Monday, September 28, 2020

Ohmygosh, it's turned into Garrulous Old Moneygrubbers' Week here at Sunday Classics --
or has it?

NOTE: If the audio clips don't all load, try refreshing the post -- more than once if necessary. They're all ready and waiting.

His chance encounter-at-sea with the mysterious -- and rich as all get-out -- Dutchman (Darren Jeffery) gives Daland (Steven Gallop) ideas about his marriageable daughter's future, in Melbourne's 2019 Flying Dutchman.


CAUTIONARY NOTE ABOUT THIS SET OF AUDIO CLIPS: They're all, er, special, in a particular way, and are here for a reason. (Okay, okay: We might call these "Garrulous Old Moneygrubbers' versions.") If your ears and brain are screaming, "Yuck, I can't stand it!," farther down we've got a heap of clips, of both selections, that are special in a way different way. -- Ed.

BEETHOVEN: Fidelio: Act I, Rocco, "Hat man nicht auch Gold beineben" ("If you don't have money too")
[FOR ENGLISH TEXT, SCROLL DOWN IN POST]


Kurt Böhme (bs), Rocco; Vienna Philharmonic, Lorin Maazel, cond. Decca, recorded March 1964

Herbert Alsen (bs), Rocco; Vienna Philharmonic, Wilhelm Furtwängler, cond. Live performance from the Salzburg Festival, Aug. 3, 1948

WAGNER: The Flying Dutchman: Act II, Daland, "Mein Kind, du siehst mich" ("My child, you see me") . . . "Mögst du, mein Kind" ("Might you, my child")
[FOR ENGLISH TEXT, SCROLL DOWN IN POST]


["Mögst du, mein Kind" at 1:43] Josef Greindl (bs), Daland; Annelies Kupper (s), Senta; RIAS Symphony Orchestra (Berlin), Ferenc Fricsay, cond. DG, recorded 1952

["Mögst du, mein Kind" at 1:45] Josef Greindl (bs), Daland; Anja Silja (s), Senta; Bayreuth Festival Orchestra, Wolfgang Sawallisch, cond. Philips, recorded live, August 1961

by Ken

We've got so many balls hanging precariously in the air that I was really hoping we snatch and ground one or two this week. Instead we're tossing up another.

The obvious follow-up to the "post-taste" I offered earlier today (or maybe it was yesterday -- you know, one of those days in there), which included performances of Beethoven's Creatures of Prometheus Overture, would have been something I've had in mind for several weeks, for some point in the future: a look into the mystery of the master's overture-making skills, as reflected in the four specimens he created over that nine-year period for Fidelio, which include two gems and -- yes, I'm going to use the word -- two duds.

First page of the Fidelio Overture
The mystery becomes a little less mysterious when we factor in that, as I pointed out in the post-taste, while by 1805 the 35-year-old Beethoven had already have produced a large body of music of a high level of mastery in a wide variety of genres, as an overture-writer he was still a novice, whereas by 2014, when he sealed the deal with the fourth and final overture for the opera, the one we know as the Fidelio Overture, he was one of music's all-time master overturists. What may be most amazing is that in his second attempt at an operatic overture, as early as 1806, he gave us what may not be a useful operatic curtain-raiser but nevertheless is one of the great masterpieces of music. And then he produced a real dud. Maybe it just goes to show that by and large "easy" wasn't in Beethoven's working vocabulary.

Again, though, this was a subject for the future -- no way it was going to be doable on the spot, even if I curtailed the plan I'd roughed out, which would have included hearing all of the canonical Beethoven overtures.

Similarly, I didn't see any way of jumping from where we are to the lesson of Fidelio.


WHAT WE'RE DOING, THOUGH, ISN'T UNRELATED

Because this quick dual-character sketch of two single fathers, as it relates to Fidelio's Rocco, bears rather seriously on whether we look at him, and at least in part the opera itself, as a cartoon or a serious portrayal of conflicted human urgencies. And it so happens that I've had it in mind for ages to pair Rocco up with his lineal descendant, in Wagner's Flying Dutchman: Senta's father, the sea captain Daland. And it happens that in a week of piled-on stresses you don't want to know about, this struck me as something we could actually do, even when I realized that as good a head start as I had in preparing audio clips for what was imagined as another some-time-in-the-future post, it was really only the Flying Dutchman clips ready that were ready, or at any rate one set of them.

