Deryck Cooke declared, famously, when this set appeared on LP that it was the ''greatest gramophone event of the century''. I wish he had lived to hear this CD, digital transfer, since he would have rejoiced, as I do, at the vastly improved sound, which reveals the renowned interpretation as something even more engrossing and satisfying than one had remembered. It puts decisively in the shade the efforts, to date, of the latest Ring contestants and the readings of other conductors, bar Krauss (Foyer/Silver Sounds) and to a lesser extent Bohm (Philips). It is simply that Furtwangler conceives the work on a vast epic and spiritual scale that they seem unable to aspire to, while at the same time giving to the smallest detail such extraordinary incisiveness and precision that more of the score is revealed than on virtually any other recording—and that is allowing for the occasional technical imperfection attendant on any live performance. When I reviewed the last LP transfer in May 1986 (nla) I quoted from DC's original review. I make no apologies for doing so again as good and authoritative writing doesn't stale: ''The superlative quality of Furtwangler's interpretation resides in its awareness that The Ring is not in any sense a beautiful and sophisticated work a la Karajan or a frenetically violent one a la Solti, but a stark, heavy, brooding work, a profound story set in a primitive world of ancient Teutonic gods and heroes to whom every action and event is of the utmost existential importance a la Wagner.''
I would qualify that this time round in only one respect. Anyone who listens carefully to Act 2 of Siegfried will know that Furtwangler was just as able to enter into the lighter aspects of the cycle. His treatment of the various colloquies in this act, indeed in the whole opera (said, astonishingly enough, not to have been Furtwangler's work), points up the conductor's skill in characterizing each participant in turn, each scene's specific nature—the louring, still-dangerous Alberich, the philosophical Wanderer/Wotan, the scheming, overweening Mime, the bold, buoyant and eventually lonely Siegfried. Yet while each actor, each section has its own Klang they are conceived as part of a whole. That's not least due to Furtwangler's mastery of transition, a sine qua non in Wagner, and his control of comparative speeds, a feature of his direction that would need a whole article to illustrate and is, I suspect, the central secret of his pre-eminence in Wagner. To these must most importantly be added his unique gift in giving those rising and glowing passages for strings that abound throughout the work an incandescence you discover in few other conductors' readings. Overriding all is his famed ability to encompass supremely the great climaxes in each work. In his widow's contribution to the original booklet, like so much else excluded from its wholly unsatisfactory CD counterpart, she told us that after the last night of the cycle (which was given in concert act by act over a period of a month) the conductor commented quietly: ''I think he [Wagner] would have been satisfied with me''.
Some, including myself, have always felt that the composer might have been even more satisfied with Furtwangler's La Scala reading of 1950, also now available in vastly improved sound on various 'unofficial' pressings. For this review I have once again made many comparisons. I still feel that there are points where the added frisson of a stage performance persuades Furtwangler to even greater heights but, now we can hear those evenings in better sound, the audience 'contribution' does become very tiresome at times, while at Rome the listeners, vetted for colds and coughs, are remarkably quiet. Where the Scala cycle did have more than an edge is in its Brunnhilde, Kirsten Flagstad, whose account of the role remains matchless. Which takes me to the singers. Modl is no Flagstad in terms of vocal glory but the depth of expression throughout—listen to the whole of the Todesverkundigung and ''War es so schmahlich'' in Die Walkure and you'll hear what I mean—and her way with words remains as memorable as ever, and she rises magnificently to the challenge of the Immolation at the close of the whole work. Ferdinand Frantz's Wotan is reliable, steady, clearly enunciated but if you listen, say, to the Farewell and to the Wanderer's parting advice to Mime as sung by Frantz and then by Hotter in the Krauss set, you will realize the difference between competence and inspiration.
Ludwig Suthaus is no match for Windgassen (Krauss or Bohm), nor indeed for Svanholm in the Scala performance, in suggesting Siegfried's youthful energy in Act 1 of Siegfried, but thereafter he gives an increasingly impressive and thought-through reading of the role, none better on record since Melchior. Listen to his sense of yearning at the end of Act 2 of Siegfried, pouring out his weary, questing soul in eloquent phrases, wonderfully seconded by Furtwangler, or to his elevated, impassioned death (followed by Furtwangler's unsurpassed Funeral March). I enjoyed Windgassen himself more as Loge and Siegmund than I had in the past: his innate musicality, in terms of line and notes and his unassuming sense of the shape of a phrase, make him unobtrusively right in both roles, though Vinay for Krauss, even more Treptow for Furtwangler at La Scala, are better at suggesting Siegmund's youthful impetuosity. Looking back now, one realizes how rich the early 1950s were in Heldentenors.
Hilde Konetzni is a lyrical and firm Sieglinde, slightly more involving in the Milan performance than she is here. Most of the other female roles are strikingly well taken on the EMI set. Jurinac's radiant Woglinde and Gutrune, Grummer's urgent Freia, Streich's fresh Woodbird, Klose's magnificent Waltraute (marvellously matching Modl in verbal acuity), and rewarding Erda (in Siegfried), are all treasurable assumptions. Only the two Frickas are somewhat blank in expression.
Neidlinger's Alberich (in Das Rheingold) isn't quite the force it was to become in the Bohm and Solti (Decca) readings, but none the less more potent than most others. In the later operas Pernerstorfer proves a subtle and experienced interpreter of the part. Patzak's Mime has always been controversial. Some, including Cooke, found it underdone. Having listened too often to cackling, rasping tenors in the role, I appreciate Patzak's scrupulous musicianship and his ability to make the dwarf sound just as nasty by obeying note values and varying his tone without distorting it. Poell is exemplary as Donner and Gunther, Fehenberger (himself a notable Lohengrin in Munich) a wondrously lyrical Froh. Frick's Fafner (Das Rheingold) and Hunding are superior to any others on disc and that's saying something, and Greindl is almost as terrifying a Hagen as he was for Bohm 12 years later, but he's too gruff for Fasolt.
In its new incarnation, and making comparisons with the Scala version or with Krauss's Bayreuth recording, I noticed how much the engineers have favoured the orchestra. You can now hear almost as much detail as in modern sets such as the Janowski (RCA) and this goes to emphasize Furtwangler's complete mastery. You might try something of the third scene of Das Rheingold or the Prelude to Act 3 of Siegfried, or the confrontation between Brunnhilde and Siegfried in Act 2 of Gotterdammerung if you want to confirm my views on this magnificent achievement, marred only as I've suggested by EMI's poor presentation—how can they dare to issue The Ring without a libretto?
In the past I have suggested this version only as a supplement to one of the modern, stereo recordings; as it now sounds I would recommend it as an alternative first choice to the equally fine, rather different Krauss interpretation. Strange that both were performed within months of each other in 1953 and neither was intended to be preserved on disc! That proves inspiration cannot be manufactured at a record company's wish, but only when circumstances and the fates are willing.'