Carl Schuricht conducts Mozart & Brahms Carl Schuricht performs Brahms and Mozart in Lucerne: compelling persuasiveness through inspired objectivity

Grand music-making defines these two concerts led by veteran Carl Schuricht.

As readers of this magazine most likely already know from my previous reviews of two major collections of his recordings by SWR, I am an admirer of the art of Carl Schuricht (1889–1967), and so I requested this CD for review with anticipation. At the same time, from past experience I was aware of two things: Mozart was not always his strongest suit, and his Brahms interpretations were highly variable and unpredictable.

“Unpredictable” turned out to be a good descriptor for both performances, preserved in clear mono sound that is tilted somewhat toward the treble frequencies. The Mozart looks forward with almost uncanny prescience to certain aspects of recent HIP practices. While the booklet provides no information on this count, my ears tell me that the Swiss Festival Orchestra was (at least for this performance) a body of reduced size from a full-scale modern symphony orchestra. Textures are transparent and light as a soap bubble; articulation is crisp and pointed; tempos are sprightly though not rushed. Casadesus is at one with Schuricht; he uses virtually no pedal, and his fleet-fingered touch brings his modern instrument as close to the realm of the pianoforte as is possible to do. This is Mozart of great elegance, but (unlike Schuricht’s live concerto performances with Clara Haskil) chary of the weight and shadows of emotional depth. I tremendously admire the execution, without being entirely won over by the interpretation.

I was previously prepared for Schuricht’s potential idiosyncrasy in Brahms by a 1953 performance of the First Symphony with the Orchestre de la Suisse Romande (Archiphon, nla), which has the most eccentric rendition of the finale of that work I think I am ever likely to hear. For the Second Symphony, my previous exposure was his 1966 performance with his longtime base ensemble, the Stuttgart Radio Symphony, and his 1953 studio recording with the Vienna Philharmonic for Decca. The Stuttgart performance is one of great autumnal ripeness, with very relaxed tempos throughout. This 1962 outing with the Vienna Philharmonic, by contrast, is far more impulsive, belying the work’s reputation as Brahms’s “Pastoral.” Every movement is up to a minute faster; but even more striking is the sense of underlying tension and unsettled waywardness. (Although its studio predecessor is slightly faster yet, it is characterized instead by far greater equipoise and serenity.) String passages have a febrile edginess; brass chords are far more prominent and given an almost snarling edge. Portions of the first movement development section bristle with nervousness; the normally wistful second movement suddenly turns stormy and even menacing at the 4:00 mark; the scherzo is more jumpy than bucolic; the finale is almost defiantly punched out at points. The audience bursts into enthusiastic applause at the close; I am far less sure what to make of it all. I admire the responsiveness and razor-sharp execution of the Vienna Philharmonic, but this simply is not how I customarily hear this work.

The two easiest types of reviews for a critic to write are those for performances that are either truly great or truly awful. Much harder to compose are those for performances that are either solid but not outstanding, or are very good but still seem to have something essential missing. By far the hardest kind of review to write, though, is one for performances where the interpreters provide top-notch executions that are at odds with the critic’s preconceptions or preferences, in ways that he or she cannot readily resolve. That is the situation here. I remain intrigued but unsettled by what I hear—interpretations far too thoughtful and well played to set aside, but ones that lie outside of my usual ambit. I have sought to give objective accounts of these two performances, so that readers can make their own judgments. With a cautionary yellow flag, strongly recommended to those who believe they might find these approaches appealing.

Emanating from performances at two Lucerne Festivals on 8/19/1961 (the Mozart Concerto with Casadesus) and 9/8/1962 (the Brahms Symphony with the Vienna Philharmonic), these recordings have been released in commemoration of the 50th anniversary of the death of Carl Schuricht, who died in 1967. If Audite’s documentation and Bernard Jacobson’s headnote to a 24:5 review of another Casadesus/Schuricht performance of the same Mozart concerto are both right, then it appears that pianist and conductor bar-hopped from Lucerne to Salzburg, where just four days later, on 8/23/1961, they performed the same concerto at the Salzburg Festival with the Vienna Philharmonic. One wonders if they showed up at the Strasbourg Festival next, like fraternity bros going from one keg party to another.

Fifteen months after Casadesus made this appearance in Lucerne—and presumably the one in Salzburg, both with Schuricht—the pianist sat down in Cleveland’s Severance Hall in November 1962 to record Mozart’s final concerto with the Columbia Symphony Orchestra under the baton of George Szell; and as the reader is sure to know, that collaboration was not a one-off. Indeed, between 1959 and 1962, Casadesus teamed up with Szell to record all but a handful of Mozart’s piano concertos beginning with No. 12. Conspicuously missing from the later concertos are the Nos. 19 and 25. Some of concertos were recorded with members of the Cleveland Orchestra and others with the Columbia Symphony Orchestra; and back in the heyday of LP, I collected all of them. Casadesus and Szell, in fact, were my introduction to Mozart’s piano concertos, and I still have a fondness for those recordings.

