Beethoven: Symphonies nos. 5 and 6; Overtures (Coriolan, Egmont, Leonore no. 3, The Creatures of Prometheus, The Consecration of the House)
Pro Musica Symphony, Vienna; Jascha Horenstein, conductor.
Vox Legends VOX2 7808. Recorded 1953–58, mono. 2 compact discs.
Horenstein’s Beethoven: Granite Integrity from the Vox Vaults
There are conductors who seduce. Others who bludgeon. Horenstein—and this reissue reminds us forcefully why he matters—simply tells the truth.
These mono recordings from the 1950s, made with what was essentially the Vienna Symphony playing under contract pseudonym, have circulated for decades in various incarnations. I remember borrowing the LPs from my local library in the late 1960s, drawn to something I couldn’t quite articulate then but recognize now as honesty. Not the soulless efficiency of Toscanini’s NBC broadcasts. Not yet the creeping beautification that would eventually embalm Karajan’s later work. Just Beethoven, unvarnished and structurally coherent, presented by a maestro who understood that unity of tempo across movements could generate cumulative power rather than mere consistency.
The Pastoral opens this collection, and immediately one hears what distinguishes these Viennese players from the Baden-Baden forces Horenstein would later conduct in his stereo remake of the Eroica. They’re awake. Alert. The first movement has genuine spring in its step—this is a bracing country walk with perhaps a whiff of ozone suggesting the coast isn’t impossibly distant. Horenstein maintains forward momentum without sacrificing classical proportion, and those inner string details (listen to the violas in the development) emerge with remarkable clarity given the recording’s age.
What strikes me most forcefully is how little Horenstein relaxes for “Scene by the Brook.” Oh, the tempo broadens marginally, enough for necessary contrast, but there’s no wallowing. The melodies unfold with genuine affection yet retain their connection to classical precedent—this is still the Beethoven who studied with Haydn, not the proto-Wagnerian of later mythologizing. The peasants’ dance adopts Klemperer’s stately gait but injects real trenchancy, even humor. And that storm—held back just enough to make its unleashing genuinely cathartic rather than merely loud.
The mono sound serves this music well. Yes, there’s the period reverberation that Vox favored for those single-speaker gramophones most of us owned then. But the balance remains musical, the distortion minimal. These are not audiophile recordings. They are documents of music-making.
Now the Fifth. Inevitably the Fifth.
Horenstein’s first movement stakes out what I’ve come to recognize as his characteristic approach: fundamental lyricism balanced against determined rhythmic propulsion. He doesn’t rush—God knows he doesn’t rush—but neither does the music sag. Those “way points” he establishes, the structural pillars from which he builds his architecture, become increasingly audible as the movement progresses. The coda arrives not through accumulated excitement but through fierce logic, and the disciplined playing helps enormously.
Will this satisfy listeners seeking the visceral thrill of Carlos Kleiber’s Deutsche Grammophon recording? The monumental grandeur Klemperer achieved on EMI? The nerve-end exposure of Furtwängler’s legendary performances? Probably not. This Fifth occupies different territory. The second movement meanders—deliberately, I think—with that opening theme encouraged to wander rather than march. Woodwind solos have real character (these Vienna players were superb), but Horenstein seems more interested in mordancy than sentiment.
The third movement is where some listeners will part company with this interpretation. Tension drops. The blood remains unstirred. But consider what happens in that crucial transition to the "finale", that descent through darkness before the blaze of C Major. Horenstein stresses mystery here, and when the last movement arrives, the emphasis falls on grim determination rather than all-embracing triumph. This isn’t the Fifth that frays nerves or inspires hearts. It’s a Fifth that insists on struggle from first bar to last.
An interesting experience. Not always a comfortable one.
The overtures prove no mere filler. Coriolan receives intense, romantic treatment—yet still held in that iron Horenstein grip, that capacity to generate tension through sheer structural coherence. The dark wind solos, the climax built with tragic grandeur that recalls Furtwängler (matchless in this work), the devastating fade into smoky nothingness—we’ve lived through something here. Captains and kings have genuinely departed.
Egmont shares these characteristics: grieving intensity from the opening, with basses particularly well caught in the recording. Leonore no. 3 begins with a tremendous timpani crack—you can almost see the stick rebounding—and proceeds to cover every aspect of what is essentially a symphonic poem. Excitement, drama, introspection, blazing energy, all present in Horenstein’s characteristically unadorned sound palette.
The Creatures of Prometheus offers welcome contrast, warm and good-humored. The Consecration of the House, recorded slightly later with more reverberation and brighter sonics, pays tribute to Handel in its central section—notice Horenstein’s use of the bassoon, another conducting fingerprint. Klemperer gave this piece more grandeur. Horenstein opts for animation. Both approaches illuminate a work heard too seldom.
Joel Lazar’s essay on Horenstein’s life and work adds substantial value, as it did in earlier Vox reissues. But the performances themselves constitute the real argument. They remind us that Beethoven interpretation need not choose between Apollonian clarity and Dionysian frenzy. Horenstein found a third path: granite integrity, structural coherence, and cumulative power built from within rather than imposed from without.
The mono sound will deter some listeners. Let it. Those willing to hear past the technical limitations will discover a Beethovenian of real stature, one whose insights remain valuable precisely because they refuse to pander. This isn’t the Beethoven of the concert hall spectacular. It’s the Beethoven of the study, examined with intelligence and presented without cosmetic enhancement.
Full of insights. Full of interest. And yes—very much worth investigating, particularly at superbudget price. These recordings have survived for good reason.
