Karajan, conductor. Rheingold (1968): Fischer-Dieskau, Veasey, Stolze, Wohlfahrt, Kéléman, Mangelsdorf, Grobe, Kerns, Dominguez, Talvela, Ridderbusch, Donath, Moser, Reynolds. Walküre (1966): Vickers, Janowitz, Crespin, Stewart, Veasey, Talvela. Siegfried (1968): Thomas, Stewart, Dernesch, Stolze, Kéléman, Dominguez, Ridderbusch, Gayer. Götterdämmerung (1970): Dernesch, Brilloth, Ridderbusch, Kéléman, Stewart, Janowitz, Ludwig, Rebmann, Moser. Berlin Deutsche Oper Chorus and Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. DG 435 211-2.
Levine, conductor. Rheingold (1988): Morris, Ludwig, Jerusalem, Zednik, Wlaschiha, Gustafson, Baker, Lorenz, Svendén, Moll, Rootering. Walküre (1988): Gary Lakes, Norman, Behrens, Morris, Ludwig, Moll. Siegfried (1988): Reiner Goldberg, Morris, Behrens, Zednik, Wlaschiha, Svendén, Moll, Kathleen Battle. Götterdämmerung (1991): Behrens, Goldberg, Salminen, Wlaschiha, Weikl, Studer, Schwarz, Hong, Kesling, Parsons. Metropolitan Opera Chorus and Orchestra. DG 445 354-2.
The easiest way to start a fight among opera people is to ask the seemingly innocent question, Which is the best recording of the Ring? Everyone has really strong opinions on this one.
The fact is that all available recordings of the Ring are excellent, but you’ll want to listen to a few before you sink the couple of hundred dollars into this investment. The Solti Ring (the first full-length recording) was a historic achievement in recording history, and many people still prefer it to all others. It’s easy to see why. Solti understood that the listener would be lacking all the visual information of a live performance, and somehow got his singers to communicate great nuance of characterization solely through their voices. For example, Alberich’s laugh at the end of the first scene of Das Rheingold, as rendered by Gustav Neidlinger, is the vocal definition of “villainous.” The Solti Ring is what we used to call “vinyl theater.” Any recording that features Joan Sutherland as the Forest Bird is a classic by definition. On the downside, the orchestral passages range from excellent to serviceable. There are times when it seems that Solti is just pushing through to get to the next exciting vocal scene (the orchestral transitions in Act II of Walküre, for instance). This problem was made worse when the collection was first transferred to CD. Apparently, mistakes were made in the process, and much of the orchestral texture sounded even muddier than it needed to. Fortunately, the entire collection has been remastered and rereleased. If you opt for the Solti Ring (and it remains the “standard” choice), make sure you are getting the remastered edition.
Karajan’s complete Ring was released shortly after Solti’s. Vocally, it’s hit and miss. Régine Crespin, a notable Sieglinde of her day, sings Brünnhilde in Walküre (a mistake), and then is replaced by the excellent Helga Dernesch in the subsequent two operas. Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau sings Wotan like one who was born to rule the universe rather than an ambitious political leader. This pleased some listeners and annoyed others. As for the orchestra, let’s face facts right away: no one else has ever come close to Karajan and the Berliners, and probably never will. Sunlight shimmers in the Rhine, the Valkyries’ horses fly, and you can feel flames around you when Siegfried goes up the mountain. When Siegfried swallows Hagen’s potion, the orchestra does not fade away, it forgets. Karajan, whose career was dogged by accusations of Nazi collaboration (or worse), clearly knew something about power. The Rheingold finale is as majestic, colossal, and, yes, totalitarian as Wagner intended it to be.
If there were ever a case to be made for a live recording, Böhm’s recording of the Ring at Bayreuth is surely it. The Philips label has always had exceptionally high standards for recording quality, and nowhere are the legendary acoustics of the Bayreuth Festival House better represented than here. You’re in good hands with Böhm, one of the leading Wagnerian conductors of all time. If the cast looks suspiciously close to Solti’s, this was a conscious choice. Nilsson, Windgassen, and Neidlinger are more mature and, if possible, even more expressive here than in the studio recording. Perhaps it’s that quintessence of a live performance that just can’t be reproduced in the studio. Böhm knew that the best Bayreuth performances of the 1960s would be remembered by future generations as a vocal golden age, and we are lucky to have these performances preserved for us. If you find these recordings on sale, as they often are, snatch them up.