The more I thought about it, the more it seemed to me that there was another, earlier chunk of the opera we should also be contemplating, and yet another, earlier-still chunk, the opening scene. For Rocco too I began to think we should be looking at another chunk of his opera. Nevertheless, the basic set of clips, though not yet begun, could probably be speed-harvested.

(Ha-ha! As it turned out, and I discovered just before I started remaking them, the clips for Rocco's aria were nearly all made after all! They must just be sitting in some other place but could be easily enough reconstructed. I've got fragments of so many posts tucked away in so many different places -- blog files, TextEdit files, and scraps of paper -- that I often can't keep track of all of them.)


WE'VE STARTED BY PUTTING THE WORST FOOT FORWARD

This is tricky. While it's true that we often do things backwards here at Sunday Classics, it seems risky to start out with specimens of the problem, namely performances that by dint of casting tend to tip Rocco and Daland into the caricature category. I don't mean to disrespect the singers we've heard, but they're all of a type often encountered in German bass roles: lots of sound being produced, but sound with little or no vibrato, an assaultively dry sound that jangles my nervous system.

Josef Greindl as Daland -- ay-yay-yay!
I was reminded recently that this kind of singing isn't necessarily a performance disqualifier even for me, when I finally got around to looking at a DVD I'd picked up ages ago, a TDK issue of a grainy black-and-white telecast from 1963 (though it looks older) of a concert performance of Act I of Die Walküre with Hans Knappertsbusch conducting the Vienna Philharmonic, with Claire Watson as Sieglinde, Fritz Uhl as Siegmund, and Josef Greindl as Rocco (you can find it on YouTube) -- not exactly a lineup designed to thrill lovers of fine singing, but an effective enough cast (Watson manages Sieglinde surprisingly successfully), and Greindl in particular is striking. The voice doesn't sound any better than one would expect, but he's so clear and strong in his deployment of words combined with music, and combined in turn with his physical presence, that even in formal concert dress he gives us a Hunding of enormous power and scarily implacable resolve. I understand better why serious conductors -- Furtwängler, say, or Knappertsbusch -- were happy to have him in their casts.

About that picture of Greindl as Daland: Whoever costumed him meant him to look like a clown, right? Oh jeez! I invite you to try this experiment. Scroll down in this post to the "Kein Zweifel!" excerpt from Act I of Dutchman, and listen to the performance from the 1952 Fricsay-DG recording with Greindl as Daland. It's the least beautifully sung of the four performances we hear there, and I would probably rank it as my fourth-favorite among the four. But tell me if you can that you don't hear the anger and defiance as well as terror and sheer relief of a man who knows that he has just, by the narrowest of margins, escaped death -- and not just his own, but that of the crew for which he's responsible. Now, is there any cell in your brain that accepts that it might be in any way acceptable to presume to make fun of this man?

All that said, especially on records where we have only sound to work with, this isn't a sound I want to hear for either Rocco or Daland. And I hope you'll hear what I mean when we hear some counter-examples in both roles.


FIRST UP, ROCCO'S "GOLD ARIA" FROM ACT I OF FIDELIO

Both Rocco and Daland are single fathers of daughters of an age when the blooming young women's futures need to be arranged -- whether they're in a Norwegian fishing village or an off-the-beaten-path Spanish prison. And both fathers are "old school" enough to appreciate that their own peace of mind depends on their beloved daughters being well enough married off, meaning to a husband who's going to be able to support them properly. For some reason it seems to be automatically assumed that this makes both men money-grubbing figures of fun. There's no indication that either father intends for his daughter to be coupled with a man who can't make her happy. It's just that both have a strong sense that poverty doesn't contribute significantly to happiness, a bit of wisdom that Rocco is trying to impart here to his darling Marzelline.