The timings between this Casadesus/Schuricht and the Casadesus/Szell performances are remarkably close: 13:14, 8:07, 8:07 vs. 13:22, 8:49, 8:05. Only in the second movement do Casadesus and Szell adopt a more leisurely tempo. But aside from the timing similarities, I find that I actually prefer this Casadesus/Schuricht reading. Where Szell feels earthbound with a strict adherence to the beat, Schuricht seems to take wing with more flexible phrasing that lends a freer, more lyrical character to the music. The violins, in particular, sound like they’re floating, and this, in turn, prompts playing of pearl-like beauty from Casadesus. There’s a gentle joy in the third movement that I don’t hear in the not faster but harder-driven Szell version. Given the vintage and venue of the recording, the sound is excellent.

I’m not as happy with the Brahms Symphony. The main problem lies with the recording, which, though it comes from the same venue a year later, sounds bottom-heavy and murky. I’m guessing that the larger contingent of players in the Vienna Philharmonic, compared to the chamber-sized Swiss ensemble for the Mozart, posed challenges that the microphones and recording equipment weren’t entirely able to resolve.

Setting that aside, Schuricht’s performance of Brahms’s Second Symphony is quite interesting, which is not necessarily to say that I find it to my liking. For one thing, it stands in rather stark contrast to some recent versions in the matter of tempo. As I and others have noted, tempos in Brahms’s works, with exceptions, of course, have tended towards a gradual slowing over the past 40 or 50 years. Schuricht confirms that perception with a reading of the score that’s nothing if not bracing. But it’s not the conductor’s pacing per se that gives me pause. Rather, it’s his somewhat aggressive approach, which treats more rhythmically vigorous and dramatically heightened passages with explosive accents and notes cut short of their full metric values. In the past, I may have complained that some conductors are too keen on smoothing out the edges, especially in this score, which has often been called Brahms’s “Pastoral” Symphony. But Schuricht seems to err in the opposite direction and in so doing alters the complexion of the piece and its lyrical impulses.

A Carl Schuricht discography at carlschuricht.com/SchurichtCD.htm, so up to date that it includes the current release, lists a number of recordings of Brahms’s Second Symphony by the conductor with the Vienna Philharmonic on Decca (1953), the ORTF on Altus (1963), the Stuttgart RSO on Hänssler (1966), and a number of others. I reviewed the Stuttgart/Hänssler CD in 29:1, and said of it then that the performance, only a year before the conductor’s death, “does not dawdle.” “If anything,” I continued, “I would have preferred a slightly slower pace for the Adagio, which could have benefited from a bit more expansive phrasing and shaping.

If that performance was a bit too fast for my taste, consider this earlier one with the Vienna Philharmonic vs. the later one with the Stuttgart Radio:

VPO (1962): 15:15, 9:06, 5:07, 9:26 = 38:54
RSO (1966): 16:20, 9:22, 5:35, 10:12 = 41:29

Schuricht actually did slow down considerably in his last days, but even then I noted that the RSO reading felt a bit pressed and impatient to me. If you prefer your Brahms Second not to trot along too slowly, but you don’t want it to gallop either, I’d recommend Schuricht’s final RSO recording on Hänssler over this 1962 VPO version. Besides, it’s in stereo and the sound is much better. The Mozart with Schuricht and Casadesus, however, is a winner.

Japanische Rezension siehe PDF!

First to clarify: this is not the same K595 from Robert Casadesus and Carl Schuricht that appears on Orfeo (C536 001B), though the two are very alike, while the live VPO Brahms Second post-dates that recently reissued in 'Carl Schuricht: the Complete Decca Recordings' (7/17) by roughly nine years. This Mozart features the Swiss Festival Orchestra (the Orfeo, from Salzburg, is with the VPO) and finds Casadesus on top form, possibly out-classing his various other recordings – live and studio – of the same work. Schuricht directs fluid, well-paced accompaniment, stylishly shaped and beautifully played. Right from his first entry, Casadesus displays his signature clarity of finger work, building crescendos with impeccable judgement, switching between a sprightly staccato and warming legato. The Larghetto conjures up a mood of utter stillness: this truly is artistry of the highest order.

The Brahms is mellower than its predecessor, less volatile too. But there are moments that are unforgettable: the gently nudged strings beneath the solo horn at 12'23" into the first movement; the glowing blend of lower strings and brass for the second movement's second subject; and, most magical, the return of the outer section of the Allegretto grazioso (from 3' 15 "), so much more gentle than on the older version. Towards the close of the finale, from 7' 55 ", Schuricht gives precedence to the lower strings' motif, which greatly intensifies the build-up to the coda. The Decca version is similar but nowhere near as effective. Both works are captured in fine mono sound. And if you want to investigate a compelling follow-up, try Casadesus and Schuricht with the Orchestre National de la RTF in Brahms's Second Concerto (on INA) – not perfect by any means, but consistently gripping.