James Levine basically “owns” the score of the Ring at this point. It’s all there—subtlety, control, magnificence, color. In the places where Solti tolerated the score, Levine blossoms. (Compare their orchestral interludes in Act II of Walküre, for example.) Many people would shoot me for saying that (particularly British critics, who have steadily maintained a snotty attitude toward Levine), so be warned. By Götterdämmerung, the orchestra is incomparable.
Vocally, Reiner Goldberg is hardly the ideal Siegfried, but, really, who is? Hildegard Behrens has rabid fans and violent detractors, but this woman can communicate feelings like few other Brünnhildes. Her Immolation Scene in Götterdämmerung is a true catharsis, giving the whole cycle the air of Greek tragedy that Wagner intended from the start. James Morris has been spoiling audiences for so long now that his achievement is often underrated. The man has a limitless vocal palette from which he colors the various aspects of Wotan—wet dreams of power in Scene 2 of Rheingold, the ritualized voice of the Father God in the “Three Questions” scene with Mime in Act I of Siegfried, and good old operatic heartwrench in his Farewell in Act III of Walküre. You will even want to listen to his reading of the Walküre Act II monologue, and that’s no small accomplishment. Gary Lakes and Jessye Norman are more comfortable here than they were on stage. Christa Ludwig is Christa Ludwig. The smaller roles range from excellent (Kathleen Battle as the Forest Bird) to serviceable.
Many people mix and match their Rings, with this Rheingold and that Walküre, and so forth. This is perfectly acceptable for those who lack unlimited financial resources (not to mention shelf space). Just don’t admit this too freely at intermission.
Of course, you’d never dream of buying anything like an “Orchestral Highlights of the Ring” CD, so you wouldn’t need to know that Karajan’s is the most majestic, and Levine’s probably the most subtly recorded.
Parsifal
Solti, conductor. Kollo, Fischer-Dieskau, Frick, Ludwig, Kéléman. Vienna Boys’ Choir, Vienna State Opera Chorus, and Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra (1972). Decca 417 143-2DH4.
Karajan, conductor. Hofmann, Van Dam, Moll, Vejzovic, Nimsgern. Berlin Deutsche Oper Chorus, Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra (1980). DG 413 347-2GH4.
Barenboim, conductor. Jerusalem, Van Dam, Hölle, Meier, von Kannen. Berlin State Opera Chorus, Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra (1991). Teldec 9031-74448-2.
Levine, conductor. Jerusalem, Weikl, Moll, Waltraud Meier, Mazura. Metropolitan Opera Chorus and Orchestra (1992). DG 072 435-3GH2.
Levine, conductor. Domingo, Morris, Moll, Norman, Wlaschiha. Metropolitan Opera Chorus and Orchestra (1991). DG 437 501-2GH4.
Solti and the Viennese are, of course, superb, but the conductor seems to have opted for a remarkably secular reading of the score. The cast is excellent. Karajan, on the other hand, chose to make his recording as otherworldly as possible. His managing of the Act III Transformation and the entrance of the knights of the Grail plays like the soundtrack to the End of the Universe. Truly harrowing. Critics called the Karajan recording of Parsifal “spiritual,” and there’s really no other word for it. Tenor Peter Hofmann has good points and bad points vocally, but his involvement in the role is beyond question. Djuna Vejzovic is nobody’s favorite Kundry. The rest are brilliant.
Everybody complained that Levine’s conducting was too slow on his recordings, but people in a rush shouldn’t be listening to Parsifal anyway. Levine out-Karajans Karajan in savoring the silences and resonances that are so central to this score, and the recording quality is of the highest standard. Domingo’s Parsifal is nothing short of a spiritual achievement for many of us—this guy has the Holy Grail in his throat! Jessye Norman is right there with him the whole way in what is one of her finest
performances on CD, and the rest of the cast is absolutely top-notch.
Siegfried Jerusalem also blossomed in the role of Parsifal, and his intelligence and pathos are well captured on the Barenboim recording. The conductor opts for a characteristically smooth and seamless reading of the score. Waltraud Meier is an excellent Kundry, at her best when she’s shattering the crystal in Act II.
