The Böhm version, available for more than 10 years on Preiser (8/94) – in sound that the Andante hardly, if at all, improves on – was recorded live in the Vienna Konzerthaus where the State Opera continued operations after its home on the Ring was bombed. That conducted by Furtwängler is taken from performances at the State Opera in a new production in 1953. At the time, EMI was making a studio recording with the same cast but – crucially – omitting dialogue. The great Beethovenian had also been caught at the Salzburg Festival in a live recording (both listed above).

Although the timings of the two conductors are very similar in Vienna – Furtwängler very marginally slower – the two readings differ in the sense that Böhm opts for a direct, histrionic approach, while Furtwängler, as ever, views the work in deeper, more philosophical terms evinced in the crucial accenting of some rhythms and in a deliberate rubato for other key moments. His, as was his wont, is definitely a more interventionist manner. He seems, by a hairsbreadth, to obtain tighter, more coordinated playing from the VPO, helped by better recording (there is a deal of distortion on the 1944 set), and, not surprisingly, his post-war chorus is superior.

More importantly, Furtwängler’s performance is far more involving on all sides than on its EMI studio counterpart, not least because dialogue is included. Whether you prefer it to the wonderful Salzburg reading, or indeed to the Böhm, may depend on a view of the singers’ respective merits. The Leonore of Hilde Konetzni, a wonderfully expressive artist, is more womanly, lighter in timbre, more vulnerable in feeling than Martha Mödl’s darker-toned, perhaps more searing assumption. Konetzni is better at encompassing the awkward turns and she is more sensitive to individual words, very important here; but both are completely inside the role, perhaps more so than the grander but glowingly intense Flagstad at Salzburg. Torsten Ralf’sheroic tenor and anguished singing make him a Florestan of the highest rank, only a mite below the incomparable Patzak at Salzburg. Wolfgang Windgassen, singing his first Florestan, is not far behind in conveying the man’s inner torment and longings, although he has a monetary lapse of memory at the visionary climax of his scena.

Where Furtwängler in Vienna scores is with Sena Jurinac’s matchless Marzelline (Irmgard Seefried, excellent as she is, a shade pallid in comparison), Gottlob Frick’s unsurpassed Rocco and Rudolf Schock’s manly Jaquino. There’s not much to choose between the saturnine Pizarros of Paul Schöffler and Otto Edelmann. Neither Don Fernando has quite the gravitas for his role; Tomislav Neralic is frankly loud and insensitive for Böhm. Schöffler is also heard at Salzburg where Greindl is a fine Rocco and Schwarzkopf a pleasingly fresh Marzelline.

Among live recordings, the Klemperer from Covent Garden in 1961, recently out on Testament, must come into anyone’s reckoning. A superb cast including Jurinac, now Leonore, Jon Vickers, Hans Hotter and Frick, still a nonpareil of a Rocco, give their all under Klemperer’s rock-like command. That version also includes far more dialogue than the others, taking us even further into the nefarious happenings in Pizarro’s jail and the sense of release at his overthrow. That and the Salzburg performance are probably the best buys among this part of the work’s discography, though I would be loath to be without Konetzni and Ralf, who are deeply affecting on the Böhm set.