Give 'Em Szell

George Szell, the Hungarian-Jewish conductor, led the Cleveland Orchestra from 1946 until his death in 1970. It was a tenure of exactitude and illumination. Over the years, Szell made many commercial recordings -- but these could make little more than a dent in the overall repertory.

So we Szell fanatics rejoiced six years ago when the Cleveland Orchestra itself issued a set of CDs. These marked the centennial of the great man's birth, and they documented him live, in concert. We heard Szell in repertory previously unavailable to us. A performance of Beethoven's Missa solemnis, for example, was staggering.

But there was much territory left to cover. Where, one was entitled to ask, was the Verdi Requiem? Well, that gap has now been filled for us, by a label called Golden Melodram. It offers a performance from 1968, at Carnegie Hall (where the Cleveland Orchestra and Chorus were touring). This is not a professional recording, unlike the centennial tracks. Far from it. It is, in fact, a bootleg. What happened, probably, is that some guy sneaked a tape recorder under his coat. And these instruments were none too keen 35 years ago. But this humble disc is better than nothing. Szell is just as awesome in the Requiem as one might have expected.

His discipline and resoluteness are in ample evidence. The orchestra and chorus are supremely well drilled. No Szell performance was ever without the most rigorous of preparation.

The four soloists are Gabriella Tucci, soprano; Janet Baker, mezzo- soprano; Pierre Duval, tenor; and Martti Talvela, bass. Tucci is blazing, with that wet, throbbing voice. She is something of a throwback, singing in the once-accustomed Verdian manner. Her "Libera me" -- the soprano tour de force that concludes the Requiem -- is a thrilling ride, with Szell in firm control of the reins. Tucci is on the low side of her big, climactic high C, but a) it could be the recording, and b) it hardly matters.

Janet Baker is her usual regal, dignified self. She never sang this music more effectively, including on her commercial recordings. The "Liber scriptus" section is harrowing. Her evenness and purity in the "Recordare" are astounding. She was as much a musician as she was a singer, and Szell must have loved her.

Pierre Duval is little remembered today, but he made a beautiful sound, as can be heard even on this lousy recording. His rhythm is a little balky, however (which must have irked Szell). Martti Talvela -- then in his early 30s -- is in glorious form.

But the overwhelming presence is the conductor. This is a performance of clarity and insight, from a mind that knows the score and can transmit that knowledge to these large forces. Szell's is a Requiem of both muscle and tenderness. It is like a huge symphony, with all "movements" connected, rather than a loose series of choruses, arias, and ensemble pieces.

So, much as we disapprove of illegality -- a tip of the hat to the guy in 1968 with the tape recorder under his coat.

--Inge Borkh is not a household name today (although she is probably better known than Pierre Duval). She was a Swiss soprano, specializing in the big, hell-for-leather Strauss roles: Salome and Elektra.

Gratifyingly, BMG Classics has memorialized Borkh on its "Living Stereo" label. We hear her in the music for which she was renowned -- namely, some major portions of Elektra and the Final Scene from Salome (which I like to call "the mad 'Liebestod'"). Her partner on the podium is Fritz Reiner -- another Hungarian-Jewish conductor -- leading the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. These sessions were held in the mid '50s.

Borkh was a "force of nature," to use an inevitable clich?. In his 1997 Memoirs, George Solti, the late conductor -- also Hungarian-Jewish! -- described the soprano as "a Teutonic Callas," "hysterical," "a wild beast in every sense." My. Borkh indeed had a certain animality, but she also sang with beauty and control. The writer and administrator Speight Jenkins called her "a charismatic soprano" of "demonic intensity." There are few like her today; there were few like her then.

The full flavor of her ability and character comes through on these reissued cuts. They are almost unbearable in their terribleness. Both Elektra and Salome go (or start) sadly mad, and Borkh portrays their condition lucidly -- which is a tricky thing to do. Moreover, the combination of Borkh and Reiner is hard to beat, as the latter was a Strauss conductor par excellence. This new disc includes a (purely orchestral) bonus: Reiner in the "Dance of the Seven Veils." Can this famously austere and severe conductor swing it? Of course.

-- In our January 27 issue, I wrote of a disc called Leontyne Price Rediscovered. This was a 1965 Carnegie Hall recital, showing the legendary soprano in her various splendor. It was produced and engineered by reconstructive whiz kid Jon M. Samuels.