Wagner in Print
Now that you have a guidebook to the subject of Wagner, you will also need a guidebook to the other guidebooks. There is no limit to the scope of books available on this subject. There are, however, a few that are particularly helpful. This list is meant to help you through the groaning shelves at the bookstore or library. It is in no way meant to be complete.
BIOGRAPHIES
The Life of Richard Wagner, by Ernest Newman. 4 volumes. New York: Knopf, 1933–46.
Newman’s Life ranks not only as the Everest of the subject of Wagner, but as one of the great achievements in the art of biography itself. The research is awesome. Every letter, conversation, date, and receipt that he could lay his hands on was questioned and analyzed critically. We are particularly indebted to Newman for clarifying the confusing information previously collected. There is no analysis of the music, which Newman saved for his book The Wagner Operas.
Not that Newman’s Life is perfect. In fact, much of the scholarship done since the publication of these volumes has been in response to certain details in Newman, which only underscores the importance of his work. Much direct information has come to light since Newman worked, most notably Cosima’s Diaries, to which Newman had only partial access.
The first volume of the Life appeared in 1933, the last in 1946. The intervening years saw cataclysmic developments in Germany that demanded a response from anybody writing on a subject so central to German identity. This is evident in the progression of the book. For example, he says very little in the first and second volumes about Wagner’s budding anti-Semitism, and virtually nothing about the notorious pamphlet “Judaism in Music” except that several Jewish people were upset by it. By the fourth volume, all guns are blasting. True, Wagner’s character became more overtly unattractive as he grew older, a fact that would be reflected in any chronological biography of him, but it seems clear that Newman’s perception of the situation was affected by contemporary events. When quoting from Wagner’s pamphlet “What is German?,” where Wagner is dismissing the desire for war and domination as innately foreign to the German spirit, Newman drily comments, “This makes interesting reading in 1940.”
Such statements are typical of Newman’s urbane style and restrained irony throughout the Life. He can also be quite hilarious, in a potty British professor sort of way. Many of his pronouncements have become legendary in Wagner circles. They have a cumulative effect of revealing a biographer who can see his subject critically while remaining obviously and passionately dedicated to it.
Richard Wagner: His Life. His Work. His Century, by Martin Gregor-Dellin. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1980. 575 pp.
This biography, written in a readable, anecdotal style, includes long digressions on philosophical and historical tangents pertinent to the subject. True to its subtitle, it gives a good picture of the “world” of Wagner, and spends less time analyzing issues within Wagner’s operas than the effect those issues had on other people of the time. Gregor-Dellin loves his details; he has fun recording such matters as where Wagner stayed in his many travels, when (exactly) he arrived, and how much he spent on an almost daily basis. The author also edited Cosima’s diaries (see below) for publication, and is an inexhaustible archivist. His access to unpublished letters and other documents gives him some interesting stories to tell, and he gives a thorough and credible account of the Wagner-Nietzsche rift. According to Gregor-Dellin, Nietzsche was diagnosed as being a chronic masturbator, which was considered quite serious. Wagner, as usual, gave opinions about this to Nietzsche’s doctor and others, and Nietzsche never forgave him. Quite plausible.
Others have faulted Gregor-Dellin for whitewashing Wagner’s life. Indeed, the author forgives much. His glib glosses on Wagner’s anti-Semitism amount to an apologia, which was denounced as criminal by the succeeding generation of Germanists.
My Life (Mein Leben), by Richard Wagner. Translated by Andrew Gray, edited by Mary Whittall. New York: Da Capo, 1992. 811 pp.
Normally, it would be logical to begin learning about an artist’s career by reading his or her autobiography, but all the usual rules fly out the window with Wagner. It’s not that it’s dull, for all its length (hey, the guy could tell a story). This memoir was written in 1864 at the command of King Ludwig, who wanted to know everything about his idol. Wagner dictated it to Cosima. It is therefore cagey regarding matters that might have raised the eyebrows of Cosima or the king, which basically means sex and politics are unreliably recorded here. Also, by the 1860s Wagner had begun to believe some of his own fictions about his musical influences. Separating fact from fancy in this volume has become a specialized science of its own. This is a long read for the very unreliable information it contains. Put it toward the end of your reading list.
