Of
Herbert von Karajan's five recorded cycles of Beethoven symphonies, conventional wisdom has it that the two best were the early-'50s EMI cycle with the
Philharmonia Orchestra and early-'60s DG cycles with the
Berliner Philharmoniker. The standard argument goes that as the Austrian conductor's interpretations became progressively more beautiful and refined, they became progressively less expressive and emotional, and therefore only his two earliest cycles present
Karajan before his virtues turned to vices. For those who accept this argument, the debate between which of the two early cycles is better usually centers on the merits of the orchestras, with some preferring the English orchestra's more characterful playing and others the German orchestra's more polished tone.
But, setting aside the conventional wisdom and the standard arguments and listening to the EMI Beethoven cycle afresh, it has to be said that, whatever the merits of the later cycles,
Karajan's early-'50s cycle is a mess. Though the
Philharmonia was usually a superlative orchestra, their playing here is oddly raw and ragged. Listen to the scrappy strings in the First's Andante cantabile con moto, the weak winds in the coda of the Sixth's Andante molto mosso, and the blustery brass in the Fifth's closing Allegro. Then check out the English orchestra's overall ensemble. In the slipshod scales opening the First's Finale, in the slapdash sonorities starting the Seventh's Poco sostenuto, in the clogged textures climaxing the Fifth's Andante con moto, and in so many other crucial passages, the English musicians appear to hardly be paying attention to each other, much less to the conductor on the podium.
That disconnect is at the core of the problems with this cycle. For whatever reason,
Karajan doesn't seem to be able to impose his will on the
Philharmonia. Though the Austrian is constantly trying to make things happen in the performance, the musicians seem to resent his intrusions.
Karajan strains for effect by clipping rhythms, pushing tempos, and exaggerating dynamics, but the orchestra refuses to budge and instead holds firmly to its own notions of how the music ought to go. The disparity between what
Karajan wants and what the orchestra is willing to give thoroughly subverts these performances, and the result is a set of the symphonies that surely ought not be considered among the better Beethoven cycles.
Though produced in monaural sound for EMI by the legendary Walter Legge, it also has to be conceded that the recordings here are not especially impressive, either. All but the Ninth were taped in London's Kingsway Hall -- the Ninth was taped in Vienna's Musikvereinsaal -- but all are dim, gray, and sorely lacking in detail. Plus, it has to be added that there are several all-too-audible tape edits here. In the recapitulation of the Ninth's opening Allegro ma non troppo, for example, Legge has joined a performance that was slowing down to a performance that was speeding up, and the ensuing clash of tempos effectively destroys the music's momentum.