Here is an important addition to this work's discography and a 'must' for any serious Wagnerian collector. In 1943, Bayreuth decided to stage just one work, Die Meistersinger, which had not been given at the Festival for nine years (Wieland Wagner designed the traditional sets). There were no fewer than 16 performances attended by 33,000 people. The first eight found Furtwangler and Abendroth alternating as conductors, the latter performing the remainder on his own. There were alternating casts with some interchanging. In 1976, EMI Electrola issued a broadcast of a Furtwangler account with some passages missing from the original tape (12/76, nla—I reviewed it favourably at the time in these pages); now Preiser offer us a truly complete Abendroth evening. Furtwangler's cast comprised 'the old guard', several of whom had taken their roles as far back as 1934 and sounded their age. Abendroth appears to have been assigned the newcomers and, by and large, had much the better of the deal.
He was a greatly valued conductor in Germany, pre- and post-war (he conducted in Leipzig after 1945, when his Beethoven was much liked). His reading here matches Furtwangler's in breadth of concept, the ebb and flow of tempos, the discreet and unerring management of Wagner's miraculous transformations, the sure shaping of detail—listen to the support given to both of the Sachs/Beckmesser scenes. He misses only that unique surge of incandescence that was the older conductor's prerogative. The playing of the orchestra is for the most part wonderfully accomplished considering wartime exigencies, but the wobbling chorus isn't up to the standard we know from post-war Bayreuth.
The cast is among the best on disc. Schoeffler recorded Sachs post-war for Decca (2/52—nla) under Knappertsbusch (Teldec who, I believe, own that recording, ought to reissue it); a warm-hearted reading but slightly dry in tone. Some eight years earlier he was in fresher, more refulgent voice, answering every demand of the long part, combining poet and shoemaker comprehensively in one. His handling of the whole of Act 3 is masterly in sum and in detail, and he has plenty of voice left for the last scene monologues.
Hilde Scheppan, not a highly rated artist, proves a dream of an Eva, surpassing even the excellent but ageing Muller for Furtwangler and matching Grummer in the 1956 Kempe version (EMI, 2/93). She sings easily and naturally off the words with Reining-like radiance, sustains ''O Sachs, mein Freund'' with a flood of tone and leads the Quintet serenely. What more can one ask? Suthaus gives us as musical and eager a Walther as any on record and tires not at all throughout his taxing assignment. Some listeners don't appreciate his very individual, baritonal voice, but for me that is a small price to pay for such intelligence, such ardour. Kunz's Beckmesser is as subtly characterized as for Karajan at Bayreuth in 1951 (EMI, 9/90) and better sung. Dalberg (Pogner) in 1943 is in firmer voice than in 1951. Witte, who many years later sang Loge, then Walther at Covent Garden, is here a youthfully attractive and sweet-voiced David. Apart from a rusty Nightwatchman, the smaller roles are more than adequately filled.
The recording is lifelike and immediate, one or two moments of odd placing apart. Preiser, as usual, provide no notes and therefore no information on the set's provenance or its history. I am indebted to Curt von Westernhagen's Electrola notes for the information given above, the gist of which should have been included here. But that is a small blot on a set that has given me immense pleasure.'