Richard Wagner’s Visit to Rossini and An Evening at Rossini’s in Beau-Séjour, by Edmond Michotte. Translated from the French and annotated, with an introduction and appendix, by Herbert Weinstock. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1982. 144 pp.
When Wagner was attempting to scare up enthusiasm for his work in Paris in the late 1850s, Rossini, the retired, well-loved composer, was reputed to have made disparaging comments about him. Rossini denied this vehemently in public letters, and Wagner called on the venerable old man to thank him, if not for his support, then at least for his nonopposition. This charming book purports to be a record of their conversation at that visit, covering such topics as Beethoven, Weber, “the music of the future,” and the nature of opera. Whether the conversation ever took place and whether this is a faithful record of it remain highly debatable (this is discussed in the good introduction). However, the conversation is very believable and certainly makes for a good read.
WAGNER STUDIES
The Wagner Operas, by Ernest Newman. New York: Knopf, 1984. 724 pp.
This is the definitive book on the works themselves, an exhaustively thorough account of their origins and sources and a note-by-note analysis that has not been surpassed since it was first published in 1949. Father Owen Lee blithely says that “every good Wagnerian knows it by heart,” and he’s only slightly exaggerating. That’s the good news. The bad news is that its age is showing. Things were a bit different in Newman’s day. First of all, he could assume that any reader of his book would have the ability and the inclination to sit at the piano and play through the over 550 musical examples that form the basis of his analyses. Nor are those musical examples simple enough for anyone who remembers “do, re, mi” to whistle through; they are full measures from the piano-vocal scores. Newman spends about half of his space brilliantly systematizing the various leitmotivs in each of the operas, and the other half warning against too systematic an approach to Wagner’s leitmotivs. Second, the libretto translations he employs (all his own except Lohengrin) are archaic and either unreadable or hilarious (“No more far’st thou forth warriors to seek …”). Such texts are not without value, and often echo Wagner’s original sounds and archaisms, but they don’t make for easy going. This book remains indispensable to the Wagner fan, the undisputed “desert island book.” Just make sure you are a Wagner fan before leaping into it.
Bayreuth: A History of the Wagner Festival, by Frederic Spotts. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994. 334 pp.
Run, do not walk, to buy this invaluable book. Spotts’s book is true to its title, telling the history of the festival from Wagner’s first fantasies to the present day. In the course of this tale, the author succeeds in explaining the history of the whole Wagnerian phenomenon. His remarkable accomplishment lies in presenting the story, warts and all, without any special agenda bey
ond an obvious love for the subject. Spotts is able to analyze the role of the Third Reich in Bayreuth, and vice versa, responsibly, informatively, and with remarkable aplomb. With Cosima, Siegfried and Winifred Wagner, Wieland, and today’s leader Wolfgang, the author gives credit where it’s due and critiques where appropriate. A thrilling read.
In Search of Wagner, by Theodor Adorno. Translated by Rodney Livingstone. New York: Schocken Books, 1981. 159 pp.
Adorno was one of the guiding lights of the Frankfurt School of philosophers, and a person for whom Wagner had special significance. This Jewish writer fled the Third Reich and taught at the New School in New York. The book is a compendium of essays based on lectures given there and in Germany. Adorno is credited with a philosophical style that does not jump to conclusions. He will point out the uniqueness of a single turn of poetic or musical phrase in Wagner, and analyze it for what it is, refusing to create whacked-out theories from such details. This is probably Adorno’s greatest gift to the realm of Wagner scholarship—especially after the Nazi years. As for what he does say, I leave that to the philosophy students to unpack, but I can inform you that he says it, whatever it is, very well.
The Perfect Wagnerite, by George Bernard Shaw. New York: Dover, 1966 (reprint of the 1923 edition). 136 pp.
Shaw’s brilliant, important, and vastly amusing analysis of the Ring is a pleasure to read. He deconstructs the tetralogy as an allegory of class struggle, using Marx’s theories when they are convenient but dispensing with them just as fast when they get in the way. The Perfect Wagnerite is loaded with quotable gems in the best Shavian manner, perfect for cocktail party chatter—even, or perhaps especially, when they are downright wrong. Read this!
Wagner Without Fear Page 42