Von Karajan devotes energy to youth

Press, 9 March 1984, Page 17

Von Karajan devotes energy to youth

by

ALAN FRANCIS

At 75 years of age you could hardly call Herbert von Karajan one of the rising tide of conductors, yet all his energy is channelled into youth, his own spirit is ever young, and his devotion to the Berlin Philharmonic is centred on a striving for the best of both worlds — the vigour of youth tempered with the experience of age. His personal history since his first encounter with the Berlin orchestra in 1937 has been a singleminded drive for perfection and bis formula for achieving that has always been clearly defined. Karajan is not an amiable conductor, few of the lovable qualities of Bruno Walter or Nikisch are part of his make-up; yet he respects those men for what they were and their achievements.

Karajan could be more aptly described as one of the last of the tyrants, a race which included Toscanini and Beecham. But where Karajan differs so radically from other taskmasters is that he possesses a selfless quality which shows itself in tie fostering of talent in others. *

No-one who works for Karajan would lump him in with one of the

“untouchables” such as Toscanini, who could rage like a tiger on the slightest pretext. The German conductor sees his contract with the Berlin orchestra as a lifetime marriage; he is not prepared to give his all, and then to be tossed aside at the whim of fickle management.

Quite rightly, he put himself in total control for his lifetime after the war, when Furtwangler died, and Karajan assumed leadership of the aged body of musicians who had survived the most difficult period in their history. The new conductor turned the orchestra upside down.

In keeping with his policy, he replaced most of the older players with musicians no older than 25, “A lower limit we don’t have,” he said. Amongst the shining young stars who emerged under Karajan’s benevolence is Anne Sophie Mutter, one who has taken the musical world by storm and given astonishing proof of the conductor’s service to youthful talent The Karajan Foundation cffers a valuable service to conductors and musicians alike. To those who still persist in recalling his Nazi associ-

ations, Karajan claims to be into Buddhism, yoga and computers — not one of which suggests the horrific ideals of National Socialism.

Karajan may be accused of being uncompromisingly rigid — even ruthless, yet his contribution to music is immense. When the final outcome is evaluated he will undoubtedly rank amongst the greatest ever. At 75, he is scoring heavily over those many years his junior and perhaps commanding greater attention. Last year, he won the Gramophone Award with his Mahler 9; this year with Richard Strauss’ Tod und Verklarung. His 1960 Mozart 29 was, and still is out of this world; there is nothing to touch the ethereal charm of the Berlin strings nor the supreme craftsmanship of the conductor. It will stand forever. But his Beethoven is another matter. Despite his own claims, his performances of the' Beethoven Symphonies appear perfunctory and lacking conviction.

There is an underlying air of impatience, his Pastoral is just that much faster with each playing. As one repeat succeeds the other, the uneasy feeling of parody lingers with the listener. Karajan is never backward about repeats with any composer. His Bruckner and Sibelius are now legendary, those big statements are perfectly shaped and as impressive as any rival versions. Bach, he measures by his own heartbeat, so that if he is on a plateau his carefully tuned mechanism fails him. Thus, we come back to the computer. With the advent of the compact disc he is one of the controversial few, including gramophone reviewers, who back the medium without reservation. One is left though, with the niggling doubt of what might happen to the quality of those Berlin strings if the hardened sound of the computer is left to its own resources.

Mahler took a long time to come. It too, was another milestone for Karajan, for here he had a contro-

versial nut to crack once again, another challenge to his mastery of the unorthodox.

That he timed his personal success to perfection is marked by those who voted his recorded version of the 9th Symphony as top orchestral disc of 1982. His favourite is the 6th.

It is interesting to note some of his comments to Richard Osbourne in 1978: “I looked for help and never found it. You see, the people were so remote, like gods. I never approached them. I was 45 before I approached Toscanini — and he attacked me for doing Pelleas in French. He said, I see the time coming when in La Scala, Il Trovatore will be sung in German. We laughed, but it was true — there was no help.” This lack of assistance for young musicians at that time may have sparked off his campaign as champion of the young and talented. His own debut in Ulm in 1928 marked the beginning of a long career in which he has never spared himself in<- the pursuit of excellence in hifaself and others.

A glance through the catalogue will show his many repeated per-

formances, several Beethoven cycles and many return visits to II Trovatore. The reason? “Fear, love, hate . . . that fascinates me. And there isn’t a dull moment in the whole piece.”

His encores of other works are not always so successful, his hasty tempos suggest a certain shallowness, while his “big band” treatment of delicate pieces are interpreted as musical flatulence by some.

On being asked whether he would ever return to opera, Karajan was adamant that after he left Vienna in 1964 he would never head an opera house again. Recordings certainly, but his life is now completely devoted to the Berlin Philharmonic and the championing of new talent.

His former associations with Walter Legge and the Philharmonia Orchestra are now legendary. Karajan may not be everyone’s ideal; his interpretations may not hold universal charm; but no-one would deny him those unsurpassable of sheer brilkance and w is those, plus his generosity, for which he will be remembered when the link is finally severed.