BEETHOVEN: Fidelio: Act I, Aria, Rocco, "Hat man nicht auch Gold beineben" ("If you don't have money too")
If you don't have money too,
you can't be really happy.
life drags sadly by,
many an anxiety sets in.

But when it clinks and rolls in your pockets,
fate is then you captive,
and money will bring you power and love
and satisfy your boldest dreams.

Luck, like a servant, works for wages;
it's a lovely thing, is money;
it's a precious thing, is money.

If you add nothing to nothing
the total is and stays small;
If you find only love at meal times,
you'll be hungry afterwards.

Then let fortune smile kindly upon you,
and bless and guide your efforts;
your sweetheart in your arms, money in your purse,
so may you live many years.

Luck, like a servant, works for wages;
it's a mighty thing, is money.
-- translation by William Mann

Karl Ridderbusch (bs), Rocco; Berlin Philharmonic, Herbert von Karajan, cond. EMI, recorded 1970

Franz Crass (bs), Rocco; Staatskapelle Dresden, Karl Böhm, cond. DG, recorded c1968

Kurt Moll (bs), Rocco; Staatskapelle Dresden, Bernard Haitink, cond. Philips, recorded November 1989

Gottlob Frick (bs), Rocco; Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, Otto Klemperer, cond. Testament, recorded live, Feb. 24, 1961

René Pape (bs), Rocco; Staatskapelle Berlin, Daniel Barenboim, cond. Teldec, recorded May-June 1999

Alexander Kipnis (bs), Rocco; Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, Bruno Walter, cond. Live performance, Feb. 22, 1941

Ludwig Weber (bs), Rocco; RAI Rome Symphony Orchestra, Rome, Eugen Jochum, cond. Broadcast performance, Dec. 22, 1957

It will come as no surprise to Sunday Classics readers that, with German bass repertory on the table, the Mssrs Ridderbusch, Moll, Crass, and Frick make prompt appearances. For me it doesn't get better than Ridderbusch in his prime (up to about 1975, say), his rich, ripe, gorgeous bass moving swiftly and authoritatively from bottom to top. It so happens that with Rocco and Daland we're hearing him in perhaps his two most wonderful recorded operatic roles, meaning that they're pretty wonderful indeed. No apologies are called for from Crass, or from Moll, even though he was 51 at this time -- but still sounding very much like himself. (But oh, to have had him, say, 10 years earlier!

Gottlob Frick: everybody's Rocco
Now we have singers we might think of as the generations preceding and following the above. Gottlob Frick is heard as Rocco in recordings or broadcast performances with just about everybody who conducted Fidelio during his working years, and the role was always a good match for him. René Pape sings pretty well but maybe not as well as I would have expected, especially heard alongside the present company -- it could be another symptom of Things That Went Wrong in the Barenboim-Teldec Fidelio. Some things went right too, but on the whole the peformance seems to keep finding ways of undercutting itself.

A few years earlier would have been lovely for Alexander Kipnis, who at 50 doesn't have the vocal refulgence so abundant in his recordings of the 1930s. Still, what a fine, dark, wide-ranging, weighty sound. Ludwig Weber for me is a puzzling singer: at his best (say, his Decca recordings of Gurnemanz in Parsifal and Baron Ochs in Rosenkavalier) as rich and rewarding a bass as there's been; you just don't know when he's going to be at his best, whether in the 1930s or 1950s. On thid day in Rome in December 1957 we're hearing pretty much "the good Ludwig," I think.


NOW LET'S HEAR DALAND'S ARIA FROM DUTCHMAN

As Act I of The Flying Dutchman began, we saw Daland captaining his fishing vessel through a sudden storm that arose when he was within sight of his home port -- and his home, returning to his daughter Senta. Eventually, after an encounter with a ghost ship captained by a mysterious Dutchman, Daland was able to use a suddenly risen favorable wind [a south wind: "Südwind! Südwind!" is the joyous cry we hear) to head back to home. In Act II (the opera's three acts were originally intended by Wagner to be performed continuously) we've seen Senta at home going through assorted home-bound activites, until now her father makes a sudden unexpected return, accompanied by a houseguest.