"Zappelmeister" konnte er nicht leiden: Carl Schuricht (1880-1967) war ganz das Gegenbild exaltierter Selbstdarsteller am Pult. Ein Dirigent alter Schule, der mit strikter Sachlichkeit und knappen Gesten großen Zauber entfalten konnte. Davon zeugen auch die klanglich brillant aufgearbeiteten Mitschnitte vom Lucerne Festival 1961/62. Die kristalline Klarheit, mit der Schuricht und Robert Casadesus in Mozarts Klavierkonzert KV 595 jede Phrase auskosten, setzt noch heute Maßstäbe. Wunderbar auch die Zweite von Johannes Brahms mit den Wiener Philharmonikern, die enorm vielschichtig, raffiniert aufgefächert und schwärmerisch aufleuchtend klingt.

Although brass overpower strings in some orchestral tuttis, Schuricht's Brahms is wonderfully fluid. Worth hearing for the Vienna Philharmonic's glorious cellos in the second subject of the first movement.

Beethoven und Bruckner waren seine Lieblinge. Die Klarheit des Musizierens pflegte er auch noch im hohen Alter, ebenso die Lebendigkeit mit der er das Geschehen mit ordnender Kraft durchpulste. Carl Schuricht stammt aus Danzig, wo er am 3.Juli 1880 das Licht der Welt erblickte. Er wuchs in einer Atmosphäre von Musik und Handwerk auf. Nach einer vom Elternhaus sorgfältig gesteuerten Ausbildung wirkte Schuricht nach Wanderjahren als Kapellmeister in Wiesbaden, später dort auch als Generalmusikdirektor. Das Musikleben entwickelte sich seinerzeit unter seiner Leitung zu beachtlichem Niveau. In großen Musikzentren agierte er als Leiter renommierter Orchester. Nach Beendigung des zweiten Weltkriegs wird Schuricht zu den ersten Nachkriegsfestspielen nach Salzburg berufen, eroberte die Podien in Frankreich und in England. Auch in Deutschland spielte er die Rolle eines gesuchten und beliebten Gastdirigenten. Gerne konzertierte er mit den Wiener Philharmonikern. Schuricht dirigierte auch Konzerte mit der London Philharmonic. Von einem jugendlichen Elan leben die sinfonischen Werke der Klassik, so die Sonnen durchlute zweite in D-Dur von Johanes Brahms. Bekanntlich spielen die Wiener Philharmoniker unter ihren Dirigenten auf differenzierte Weise. Bei Schuricht erscheint die Wiedergabe der 1962 im Kunsthaus eingespielten 2. Sinfonie ausgewogen. Kammermusikalisch ausgefeilt wirkt insbesondere das Intermezzi, während der Maestro im Jubelfinale keinesfalls mit schmetternden Effekten geizt. In den Bläser-Chören, in fein ziselierten Überleitungen und den großen Steigerungen, erweis sich Schuricht als großer Brahms-Stratege.

In Mozarts B-Dur Konzert KV 595, Mozarts letztem Werk der Gattung „Klavierkonzert“, liebäugelt der Pianist, der Franzose Robert Casadesus, keinesfalls mit der Rolle eines Schönklanganbeters, sondern korrespondiert mit dem Swiss Orchestra mit akzentuiertem, geschmackvoll artikuliertem Spiel als gleichgestimmter Partner mit den facettenreich leuchtenden Bläsern und akkurat agierenden Streichern des Orchesters. In dieser fein dosierten Mischung aus optimaler Haltung und wehmutsvoller Stimmung spielt der Pianist seine elegant getunten Klänge, gibt so dem harmonischen Schatten die ganze Farbigkeit. Auch werden die sprudelden Passagen keinesfalls einfach beiläufig etüdenhaft abgespult. Vielmehr die fein gerundeten Legati in atmende fließende Linien gefasst. In puncto Spielwitz und interpretatorischen Charme eine rhetorisch belebte, durchwegs pointierte Kommunikation zwischen dem Solisten und den wendig begleitenden Musikern des Schweizer Orchesters.

Die Aufnahmetechnik (l961 und 1962) gibt den musikalischen Ereignissen (live eingespielt bei Internationalen Musikfestwochen Luzern) klares Profil. Das instruktive Booklet stammt aus der Feder von Wolfgang Stähr.

Nicht jedes Tondokument ist auch historisch wertvoll. In den Archiven des Schweizer Radios schlummern sicher weitaus bessere und interessantere Aufnahmen als die hier veröffentlichten Mitschnitte des Mozart-Konzertes KV 596 und der 2. Symphonie von Brahms anlässlich der Internationalen Musikfestwochen Luzern 1961 (Mozart) und 1962 (Brahms).

Robert Casadesus spielt das Konzert sehr schön und wird von Carl Schuricht sehr präzise begleitet. Ein gutes Konzert, aber sicherlich kein Mitschnitt für die Ewigkeit. Auch die 2. Symphonie von Johannes Brahms mit den Wiener Philharmonikern wird die Diskographie nicht auf den Kopf stellen. Schurichts Dirigat ist recht traditionell, aber durchaus spannend und klangorientiert.

Von beiden Werken gibt es unzählige und auch technisch bessere Aufnahmen, so dass diese Luzerner Festival-CD wirklich nur etwas für Sammler und Liebhaber ist.

Carl Schuricht doesn’t present outstanding performances neither of the Mozart Concerto nor of the Brahms Symphony, so that this CD is a sound document which will bring some pleasure just to collectors and Lucerne Festival aficionados.