1-13 　　Carlo Maria Giulint

Carlo Maria Giulini (1914) – Beethoven: Symphony # 7; Schumann: Symphony # 3 ("Rhenish") (Mahler reorchestration); Stravinsky Firebird Suite; Ravel: Ma Mere l’oye; Bizet: Jeux d’enfants.
Of the two dozen conductors represented in this series so far, Giulini is the only one still with us (physically, at least – he retired nearly a decade ago).  None of the others even came close – the next youngest was Evgeny Mravinsky, who died in 1988. If the producers’ choices imply that those with the most interesting and significant personalities all were trained in the ethos of the previous century and reached their peak in the first half of the twentieth, I wholeheartedly agree. Indeed, this volume illustrates the point. While all of the Giulini performances, whichever orchestra he leads, are solidly idiomatic, wonderfully detailed and richly played and recorded, none really stands out as unique or special. Toscanini, Furtwangler, Stokowski, Mengelberg, Beecham – their records can’t be mistaken for anyone else’s. The truly great conductors of the 20th century boldly asserted their own domineering personality and stood apart from, rather than blended into, the current norm of deferential respect for the composer. The Giulini performances here are all superb, among the finest you’ll ever hear, but there’s just not much feeling – not in the startling precision of the Stravinsky, the exquisite detail of the Ravel or even in the slow unfolding of the Beethoven Seventh. Of course, it’s a matter of personal taste – those who dismiss the earlier approach as vulgar and misguided egotism will breathe a huge sign of relief at the prospect of Guilini’s impeccable, careful guidance. But my preferences lie elsewhere. Even so, one of the pieces here is especially valuable, although for reasons other than the performance – the Schumann Third, as reorchestrated by Mahler. It’s hard to believe, but until the 1956 Paray/Detroit Symphony record of the original orchestration, it was thought necessary to compensate for the pianistic composer’s alleged deficiencies as a clumsy arranger. Nowadays, the tables are reversed – the original sounds just fine and Mahler’s “retouches,” which vary the texture, strengthen internal harmonies and add blaring brass and thundering tympani, can seem more a parody of the later romantic style than helpful or essential to eliciting Schumann’s aim. Even so, an A/B comparison with the Paray reveals that Mahler’s emendations are relatively mild (given all the flack they generally sustain), but fascinating nonetheless.