Daland already has it in mind, since his unexpected encounter with the mysterious Dutch sea captain, who is clearly awash in riches and has already inquired of Daland whether he by chance has a daughter, that there's a match to be made here. The bond between father and daughter is clearly strong, and Daland clearly intends to see whether a match can be made with the honored houseguest.

WAGNER: The Flying Dutchman: Act II, Daland, "Mein Kind, du siehst mich" ("My child, you see me") . . . "Mögst du, mein Kind" ("Might you, my child")
A spacious room in DALAND's house. On the side walls, pictures of sea subjects, maps, etc. On the rear wall, the picture of a pale man with a dark beard and in black clothes.

SENTA, who earlier in Act II shared with the village girls the legend of the Flying Dutchman, her private obsession, is now alone and has been staring at the portrait of the legendary character on the wall. The door opens. DALAND and the DUTCHMAN enter. SENTA's gaze sweeps from the portrait to the DUTCHMAN, and remains as if spellbound, without taking her eyes off him.

The
DUTCHMAN slowly comes forward.

DALAND [having remained standing at the threshold, comes forward]: My child, you see me at the door . . .
What? No embrace? No kiss?
You stand rooted to the spot --
Senta, do I deserve such a greeting?
SENTA [as DALAND comes up to her, grasps his hand]:
God give you greeting! [Drawing him closer to her]
Father, say, who is this stranger?
DALAND: Do you press me?
Might you, my child, bid this stranger welcome?
He is a seaman like me, and asks our hospitality.
Long homeless, always on far distant voyages,
in foreign lands he has gained great wealth.
Banished from his native land,
for a home he will pay handsomely:
Speak, Senta, would it displease you
if this stranger stayed with us?
[SENTA nods her approval.
DALAND turns to the DUTCHMAN.]
Say, did I praise her too much?
You can see for yourself -- does she please you?
Should I let my praises still overflow?
Confess, she is an ornament to her sex.
[The DUTCHMAN makes a gesture of assent.]
Should you, my child, show yourself well disposed to this man,
he also asks for the gracious gift of your heart;
give him your hand, for bridegroom you will call him.
If you are true to your father, tomorrow he'll be your husband.
[SENTA makes a convulsive movement of pain. DALAND produces some jewelry and shows it to his daughter.]
Look at this ring, look at these bracelets!
Of what he owns, these are but a trifle.
Dear child, do you not long to have them?
All this is yours if you exchange rings.
[SENTA, disregarding him, does not take her eyes off the DUTCHMAN, who likewise, without listening to DALAND, is absorbed in contemplating her. DALAND becomes aware of this; he looks at them both.]
But no one speaks . . . Am I not wanted here?
I see! I'd better leave them alone.
[to SENTA] May you win this noble husband.
Believe me, such luck will not occur again.
[to the DUTCHMAN] Stay here alone! I'll leave you.
Believe me, she is as true as she is fair.
[He goes out slowly, watching the two with pleased surprise.]
-- translation (mostly) by Lionel Salter

["Mögst du, mein Kind" at 1:52] Karl Ridderbusch (bs), Daland; Gwyneth Jones (s), Senta; Bayreuth Festival Orchestra, Karl Böhm, cond. DG, recorded live, July-Aug. 1971

["Mögst du, mein Kind" at 1:52] Karl Ridderbusch (bs), Daland; Ingrid Bjoner (s), Senta; RAI Rome Symphony Orchestra, Wolfgang Sawallisch, cond. Broadcast performance, Feb. 15, 1969

["Mögst du, mein Kind" at 1:51] Kurt Moll (bs), Daland; Dunja Vejzović (s), Senta; Berlin Philharmonic, Herbert von Karajan, cond. EMI, recorded 1981-83

["Mögst du, mein Kind" at 1:44] Gottlob Frick (bs), Daland; Marianne Schech (s), Senta; Staatskapelle Berlin, Franz Konwitschny, cond. EMI-Eterna, recorded February 1960

