C2004. HERBERT von KARAJAN Cond. Berlin Phil.: Sinfonia in b, RV 169 (Vivaldi); Le Sacre du Printemps (Stravinsky); w.CHRISTIAN FERRAS: Violin Concerto in d (Sibelius). (Canada) St Laurent Studio YSL T-1348, Live Performance, 25 Sept., 1971. Transfers by Yves St Laurent.
“Christian Ferras was a French violinist who, at the age of 10, won the first prize of the Nice Conservatory and won the first prize of the Paris Conservatory in 1946, where he studied with Rene Benedetti and Joseph Calvet. He started an international career with leading orchestras and conductors, notably recording the romantic concertos of Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Sibelius and others with Herbert von Karajan. Since the recent retirement of Zino Francescatti, he was considered France's leading concert violinist.
Mr. Ferras, who made his New York debut in 1959 when he was 25, won consistently high praise for his musicianship. Howard Taubman, music critic of THE NEW YORK TIMES, wrote that Mr. Ferras was 'uncommonly gifted’ and that his playing had ‘fire and brilliance’. Over the years, the violinist appeared on the concert stage as soloist with the New York Philharmonic, Boston Symphony, Minneapolis Symphony and other leading orchestras. His grasp of the violin repertory, and in particular the works of Bach, Brahms and Mendelssohn, was enhanced by what Mr. Taubman called ‘a texture and muscularity that reflects the Gallic style’ of playing the instrument.”
- THE NEW YORK TIMES, 16 Sept., 1982
“Small of stature but sumptuous of tone, Christian Ferras represented the best of the Franco-Belgian violin school. Of his two main teachers, René Benedetti inculcated a respect for technique and George Enescu broadened his outlook - he was to command a much wider repertoire than most French violinists of his era. In the 1960s he was the favoured violin soloist of Herbert von Karajan and their recordings together sold by the thousand. Unfortunately the illness that was to lead to his death often kept Ferras away from the concert hall. But today his reputation continues to grow, as his records are discovered by a fresh audience.”
“Unwittingly [Karajan] had filled the void left by the death of Hitler in that part of the German psyche which craves for a leader. He was unpredictable, ruthless and outspoken. Nobody - at any rate nobody in Austria - ever questioned Karajan's right to do exactly what he wanted. He moved everywhere with a circle of sycophants, who tried to justify their existence by speaking for him whenever possible, and I had to make it clear right away that I could not function at one remove from the conductor. As always, the direct approach worked. I don't think Karajan ever understood how much of his troubles were due to the people he allowed to surround him. Such petty issues often distorted one's view of Karajan the musician."
- John Culshaw, manager of classical recording for Decca, 1967-75
“No one would deny von Karajan’s position in the topmost ranks of 20th-century conductors. Inspired to conduct at the age of 20 when he heard Arturo Toscanini in Vienna, and Wilhelm Furtwängler's great rival from the early 1940s until the older maestro's death in 1954, Mr. Karajan once said that he had attempted to combine ‘Toscanini's precision with Furtwängler's fantasy’. But Mr. Karajan was always more than a mere conductor: he was a man of enormous energy and careerist determination, and he managed at his peak, in the late 1950s and early ‘60s, to tower over European musical life as no one had done before or is likely to do again. His nickname at the time was 'the general music director of Europe’, leading the Berlin Philharmonic, La Scala in Milan, London's Philharmonia Orchestra, the Vienna State Opera and the Salzburg Festival.
Mr. Karajan's life was hardly untouched by controversy. His membership in the Nazi party from 1933, his lack of overt repentance for his thriving career during the Nazi years and his imperious personality made him many enemies. While he was always deeply respected as a conductor, some critics found his music-making increasingly slick and overrefined in his last decades. And his final years were clouded by a series of bitter battles with the Berlin Philharmonic, the West Berlin ensemble whose 'conductor for life' he became in 1955. He abruptly resigned his Berlin post in April, 1989, citing ill health.
Yet for all the tales of arrogance and self-indulgence, Mr. Karajan remained a masterly conductor, with a grasp of the standard orchestral and operatic repertory from Mozart through Schönberg that was unsurpassed among his peers. Always a champion of Mozart, Beethoven - whose symphony cycle he recorded three times - Wagner and Bruckner, he gradually extended his grasp to include Mahler and even Schönberg. He was also a lifelong admirer of Italian opera and, contrary to his domineering image, a champion of young talent, from the American soprano Leontyne Price to the Soviet pianist Yevgeny Kissin.
When critics complained that his performances in his later years had grown overrefined, he replied that 'if the details are right, the performance will work’. And to the very end, he drew playing of the utmost tonal beauty from his orchestras. The Berlin Philharmonic is widely regarded as the world's pre-eminent orchestra, if any one ensemble can stake that claim. And his performances at Carnegie Hall with the Vienna Philharmonic drew almost astonished enthusiasm from veteran observers for their sonic sumptuousness, even if not all the critics praised the musical results.
'The Karajan industry bears about the same relation to postwar European music that Krupp bore to prewar European steel production’, wrote Martin Mayer in THE NEW YORK TIMES MAGAZINE in 1967. The classic, if perhaps apocryphal, Karajan anecdote had the conductor leaping into a taxi and, when asked his destination, replying: 'No matter. I am in demand everywhere’. Yet the conductor also had a spiritual side, and was a 40-year student of yoga and Zen Buddhism. He believed in reincarnation, and once dreamed of being reborn as an eagle, soaring above his beloved Alps.
Fascinated by technical innovations, he once contemplated being frozen for 15 years so that he could re-record the standard repertory in the latest video and audio technology.”
- John Rockwell, THE NEW YORK TIMES, 17 July, 1989