It seems strange that this, the seventh complete recording of Der Freischutz, has never before appeared in England. It is true that the other 15 include some great names among the conductors – Bohm, Furtwangler, Kempe, Kleiber Vater und Sohn, Kubelik – but Robert Heger’s qualities as a Kapellmeister from the heart of the German tradition show well in an opera close to that heart; and his cast is as remarkable as any ever assembled on records. Agathe was Birgit Nilsson’s debut role in Stockholm in 1946, and she seemed to have lost none of her feeling for it in this 1969 recording. She was then at the height of her Wagnerian powers, but she never overpowers the lighter Erika Koth in their exchanges. Their duet opening Act 2, “Schelm, Halt fest!”, is beautifully judged in response to the music, with the expert coloratura Koth dancing nimbly around Nilsson’s serene phrasing: more than any other Agathe I have heard, Nilsson really listens to the words and takes the implications of her phrasing from them, in a way that Weber would surely have been the first to appreciate. “Leise, leise” is sublimely done, with anxiety tingeing the graceful phrases, and so is the calmer prayer “Und ob die Wolken”. Koth might have made more of the song about the ghostly watchdog, and the closing section can take more of a lilt as the music lightens the mock-spookery, but this is a performance that sets off Nilsson’s well.
There is also a fine pairing between the men. Nicolai Gedda sings Max’s “Durch die Walder” very skilfully, the elegance of the melodic lines untroubled but the tone shadowed by apprehension that deepens before the swarthy pride of Walter Berry’s sneering Kaspar. After the mock-jollity of the drinking song, Berry strips away the bonhomie, and “Schweig! schweig!” falls terrifyingly upon the ear. In the Wolf’s Glen – excellently played by Heger, with not too much in the way of extraneous din from the effects department – the tension between the two builds up superbly as the scene develops. For all that it is the staple of any German tenor, Max is not a completely straightforward role since he is essentially a weak hero; and Gedda has the exact measure of him, keeping in the voice a note of the urgency and despair that drive him onward and downward to his near-destruction.
There is a full text and translation, with dialogue adapted by Gisela Schunk (and glossed a little, for instance so as to bring into the open the possibility that Kaspar’s actions are vengeance wrought for his loss of Agathe to Max), and an interesting essay by Peter Branscombe. Among the many recorded versions, this one may not perhaps take pride of place, but no one who loves what Prof. Branscombe calls “Weber’s incomparable score” will want to miss the performances of Nilsson, Gedda and Berry.'