["Mögst du, mein Kind" at 1:36] Gottlob Frick (bs), Daland; Christel Goltz (s), Senta; Vienna State Opera Orchestra, Rudolf Moralt, cond. Live performance, Mar. 28, 1953

["Mögst du, mein Kind" at 1:58] Giorgio Tozzi (bs), Daland; Leonie Rysanek (s), Senta; Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, Thomas Schippers, cond. Live performance, Mar. 5, 1960

["Mögst du, mein Kind" at 1:40] Ludwig Weber (bs), Daland; Kirsten Flagstad (s), Senta; London Philharmonic Orchestra, Fritz Reiner, cond. Live performance from Covent Garden, June 7-11, 1937

I just plain love "Mögst du, mein Kind," and its broad, enveloping humanity would seem to render ridiculous the notion that Daland is some cartoon vision of a comically mindless moneygrubber. If evidence is needed, this bunch of performances should provide it. I've already tipped my hand about Ridderbusch's Daland in extolling his Rocco with Karajan. The Daland with Böhm is pretty much everything I could hope for. Given how good he is, you'd think he wipes up the competition? No, because for starters Moll and Frick are at their best here. (I thought I'd throw in extra live performances from Ridderbusch and Frick, which don't add that much to our picture except perhaps for the wonderfully supple yet decisive conducting of Sawallisch in the 1969 Rome Radio performance. He makes the most of having an Italian orchestra at his disposal.)

In the 1960 Met broadcast, with three of the principals -- George London, Leonie Rysanek, and Giorgio Tozzi -- who would participate in RCA's Dutchman recording that August in London [UPDATE: actually, this should have been "four of the principals," since the hunter Erik, Senta's nonseafaring, hopelessly out-of-the-running suitor, kind of has to be counted as a "principal" and Karl Liebl sang the role (quite well) in both the March broadcast and the August recording -- Ed.], Tozzi is a warm and gracious Daland, maybe more so even than in the recording. (Though this is the only one he recorded, with the exception to be noted in a moment, Tozzi had more Wagner roles in his repertory than many people realize, culminating, of course, in his assumption of Hans Sachs, which can be seen as well as heard in the Meistersinger in the Hamburg State Opera's series of lip-synched opera films.) Finally, we have the "good" Ludwig Weber again, 20 years earlier than the Rome Rocco we heard earlier.


THINK DALAND IS A MONEYGRUBBING BUFFOON? LISTEN
TO THIS SNATCH OF THE OPENING SCENE OF DUTCHMAN

At some point we should probably do what I was contemplating for now: a close look at the opening scene and the Act I meeting of Daland and the Dutchman. I'm going to content myself with dragging out of the Sunday Classics archive (yes, as I mentioned earlier, we've heard this before, way back when) this brief excerpt from the opening scene, as the sudden violent storm that was in progress as the curtain rose eases somewhat after dragging Daland's little fishing vessel, once within sight of home port, wildly off course.

We need to hear at least this much to get any sense of the imminent-life-or-death precariousness of Daland's seafaring way of life, keeping him away from home for long periods of time while also subjecting him to the constant dangers of the sea and the elements. If we're paying attention to the information Wagner so abundantly gives us, I don't think we have to imagine the degree of concern Daland lives with for the well-being of his daughter, who has already lost a mother and could at any time find herself without a father as well. Senta's well-being.

Clearly nothing matters more to Daland than knowing that Senta will remain safe, secure, and happy, and I don't find it in any way unreasonable that in his mind her future happiness will depend to a large degree on her safety and security. What he doesn't know is that she has quite different ideas about her future happiness, and there isn't anyone or anything that's going to deter her from her determination. Different observers will have different views on the soundness of her determination. Wagner himself probably had a view, with which I would respectfully but forcefully disagree.

