Emanuel Feuermann : Unexpected Discoveries
Feuermann was born in Galicia, Poland in 1902 and died in New York City in 1942. In his short life he was recognized as one of the greatest cellists of his time; his pall bearers included Toscanini, Ormandy, Serkin, Elman, Huberman, Schnabel, and Szell. From 1929-33, Feuermann taught at the Berlin Hochschule and collaborated with violinists Carl Flesch, Bronislaw Huberman, Szymon Goldberg, Joseph Wolfsthal and composer-violist Paul Hindemith-the latter three having formed a very successful string trio. The rise of Nazism in 1933 led to Feuermann's dismissal from the Hochschule. He then moved to London, along with Goldberg and Hindemith, and toured Japan and the United States (New York City); he then returned to Europe where he married Eva Reifenberg in 1935. After the premiere of Arnold Schoenberg's Cello Concerto with Sir Thomas Beecham, Feuermann moved to Zürich. He happened to be in Vienna at the time of the Anschluss, but fortunately, Huberman was able to help Feuermann and his family escape to Palestine; from there they moved to the United States. In 1938 he played with the NBC Symphony. Soon he was under contract with RCA Victor, and made several timeless trio recordings with Heifetz, Rubinstein and Primrose as well as recital repertoire-a body of work closely associated with his legacy which has been repeatedly reissued. He taught privately and at the Curtis Institute of Music for a few short months-from the fall of 1941 until his death in May 1942.
Cellist Terry King writes in his extensive notes:
The Recordings
These
CDs bring together Feuermann's rarest commercial recordings, many not available
since their original production in the 1920s-those from the acoustic era, i.e.,
before the advent of the microphone. All of Feuermann's acoustic discs are here,
including five with orchestra. In all, 18 pieces are new to CD, some of which
represent Feuermann's first versions of familiar repertoire he went on to record
electrically. It also gives us an insight into the daring and simplicity of his
performances in his twenties, altogether spontaneous and direct.
Feuermann began his recording career at the age of 19 in 1921 with portions of the Haydn D Major Concerto. At this time, so-called orchestral accompaniments for soloists amounted to little more than one player to a part, with all the musicians gathering around the recording device-a large megaphone-shaped horn that received the sound information. Soloists had to be positioned very close to the horn, therefore the orchestra was scattered about, some on risers gathering close to the horn. (See photo-Elgar conducting Beatrice Harrison) Listening to the Haydn, one can imagine the cramped room as we hear solo violinists rather than the full string complement. Nonetheless Feuermann's daring survives with spectacular episodes of dexterity. (Also recorded that day but not released were Schumann's Träumerei and Abendlied, the Chopin Nocturne in Eb and Popper's Elfentanz, the latter two recorded without accompaniment, according to the Parlophon logs.)
Feuermann's next session was on April 8, 1922 with the Chopin Nocturne in Eb again and the cellist's arrangement of Sarasate's Zigeunerweisen-part one only. The Chopin is accompanied by harp while Zigeunerweisen is paired with piano and harp. Schumann's ubiquitous Träumerei and Abendlied (arranged by Popper) are accompanied by a minuscule orchestra with the Mustel organ (essentially a non-electric pump reed organ [harmonium]). Here the record label erroneously refers to Feuermann performing "Violin-soli" (see illustration). (Later that year Feuermann recorded 6 sides with harp, none of which was released. The session consisted of cantabile pieces by Goltermann, Handel, Schubert, Pergolesi and Danbé.)
German Parlophon and other recording companies experimented with orchestral simulation in the acoustic era. Often an orchestra is mentioned on a label, but in fact only an upright piano and/or a harmonium with small ensemble was actually used. It was thought that the modestly sized harmonium could lend a fuller sound to emulate orchestral color. In addition to standard piano accompaniment, the harmonium's sustained harmonization and/or the harp's arpeggiation enhanced the orchestral effect. Parlophon's staff accompanists-harpist Max Saal and Carl Stabernack playing the Mustel organ-were the likely participants in addition to pianist Frieder Weissmann.
In 1924 Feuermann recorded 8 sides in one day, all of which were released. Surprisingly, Parlophon's P1395 Träumerei and Abendlied were recorded again, restoring him as cellist on the label, yet the earlier catalog number was retained (but with new matrix numbers-see illustration). Parlophon's recently engaged accompanist Fritz Ohrmann played the larger Dominator harmonium in this session assisted again by harpist Max Saal. The full-hearted Alt-italienisches Liebeslied and Cui's Cantabile reveal Feuermann's soaring singing, thoroughly modern, free of any remnant of past methodology. These pieces as well as the Dvorak Rondo and the Popper Serenade, are recorded with conductor Frieder Weissmann at the piano. All of the short pieces reveal a remarkable sound fidelity for the period.
