takes absolutely no notice of him. I found Hotter to be on better form in this work than previously; maybe The Wanderer, more introspective than in the two previous operas, didn’t aggravate his wobble quite as much and allowed him to sing the text with probably more insight than anyone else in the second half of the last century. His spear is broken by the eponymous hero and I was quite bowled over by Wolfgang Windgassen’s assumption of the role here; in fresher voice than he was for Solti and Böhm later, more experienced than with Krauss, Windgassen perfectly captures the mixture of heroism and youthful ardour of Wagner’s flawed hero. He is matched by his Brünnhilde, Astrid Varnay, whose tone, warmer and more feminine than the laser-like Nilsson, more animated than the stately Flagstad, is almost my favourite fallen demi-goddess of all, qualities shown incontestably in her awakening scene in Act III. If I marginally prefer her in this scene at Bayreuth in 1951 under Karajan, it’s only because her conductor there, working on a larger scale than he would allow in Berlin some two decades later, weaves an orchestral tapestry of almost Straussian richness that I have not heard equalled elsewhere – the sound in 1951, though, to borrow a famous phrase, is like gaslight to the glory on offer here courtesy of Decca and Testament. This isn’t to knock Keilberth, mind you – he paces the work perfectly and the whole performance brings enormous satisfaction. The sum of the parts here, then, makes it a very considerable whole; I was hugely impressed.

So on to Götterdämmerung, my favourite of the tetralogy and, quite possibly, along with Tristan, my favourite Wagner opera of all. Varnay and Windgassen, so wonderful at the end of Siegfried, do not disappoint in their Act I duet either; they are as resplendent as any save Flagstad and Melchior under the cosmic baton of Furtwängler in frustratingly brief excerpts at Covent Garden from 1937. Indeed, I find it hard to pick fault in either of their performances here – this is my favourite (complete) Siegfried and Varnay’s Brünnhilde would have been my favourite, too, were it not for the tantalising glimpse of Frida Leider, electrifying in the oath scene in Act II, once more in excerpts at Covent Garden with Furtwängler, this time in 1938. That said, Varnay’s warmth, power and understanding of the role, leads to an overwhelming Immolation Scene – the audience appears quite stunned at the end, the applause starting quite a few seconds after the final note has died away. Fortunately, all of these great assumptions are matched elsewhere, especially with Gustav Niedlinger’s Alberich and Hermann Uhde’s Gunther, the latter even making the role sound interesting! Greindl, as has been noted elsewhere, may have been matched in his portrayals down the years, but his Hagen is still a formidable assumption, likewise Gré Brouwenstijn’s Gutrune. As this cycle progresses, Keilberth, for me, grows stronger and stronger and he paces Götterdämmerung in a masterly fashion. Everything sounds so unforced and right, the great Himalayan peaks in Act III of the Funeral March and the close of the whole work are approached naturally and make an impact with all the force that they should. And the sound is once more flawless …

So overall, this is a richly rewarding Ring Cycle. It is more consistently sung than both Solti and Karajan in the studio, with their mid-flight Wotan change-overs and any subsequent cycles thereafter, either from the studio or live, just cannot compete vocally. With much the same casts, it is also in markedly better sound than any of the Furtwänglers, as well as being better than either Krauss in 1953 or Knappertsbusch in 1956 – indeed Testament’s sonics here are more than a match for the live Böhm/Bayreuth and Goodall/ENO accounts made several years after. Keilberth does not attempt the fiery incandescence of Krauss, or the epic grandeur of Knappertsbusch, but what he does perhaps better than nearly any other conductor, is to narrate the story, thereby wielding this Ring into a satisfying whole, the tale gathering inexorable pace and intensity in his hands as it progresses. Okay, I have nit-picked a couple of moments of miscalculation of the part of the conductor, but it is probably unrealistic to expect him to get everything right over such a long work; his is really a formidable achievement – which leads one to wonder just what would have happened had Culshaw not employed such Loge-like cunning by vetoing Decca’s planned stereo release of this recorded cycle in favour of one grandly produced by himself in the studio, thereby rendering the achievements of the Decca team in 1955, led by Peter Andry and his superb engineers of Kenneth Wilkinson and Roy Wallace, with Gordon Parry as their assistant, to be as useless as Fafner’s guarded treasure. Would the epic Solti Ring have ever then been forged, at least when and how we know it? Would Karajan’s subsequent Ring Cycle then have had make do with the remainder of the rapidly diminishing pile of Wagner singers in the late 1960’s? For me, the Solti cycle, more readily available at more advantageous price points than anything Testament can offer, is still the best place to start exploring this wonderful creation, as it was for me as a callow, teenage youth many years ago; it’s just that I now believe that the sum of the parts of this 1955 Testament Cycle is indisputably greater than the Decca ‘Recording of the Century’. So, ultimately I am left agreeing with the learned friend of Ralph Moore, quoted at the end of his survey of Wagner Ring Cycles, who sagely opines: “Solti/Decca for beginners, Keilberth/Testament for connoisseurs, with Krauss ̓53 as the pick of the bunch.”

Lee Denham

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Artists
Das Rheingold Hans Hotter (Wotan), Gustav Neidlinger (Alberich), Georgine von Milinkovič (Fricka), Rudolf Lustig (Loge), Paul Kuen (Mime), Ludwig Weber (Fasolt), Josef Greindl (Fafner), Josef Traxel (Froh), Hertha Wilfert (Freia), Jutta Vulpius (Woglinde), Elisabeth Schärtel (Wellgunde), Maria Graf (Flosshilde)
Die Walküre Astrid Varnay (Brünnhilde), Hans Hotter (Wotan), Gré Brouwenstijn (Sieglinde), Ramón Vinay (Siegmund), Josef Greindl (Hunding), Georgine von Milinkovič (Fricka/Grimgerde), Hilde Scheppan (Helmwige), Gerda Lammers (Ortlinde), Hertha Wilfert (Gerhilde), Elisabeth Scheppan (Waltraute), Jean Watson (Siegrune), Maria von Ilosvay (Schwertleite)
Siegfried Wolfgang Windgassen (Siegfried), Hans Hotter (Der Wanderer), Astrid Varnay (Brünnhilde), Maria von Ilosvay (Erda), Ilse Hollweg (Waldvogel)
Götterdämmerung Astrid Varnay (Brünnhilde), Wolfgang Windgassen (Siegfried), Josef Greindl (Hagen), Hermann Uhde (Gunther), Gré Brouwenstijn (Gutrune), Maria von Ilosvay (Waltraute/First Norn), Georgine von Milinkovič (Second Norn), Mina Bolotine (First Norn)