No account of the scene could rise above the ordinary without strong guidance from the podium. And a high merit of this performance is that for long stretches, it doesn’t sound like guidance—or rather, it sounds as if guidance is passed around among the participants in a continual give-and-take. The right person seems in charge at all times. With one arguable exception, the singers give the impression that they are leading out with their own firm notions of movement, shape, and destination, and while these notions are usually quite in conformance to the indications on the page, they also incorporate distinctly individual points of expression. It’s not that these points (including the ones I cited in tracking the scene’s progress) are so different from those made by other singers in the same places, as it is that they never seem “observed,” but rather fulfilled, as if the singers had created the music, then someone wrote it down. Moreover, this is accomplished in an environment of almost constant rubato and orchestral surges that rise to make a defining gesture, then fall back to accompanimental level. Again, these just follow up on what the score is suggesting, and again they do not differ as ideas from those of many other conductors—they are simply done with greater dramatic conviction and a more ingrained orchestral response.

Bodanzky’s reputation for rushing through things is not, as I’ve indicated, entirely undeserved, but most of this scene and of the Act 1 Prelude is, if anything, on the slower side. With respect to tempo choices, the latter part of the scene holds the greatest interest. At a place where we might expect a pushing along (at “Ach! könnt’ ich deiner Werth erscheinen!“—the beginning of Elsa’s rejoinder to “Athmest du nicht“), Bodanzky holds very steady, the rhythm chugging along as if its regularity were the whole point (Elsa still in control of herself, though inwardly excited), and this remains the case when she arrives at “O, mach’ mich stolz” and even, soon thereafter, at “Meiner Treue,” even though she is pushing the envelope. Then follows “Höchstes Vertrau’n,” with its cut, and then, at “Hilf Gott, was muss ich hören!” the allegro molto that, with two brief pauses, carries through to Telramund’s entrance. Here, it could be perceived that Bodanzky is driving things too hard, almost a presto, and Lehmann scrambling a bit toward the end. She goes right with it, though—most of the way, it still seems as if it could be “her” tempo. And now, though a little more than 87 years too late, I must express outrage. While I don’t like the cut in “Höchstes Vertau’n” (it’s from “das ich in dir mög glücklich sein!” to “Drumwolle stets den Zweifel meiden,” some 34 bars of dramaturgical continuity), it works perfectly well musically, and I can live with it (did, indeed, for many years). But then, as the scene builds to its climax, there is a slash from “Nie soll dein Reiz entschwinden” to”Hörtest du nichts?” that saves nothing except a possibly uncomfortable high B for Lehmann. Nonsensical and unforgivable.