Feuermann's last acoustic session was in March 1926, just a few months shy of the first use of the microphone at the Parlophon studio, ushering in the era of electrical recording. This is the very first recording attempt at the Dvorak concerto-just the Adagio movement was made (with a cut of some 42 measures), and was only issued by its English affiliate, Parlophone, available for just a few months. (An electric version was subsequently made in 1928-29.) This is its first release since 1926. Other orchestral works were made that day: Popper Hungarian Rhapsodie, 3 sides of the Haydn Concerto and one side of the Boccherini Bb Concerto, the Adagio movement. Of these, only the Rhapsodie was released, and Feuermann's rousing and unique entrance sets the stage for a stirring performance. We should remember that all 78rpm recording sides were true performances, as there was no editing technique until after WWII with the advent of tape (a German technology appropriated with the Allied victory).
In 1930 Weissmann was brought back to conduct members of the Berlin State Opera in Bruch's Kol Nidrei. A welcome reprise of the Popper Hungarian Rhapsodie on the Telefunken label in 1932 captures excellent resonance and clarity, and Kletzki's conducting is very attentive to every detail of tempo and balance. Telefunken's was the superior sound for the era. The performance is alive with impulse and drive, immediately captivating in every way.
Concerts and Broadcasts
Next
we offer a rare air check from Chicago's WGN in its first commercial release of
the Dvorak Concerto, from January 9, 1941 with the Chicago Symphony conducted by
its Associate Conductor, Hans Lange. This is a powerful headlong performance and
contrasts with the only other complete Dvorak live performance from a year
earlier with the National Orchestral Association, also presented here. In
addition, we include the Adagio from the concerto aired on February 25,
1940 with the NBC Symphony conducted by Frank Black.For the 1937-38 concert season, Feuermann launched an unprecedented series of concerts with the National Orchestral Association, America's professional training orchestra under Leon Barzin. The NOA's legacy filled the nation's orchestras with outstanding musicians and attracted the world's great soloists to the fold to inspire the youth including: pianists Schnabel, Arrau, Myra Hess, Serkin, Gabrilowitsch, Kraus, Entremont and Kapell-violinists Huberman, Milstein, Szigeti, Menuhin, Elman, Fuchs, Francescatti, Shumsky, and Michael Rabin-violist William Primrose-cellists Piatigorsky, Rose, Salmond and soprano Elisabeth Schumann.
This historic series surveyed most of the major concertos and concert works in four programs (see illustrations). Feuermann returned three more times in 1940 to offer a few more rarities by D'Albert, Dvorak and Reicha and to reprise both the Dvorak Concerto and Schelomo. Feuermann's astounding feat of performing 17 concert works with orchestra was not to be outdone until Rostropovich's Herculean sweep of concerts at Carnegie Hall in 1967.
Fortunately the 1940 concerts were recorded (onto delicate glass discs) and together, Feuermann and Barzin listened to them. Both musicians were unhappy. In an interview in 1974, Barzin remembered their reaction: "That's not the tempo I took!" and recalled Feuermann saying, "What? That's not what I did!" Responses like this are not so uncommon. The memory of performances can begin to create mythic success or dismal failure over time. Cellist David Soyer, who studied with Feuermann, lamented in 1977: "My god, the cellists of today never heard him. The only things that remain are the recordings, which actually are not the best examples of his playing. He was better than his recordings. But that's all there is. At least there's that: there's something left of the man." However, we can be certain that the performances are fair representations, as the pitch is correct. We can only imagine the deeper effect he made in person.
Few
of Feuermann's radio appearances have survived. When one shows up, in any sound
quality, there is cause for celebration. One of Feuermann's four appearances on
Bing Crosby's Kraft Music Hall is offered here. (It and the following
excerpt originates on YouTube through the courtesy of cellist and collector Gary
Stucka.) Broadcast from Hollywood on Thursday evenings, Crosby customarily
presented classical artists among myriad fare-usually leading names from the
film industry and popular music. The mood was always light and the artist also
had a short script to follow; this went a long way to deflate the regrettable
stereotypical image of classical musicians. To quote Crosby:
"The names of those who appeared with me on the Kraft show are a Blue Book of the loftiest talent in show business, but I had fun with them just the same. Those longhairs go for humanizing in a big way. They love it and the audience loves it, too. I never had any trouble with them about the song material [repertoire], the dialogue we were going to do together, or what we were going to talk about.
We were careful never to make my guests seem tawdry or cheap, or trick them into buffoonery. They got a kick out of yaketing about baseball or horse racing with me...I imagine over the ten-year span, at one time or another we had every important opera or concert name on the show, some of them many times, like Rose Bampton, Risë Stevens, Lotte Lehmann, Piatigorsky, Grainger, and others."
We hear Feuermann engage in a bit of banter with host Bob Burns before his performance of Chopin's Nocturne and de Falla's Jota (from Suite populaire espagnole arr. Maréchal). Feuermann goes off-script and mic and corrects Burn's complete botch of the composer and title (Jota) announcement to the laughter of all.