WAGNER: The Flying Dutchman: From the opening scene, Daland, "Kein Zweifel! Sieben Meilen fort" ("No doubt! Seven miles away")
A steep rocky shore. The sea occupies the greater part of the stage a wide view over it. DALAND's ship remains anchored near the shore after the violent storm that came up suddenly. The sailors are noisily occupied in furling the sails, casting ropes, etc. DALAND has gone ashore and has climbed a cliff to look landwards to get his bearings.

DALAND [coming down from the cliff]:
No doubt of it! Seven miles the storm
has driven us from safe heaven.
So near our goal after this long voyage
this trick was saved up for me!
STEERSMAN [on board, shouting through his cupped hands]:
Ho! Captain!
DALAND: How goes it on board with you?
STEERSMAN [as before]: All's well, Captain. We have firm moorings.
DALAND: This is Sandwike! I know the bay well.
Damnation! I saw my house on the shore,
and thought to embrace Senta, my child!
Then came this blast from the depths of hell . . . to rely on the wind is to rely on Satan's mercy!
[Going on board] Ah well! Patience, the storm abates;
so fierce a storm could not last.
[On board] Hey, my lads! You've kept watch a long time:
now get some rest! There's no more to fear!
[The sailors go below.]
Now, steersman, will you take the helm for me?
[DALAND goes into his cabin. The steersman is alone on the deck. The storm has somewhat abated and returns only at sporadic intervals; the waves are still rough on the open sea. The STEERSMAN goes his round once more, then seats himself near the rudder.]
-- translation by Lionel Salter

Karl Ridderbusch (bs), Daland; Harald Ek (t), Steersman; Bayreuth Festival Orchestra, Karl Böhm, cond. DG, recorded live, July-Aug. 1971

Matti Salminen (bs), Daland; Graham Clark (t), Steersman; Bayreuth Festival Orchestra, Woldemar Nelsson, cond. Philips, recorded live, August 1985

Gottlob Frick (bs), Daland; Fritz Wunderlich (t), Steersman; Staatskapelle Berlin, Franz Konwitschny, cond. EMI-Eterna, recorded 1959

Josef Greindl (bs), Daland; Ernst Häfliger (t), Steersman; RIAS Symphony Orchestra (Berlin), Ferenc Fricsay, cond. DG, recorded 1952

I can't tell you how much I hate stopping at this point, when we are literally about to hear the Steersman sing the song with which he means to keep himself awake during his deputized watch. (Spoiler alert: He instead puts himself to sleep.) Especially when we've got such a good group of steersmen, headed of course by Fritz Wunderlich, who indeed sang the Steersman in the 1959 EMI-Eterna coproduction. (By the way, we've got a bunch of clips of the Steersman's song in the archive if anyone wants to hear them.) For that matter, the clip picks up too late; I wanna hear the whole damned scene!

I have to commend myself for having picked these four performances originally, because they're all awfully good, though none is better than the Ridderbusch-Ek-Böhm one. I've never heard anyone else make as much as KR does with the upward sweep on the repeated "Wer baut auf Wind baut auf Satans Erbarmen," from the low A-natural up first to middle C and then on up to E-flat. Frick and company are just fine too, and with Matti Salminen as another really good Daland, and Graham Clark a sturdy Steersman, Philips's 1985 Bayreuth Dutchman -- a recording I like a whole lot -- is off to a rousing start. I like the Fricsay-DG Dutchman a lot too, and I can just about work with Greindl here, as long as I'm imagining the Greindl who's such a fierce presence in that 1963 Knappertsbusch concert performance of Act I of Die Walküre, and not that silly-looking galoot in the picture we saw of him as Daland. Sheesh!


STILL TO COME -- MONDAY EVENING VERSION

Well, nothing, really, unless you count the resolve to return at some future date to Act I of Dutchman to look at the great scene between Daland and the Dutchman.

BONUS TO COME? I think, however, that there likely is a bonus to come, because I just can't help myself, and all it will involve is dipping back into the SC audio archive and banging out another bit of English text. Watch for it!

YES TO THE BONUS: It's happening, in fact a double bonus, with the first part, the easy part, already posted, though it's turned out to be not quite as easy as I thought.
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