Benny Goodman

That Thursday in Freiburg back in October 1959 remains an intoxicating experience. A tight and sprightly band in top swinging form, the elegant tones of Benny Goodman’s clarinet and the sensational Anita O’Day. O’Day’s sensuality and mellow phrasing in Fats Waller’s impudent “Honeysuckle Rose” and Earl Bostic’s somewhat frivolous, leisurely version of “Let Me Off Uptown” make these sets spark and crackle with energy even 50 years on. The recordings reveal the warmth and enthusiasm with which the King of Swing was received on his tour of Germany. The tumultuous applause was merely a foretaste of the liberating effect that rock’n’roll was about to unleash – a new genre which before long would steal the limelight from those in the jazz world who had made it possible. Goodman’s orchestra, effectively a band of bandleaders, showcases one of the fi nest line-ups of the post-war era and underpins the evening’s success with solos that are sharp and savoured to the full. Almost a generation separated Jack Sheldon and Jerry Dodgion from Goodman and the idiosyncratic Red Norvo, but the ensemble-playing is superb. A real highlight is the medley based on “Not For Me” featuring the scatting O’Day.

These American Columbia recordings have been mastered from the original metals and lacquers and offer some amazing sound quality for recordings from 1940-1942. The contrast between Toscanini and Barbirolli was symbolic of the contrast between two generations of conductors and the altering role of conductors.

Toscanini was the supreme autocrat of the old school, ruling by terror, insult, tantrums and his own daemonic drive. Barbirolli, over thirty years younger, was the benevolent autocrat, more democratic, ruling through comradeship with his players, inviting them and the audience to share his own delight in music. The contrast in their philosophy was reflected in their interpretations: Toscanini inspired awe for the music he conducted; Barbirolli inspired love and affection.

Their different approaches are crystallized in their respective recordings of Verdi’s Otello and Requiem: the older man relentless, electric, dramatic in the extreme, incomparably exciting; the younger broader, with more humanity, many felicitous touches of detail, and caressing the phrases like a lover. Both are valid interpretations, both are true to the spirit of the music; both reveal different aspects of Verdi’s and of their own genius. It is overlooked that Barbirolli not only succeeded Toscanini in New York: that would have soon been accomplished, a nine-day wonder. For seven years he conducted almost alongside him, the one in Carnegie hall, the other in the NBC studio. Of course, Barbirolli was not then the great conductor he was to become, for most conductors improve with age, but recordings (commercial and off-air) show that he was very good and that the orchestra had a rich and sensitive sound.

(He himself confessed in his last years that he ‘sometimes smiled’ at the recollection of his younger interpretations; he constantly re-studied even the most familiar symphonies.)