We can only imagine Feuermann's other appearances on the Kraft program; perhaps someday copies will emerge. On October 29, 1936 he played three works with Wolfgang Rebner: Chopin Nocturne, Senaille Allegro Spiritoso, and Albeniz Tango, announcing to Crosby, "Now, as you say, I will swing it" as the script reveals. On January 19, 1939, he performed Fauré Après un rêve and Sarasate Zapateado, and on August 3, 1939, Canteloupe Bourée auvergnate and Davidov At The Fountain, both with Theodore Saidenberg-the latter two works Feuermann would record in a few days with Franz Rupp in New York.
I hesitate to include a bit of the script from one of his earlier Kraft appearances (1/19/1939) where the dialog gets ridiculous, though it may be marginally amusing:
Crosby (after Feuermann's performance): Really, that's marvelous, Emanuel. I'm definitely a soft touch for the sympathetic strains of that swollen Stradivarius. In fact, as a sort of pro-tem vox populi, I feel well within my rights calling for an immediate encore.
Feuermann: Thank you, Bing. I had no idea you were such a sucker for the Pekingese doghouse.
Crosby: What's this Pekingese doghouse?
Burns: I want to tell you Bing, it's getting so we can't keep up with these here Carnegie Cats.
Feuermann: Well, I hate to hear you two fellows sound icky.
Crosby: You keep using language like that, my fine Feuermann, and you'll get yourself posted by the "House Committee" for using language unbecoming to an artist of your standing.
Feuermann: That's not important. Because when I play the cello, I'm sitting.
Crosby (after Feuermann's performance): Thank you, Emanuel Feuermann. That was really swell.
Also
offered is a broadcast portion of a New Friends of Music recital with pianist
Albert Hirsch at Town Hall in New York City on February 2, 1941. It only
includes the close of the second movement and finale of Beethoven's Sonata op.
102 no. 2 as broadcast over WJZ-recorded on primitive home equipment onto discs.
These are the only examples of Feuermann playing the Beethoven and the de Falla
Jota-reasons enough to put up with the imperfect sound.
The three Jewish conductors on CD 1 fled from Germany with the Nazi takeover in 1933. Frieder Weissmann (1893-1984) had joined the Berlin State Opera (1920-24) and other opera houses as well as assuming the directorship of the Dresden Philharmonic. In 1933, he went to Buenos Aires, and eventually to the US (Cincinnati, Scranton) and Havana. Michael Taube (1890-1972) from Poland had also joined Berlin State Opera, and then became Assistant to Bruno Walter. He is especially remembered for the establishment of the Palestine Philharmonic Orchestra (later to become the Israel Philharmonic) in 1935. Another Pole, Paul Kletzki (1900-73) held posts with the Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra, the Dallas Symphony Orchestra and later became the General Music Director of the Orchestre de la Suisse Romande.
Leon Barzin (1900-1999) studied violin with Ysaye among others and joined the New York Philharmonic-Symphony in 1919, but found his niche as its Principal Viola (1925-1929). His conducting ambition began as founder of the National Orchestral Association in 1930, and later, as founding director of the New York City Ballet. Born in Istanbul, Hans Lange (1884-1960) became Assistant to Toscanini with the New York Philharmonic-Symphony and later Associate Conductor (1936-1943) and Conductor (1943-1946) of the Chicago Symphony.
Dvorak wrote two works for cellist Hanus Wihan, for a tour in 1892 (Dvorak at the piano and violinist Ferdinand Lachner): the Rondo op. 94 and arranged Silent Woods from his set of four-hand piano pieces From the Bohemian Forest op. 68. Their success prompted Dvorak to also compose orchestral accompaniments for them. The Rondo is immortalized in Feuermann's 1939 educational film, but here we hear it with orchestra.
Feuermann was not fond of Bloch's masterpiece, Schelomo, but nonetheless performed it. He referred to it as "that damned Schelomo...it is the first piece which doesn't want to go into my head." For his performance in November 1940, the work was fresh in his ears as a month earlier he had recorded it for Victor with Stokowski and the Philadelphia Orchestra.
Eugen D'Albert (1864-1932), pianist, composer, Director of the Berlin Hochschule, and Kapellmeister to the Court of Weimar, studied with Liszt and Arthur Sullivan among others. He was a friend to many important musicians including Brahms and Richard Strauss; the latter wrote his Burleske for him. D'Albert is credited with composing the overture to Gilbert and Sullivan's Patience and wrote 21 of his own operas, one of which Tiefland, was quite popular as was his Cello Concerto (1899). The concerto is dedicated to cellist Hugo Becker.
Virtuoso cellist, composer and conductor Josef Reicha (1752-1795), was also uncle of the more illustrious composer Anton Reicha, and taught Anton both violin and piano. Josef was a very successful composer and was director of the Hofkapell in Bonn. There his orchestra included Anton Reicha, playing violin and second flute, Nikolas Simrock, the horn, and none other than Ludwig van Beethoven playing the viola and organ. Simrock went on to establish the famous publishing firm bearing his name and printed many of Reicha's works.