It's hard to realize that, when this performance was recorded in Vienna in 1944 (although it didn't, of course, appear commercially until much later, on Acanta LPs), Fidelio still awaited its first appearance on disc. Fifty years and countless versions later, it can stand as a kind of benchmark of authentic interpretation. All the singers, except the Don Fernando, are German-speaking, the conductor is versed in the best of Viennese and Beethoven style, and the same can be said of chorus and orchestra. More important, a patent sincerity and conviction are projected by an ensemble of singers familiar with each other's work, for this is a cast that you might have expected to hear in Vienna at that time or at least just after the war. As the sound, a few moments of distortion apart, is clear, well-balanced mono, this is a version that can stand comparison with the best available. Nevertheless, I feel Preiser should really be offering it at mid rather than full price.
Hilde Konetzni, whom I heard in the role when the Vienna State Opera company came to Covent Garden in 1947 (my first visit to the house), is quite simply the most completely equipped Leonore on any recording. She has the ideal voice (basically lyrical but with heroic overtones), range and technique for the part. Nothing is shirked; everything is sung naturally and easily. Even more important, she conveys the essence of Leonore's predicament and character in her sincere, involving projection, both in her singing and speaking. More than once the tingle factor came into play while listening to her greatly moving interpretation.
She is partnered by Ralf's equally admirable Florestan, only surpassed by Patzak's on the EMI 1950 Salzburg recording (12/93). Like that notable Austrian tenor, this Swedish one sings the role with an effortless and innate sense of the right style and entirely without forcing or exaggeration. Indeed, it is a wonder to hear the part, so often a trial to singer and audience alike, encompassed so effortlessly by Ralf and, like his Leonore, he provides unaffected feeling. Schoeffler, even more accomplished here as Pizarro than six years later at Salzburg, is in fresher and steadier voice, and just as menacing. Seefried, 24 at the time of the recording, is as charming and appealing a Marzelline as you would expect and in better voice than in later versions. Klein's tone is a little raw for the youthful Jaquino, but he is firmly inside the character. Alsen, who portrayed Don Fernando in London, is here a natural for Rocco and sings warmly, excusing one or two moments of doubtful intonation. Neralic is rather a wooden Don Fernando. Bohm's conducting is precise, weighty when called for, not unidiomatically romantic.
As a bonus to this highly recommendable Fidelio, Preiser offer Konetzni in a radiant account of Rezia's noble aria as she eagerly awaits her beloved. Her singing is full of anticipatory joy, her cries of ''Huon!'' near the end heart-warming. Once again she is in effortless voice, her singing seamless throughout. The recording, no date given, is even better than that for Fidelio.'