The next item in my chronology of early Arabellas is from Salzburg in 1947, now under Karl Böhm, and in sound that, though still that of a mono broadcast from the ’40s, is much improved over the ’42 transmission. Perhaps Böhm is not quite Krauss, but we hear more of him and his orchestra, the VPO, common to both sets. I enjoyed this recording immensely. In the booklet that accompanies the DGG “Festival Documents” CD release, dated 1994, there is an interesting essay by Gottfried Kraus, with several passages quoted from feuilletonists and critics attendant on the performance, as the festival struggled to get back on its feet in the immediate aftermath of WW2. It touches on a theme I’ve already introduced, the agon between standing operatic traditions and the modern concept of opera as play-set-to-music, with performances tailored to that idea. The director of the Arabella production was Günther Rennert, on his way to becoming one of the leading directors of the postwar opera scene. Kraus cites the critic Hans Rutz, writing in the Wiener Zeitung and praising Rennert’s work, but also noting that “. . . in this opera [the singer] must be a lyrical, bel canto artist above all else,” dedicated to taking singing “very seriously indeed,” and “not to be turned into an actor as easily as that.” Kraus goes on to observe that, whatever Rennert may have done, the performance we hear is held together by Böhm and “The Old School of Ensemble Playing,” with a cast and orchestra well schooled in Straussian style.

That is very much what we hear on this recording. Böhm is entirely authoritative, and the show moves smartly along. The Arabella is Maria Reining. She was a relatively late starter as a singer, and had just turned 44 at the time of the performance, but her strong lyric soprano sounds young and expertly guided, able to fill out the line satisfyingly when needed, but staying connected when drawing back to a delicate piano at the end of a rising phrase (an instance, one of many: up to the G-sharp on “Vielleicht noch diese Nacht,” to Elemer in their Act 1 scene), and able to make clean attacks on Strauss’s difficult higher-range phrases that begin on a quick upbeat with words like “und” and “immer.” It’s a charming and touching performance. Her partner in that first-act scene is the best of all possible Elemers, Julius Patzak, superior even to Völker in his unerring precision of both voice and interpretive inflection. Elemer’s rival/conspirators, Josef Witt as Dominik and Alfred Poell as Lamoral—true character singers—give us in sharp relief the differentiation I was missing in the Met performance. ^(I) Horst Taubmann is again on hand as Matteo, still sounding well, still likably eager with his over-the-top Werther act, and Rosette Anday, a real mezzo and seasoned character artist, gives Adelaide much of the stature the creators meant her to have. The bass Georg Hann has all the equipment for a superior Waldner, but to my ear overdoes (or, we could say, underdoes, in the sense of abandoning singing for speaking) the composer’s dangerous indications for the repetitions of “Teschek, bedien dich“—now “copying Mandryka’s tone,” now “softly and sweetly,” then “majestically,” etc. It’s what I meant by “shtick.” Of course, it’s possible that it worked in the house.