As a very small, Bach-loving child I got to know the Fifth Brandenburg Concerto from Alfred Cortot's 1932 recording on four very scratched sides of two 'celebrity label' HMV records. Even in those far-off days it seemed to make a poor showing beside Adolf Busch's Brandenburg No. 1 on Columbia (now available on EMI, 12/91), Boyd Neel's Nos. 3 and 4 (Decca) and Mogen Woldike's Nos. 2 and 6 (HMV plum label—both long deleted). Now, with these excellent transfers on to CD in front of me I realize that part of the problem, at least, was the appalling state of the records themselves, which I had picked up for 6d at a church fete. The rest of this two-CD compilation is new to me and, as I write, I am listening to Cortot's remaining five Brandenburg Concertos with considerable astonishment for the first time.
Perhaps the most surprising of the estimable features of Cortot's set are his comparatively brisk tempos. The opening movement of No. 3 is the exception, but No. 1 is significantly faster than that of Busch, for instance, and much else here is livelier in tempo than several famous recordings of the 1950s, such as that with Szymon Goldberg (Philips)—and the use of harpsichord in all concertos but the Fifth where Cortot is the piano soloist. At the other end of the scale, so to speak, there are some less agreeable but certainly no less surprising encounters for the present-day listener with ears spoilt by the refinement of endless retakes. I am greatly in favour of recordings made with no more takes than are absolutely necessary but here, alas even the absolutely necessary has not been taken into account; and there is no more catastrophic example of what I mean than the sheer chaos at the closing cadence of Trio II in the First Concerto. Only a thoroughly misleading conductor's beat could have caused three players to fall so flat upon their faces, and it is no credit to Cortot that they apparently were not allowed to redeem themselves with another take.
Cortot is not merely individual in matters of rhythm and phrasing, but on occasion eccentric to the point of incredulity. The most startling example occurs in the first movement of Concerto No. 2 where he actually introduces a quaver rest before the concluding bar of the main tutti material. It would not be paltering with the truth to say that I could hardly believe what I was hearing. However, there it is, several times over and without doubt the greatest eccentricity I have ever heard in a performance of this work or indeed, perhaps of any other. Ritenutos, of which there are many disconcerting examples, and portamentos are as nothing by comparison with this astounding idiosyncrasy, though in a more musically conventional climate than this they would cause protracted movement of the eyebrows. The concluding movement of this work is, by contrast, convincing and admirably light-textured, give or take the odd absent trumpet note.
The remaining concertos have their strong and weak moments in Cortot's hands. Flutes rather than recorders, of course, in the Fourth which, overall, is one of the most successful performances; but I would not be without the Fifth. He has an illuminating grasp of the structure of the first movement cadenza, and brings out the left-hand melody at bars 163–6 where so many players seem almost unaware of its existence. And, though the playing is less stylish, he has a clearer conception of the Sixth Concerto than Busch, knocking a full 90 seconds off the latter's interminable eight-and-a-half minutes for the first movement, and over two minutes in the case of the Adagio ma non tanto.
I thought Couperin's eighth Concert from Les gouts-reunis, dans le gout Theatral would be unbearable, but that was to overlook an extraordinary continuity in French musical thought and tradition and I was proved wrong. Taken on its own terms, the performance is noble and, broadly speaking, style-conscious, too, conveying much of Couperin's gracefulness and poise. Of the Brahms Double Concerto, Op. 102 I need say little. The performance is well known to collectors and the partnership of Thibaud (who is also the violinist in Brandenburg No. 5) and Casals a rewarding one.
I have been wholly fascinated if not entirely delighted by this historic reissue. There are far too many interesting occurrences taking place here for me not to want to listen to it many times over and bar a handful of omitted repeats, this must be the earliest preserved recording of the Brandenburg Concertos, preceding Busch (all available on the above-mentioned EMI issue) by almost three and a half years. The material has been lovingly assembled and illuminatingly presented with one of Cortot's book-plates decorating the front cover. Irresistible to the curious and to the open-minded.'