Bruno Walter - Bruno Walter conducts Mahler (7CD) (2012)

These recordings have been available continuously since their original respective releases on 78s and LPs, beginning more than 65 years ago, though I believe that this is the first time they have been collected domestically. The set includes two versions of the First Symphony, the first with the New York Philharmonic (1954), the second from the twilight of Walter’s career in Hollywood, with the studio ensemble dubbed “Columbia Symphony Orchestra,” released in 1961 in stereo. There is only one actual premiere recording (Symphony No. 5, from 1947), but those of the original First and the Fourth (1945, with Desi Halban) were among the first to find a wide audience, since Columbia Records was a major label with more clout than some of the smaller independents (like Vox, home of the early Otto Klemperer Mahler recordings).

The details: There are two distinct periods represented here, the first comprising the New York Philharmonic recordings in mono of Symphonies Nos. 1, 4, and 5, as well as the Lieder und Gesang with Desi Halban, Walter accompanying on piano. The recording (1958) of No. 2, with the New York Philharmonic and soloists Emilia Cundari and Maureen Forrester, is in stereo, as are the later First and Ninth symphonies with the Columbia Symphony, and Das Lied von der Erde with Mildred Miller and Ernst Haefliger and the New York Philharmonic; Mildred Miller also sings the Wayfarer Songs , this time with the Columbia Symphony.

Two myths are effectively debunked with this set. The conventional view is that Walter’s tempos slowed markedly as he aged; comparison of the two First Symphony recordings, however, finds only about a three-minute differential between them. It’s true that the stereo Ninth is quite a bit longer than Walter’s legendary 1938 recording, but I’ve always felt that the extra time taken with the studio recording greatly enhances the interpretation, while the earlier recording suffers from overly hasty tempos in the outer movements, and often scrappy playing from the orchestra.

The other piece of conventional wisdom characterizes Walter’s Mahler as “sentimental” while finding that of Otto Klemperer “granitic” or “steely,” and I admit that I’ve sometimes fallen prey to these overly simplistic characterizations. Listening to the respective conductors’ stereo recordings of the Second (Klemperer’s on EMI) calls into question that distinction. In the first movement, Walter is indeed more deliberate and precise, but there is just as much dramatic contrast between the “Todtenfeier” and lyrical themes; Klemperer is impetuous to such an extent that the orchestra (the estimable Philharmonia) has difficulty keeping up and maintaining ensemble. In the Scherzo, it is Klemperer who is the more heavy-handed, while Walter’s has more bite but also more sinuous beauty. The finales of both recordings are nearly the same in duration; the recorded sound of the Klemperer is still impressive 50 years later, while Sony’s live sound from Carnegie Hall has less impact and is more distant. The final moments of the new Sony, however, with the organ pedal anchoring the sound (especially in this new remastering), are the equal of the EMI, and I am hard-pressed to choose between these equally impressive performances.

This is a bare-bones set at super-budget price, with no annotation or texts. Nothing has been scrimped, however, on the engineering: the new 24-bit remastering has improved the sound of every recording, with little tape hiss or background noise, and they sound better than they have ever sounded, particularly in the case of the mono recordings.

It was one of those wonderful instances of confluence that brought Walter’s Mahler to my attention. Back in the late ’60s-early ’70s, the main classical labels in the U.S. had budget series that served as a source of both reissues and challenging or unusual music, especially helpful to students and those with limited resources: Angel (EMI) had Seraphim, RCA had its Victrola and Camden subsidiaries, and Columbia had the Odyssey series. It was from this last that I discovered not only Come Out by Steve Reich, but also the stereo reissues of Mahler’s First and Ninth Symphonies and Das Lied conducted by Bruno Walter. I only knew Gustav Mahler as a name when I bought that Odyssey LP with the (presumably Greek) statue and the subtitle “Titan” on the cover. But from those ethereal, otherworldly strings in the opening to the heaven-storming finale, Walter had me all the way. If these were some of your first memories of this music, too, you won’t need to be convinced that this set belongs in the Classical Hall of Fame. If they aren’t already a part of your aural museum, this is the perfect opportunity to discover them.