This third version of Capriccio makes the work three times lucky on disc. Recorded two years ago, 22 years after the Bohm set was made, it is another performance – with one serious reservation I’ll come to shortly – worthy of the relaxed pleasures afforded by Strauss’s last opera. Above all it enjoys the benefit of the Vienna Philharmonic’s warm, refulgent playing, which imparts even more of an autumnal glow than usual to the score. Ulf Schirmer, an up-and-coming conductor whom I heard conduct a rewarding Fidelio in Vienna a couple of years ago, is fully conversant with the work’s style, attending for the most part effortlessly to its natural but sometimes tricky ebb and flow.
The stream of civilized conversation is carried on by a team of singers obviously enjoying their intelligent repartee. Heilmann is all fiery ardour as the composer Flamand, Bar all eager impetuosity as the poet Olivier, Hagegard, long experienced in the part of the Count, suggests the character’s aristocratic geniality in his light, pointed delivery of the text. Fassbaender is very properly a larger-than-life luvvie having a high old time on a day out from the Paris stage – and reading her part in the dialogue episode with particular relish. Von Halem’s sonorous bass and amused air of cynicism are just right for the theatre-director, La Roche. Veterans Hornik and Hollweg make much of little as the Majordomo and prompter Taupe respectively. The Italian singers are good, and how thoughtful and touching of Decca to invite Hotter, in his eighties, to sing the tiny role of a servant – he was the Olivier of the premiere and La Roche, of course, on the pioneering EMI set.
Yes, you were right if you thought my reservation concerns Dame Kiri as Countess Madeleine. Even before I started making comparisons with her distinguished rivals on the other versions, I found her rather laid-back delivery and failure to grip her phrases debilitating to the work. On her San Francisco video performance (also on Decca, 6/95) her ravishing presence makes one overlook and forgive the deficiencies in her reading. Here they are ruthlessly exposed though she does rise finely to much of the great closing scene where her tone seems to regain its old warmth and richness, but by then she has ‘swum’ through too much of her part to make it tell.
When you go back to Schwarzkopf (EMI) and Janowitz (DG), who – significantly – recorded the role earlier in their careers than Dame Kiri and to an extent complement each other, you hear what Te Kanawa lacks. Schwarzkopf brings a wealth of meaning and character to her contribution. Here, you feel, is a Madeleine totally in command of the situation, who knows instinctively how to handle the conflict of emotions that surround her yet can still experience the agonies of love. I believe it to be her most successful opera recording of all, artist and role ideally matched. Janowitz is a shade cooler, a more objective aristocrat but she is the singer who most often ravishes the ear with her singing, the Strauss soprano par excellence. Schwarzkopf’s account of the Sonnet reprise seems one of the most sheerly beautiful pieces of Strauss singing on disc until you hear Janowitz tackle it, in its richer way just as lovely.
Other comparisons further differentiate the three sets. What distinguishes the EMI version is the sense of a real house party, every member of which is a lovable, interesting character, but what a pity the set (recorded in the Kingsway Hall in September 1957) wasn’t given the benefit of stereo recording at a time when that would have been eminently possible. For Bohm, DG provide, in the Herkulessaal at Munich, a much more spacious acoustic which hardly suggests the confined space of an elegant drawing-room, but makes clear every detail. The new Decca, discerningly produced by Christopher Raeburn and his team, comes in between, warm, well-balanced, but never too open.
When you compare the individual singers, other than Madeleine, you note how Gedda (EMI) as Flamand surpasses Heilmann in the subtlety of his delivery of his Sonnet and fervent appeal to Madeleine in a voice richer in overtones (the delicate weaving of voices in the intervening trio shows Walter Legge’s production at its best), while Schreier (DG) is more positive than Heilmann, less supple than Gedda. Fischer-Dieskau (EMI) as Olivier is marginally preferable to Prey (DG) and Bar, again by the way he marks the detail of the text. He moves to the role of Count on DG, where he makes almost too much of the reading; otherwise there is not much to choose between him, Waechter (EMI) and Hagegard – all of them are excellent.
All three bass-baritones are superb as La Roche. If Hotter (EMI) just has the edge, it is because his Lieder experience makes him pay even more attention to colouring the text than do his rivals and Ridderbusch (DG) is a shade too much like Fischer-Dieskau and Prey in tonal colour. By the way, Hotter (or Legge or Sawallisch) has noted that Strauss asks for a falsetto when La Roche apes a tenor’s high notes, and sings it thus, unlike his rivals. It is just such scrupulous attention to detail that makes the EMI set so rewarding.
And it is EMI that score again as regards Clairon. Ludwig’s smiling, flirtatious creation makes Troyanos (DG) sound ordinary, Fassbaender a shade blowzy. Where the conducting is concerned, Sawallisch is distinctly faster all round than either Bohm or Schirmer, an advantage when certain passages seem to hang fire on the new version, but of course the recording of the orchestra does show its age, which may influence some against EMI. Bohm is perhaps most attentive to detail.
Most Straussians will want all three versions. Someone wishing to add one set to his or her collection has to weigh up several factors. The new Decca has the most up-to-date sound, catches the mood of the piece nicely and is well conducted. It has an engaging, carefully chosen cast with a fault at its centre. Janowitz, Bohm and Strauss are a heady mixture on the DG version of 1972, which still sounds well and may be the safest recommendation. But the EMI, an all-time classic, remains an unrivalled experience that I enjoyed anew and, if you don’t mind the odd mannered phrase from Schwarzkopf and the mono recording, comes nearest to the spirit of Strauss.'