I thought this message posted on the Moderated Classical Music List
might be of interest. I hope the description of Celi's MPO period isn't
an accurate reflection of DG's opinion.
(Celi mention is bolded)
Date: Sat, 13 Feb 1999 14:56:01 +0100
Reply-To: Moderated Classical Music List
<CLASSICAL at HOME.EASE.LSOFT.COM>
Sender: Moderated Classical Music List
<classical at home.ease.lsoft.com>
From: "John G. Deacon" <j.deacon at ctv.es>
Subject: Raiders of the Lost Tapes
This fascinating, albeit rather long, article appeared in the London
Financial Times this morning. I think it is of interest to the List.
Raiders of the lost tapes
Record labels are cashing in on archive material that will create a
collector's paradise, says Andrew Clark.
When Michael Fine, vice-president of Deutsche Grammophon, visits La
Scala, Milan, next week, he will not be applauding the singers on
stage. Instead, he wants to lock himself in a back room, and listen
to voices from the past.
Since the war, unknown to the outside world, La Scala has been taping
performances which now represent a legendary era. Deutsche
Grammophon
has bought the rights to sell these recordings commercially. Their
importance lies not just in capturing artists like Callas, Corelli
and Tebaldi at the height of their powers, but in providing a record
of unrepeatable events, such as Carlos Kleiber conducting Otello.
Fine admits he is salivating at the prospect, and says record
collectors
are likely to react the same way. The success of the project hinges
on the quality of La Scala's tapes and the thorny business of
negotiating royalties.
While Fine buries himself in La Scala's past, another DG executive,
Christian Gansch, will be scouring European radio stations for tapes
featuring Sergiu Celibidache. The great Romanian conductor, who died
in 1996, scorned the recording process but gave a series of
electrifying
concerts with radio orchestras in the 1960s and 1970s. DG believes
these provide a more truthful record of Celibidache's art than the
CDs recently released by EMI, which capture him in his dotage with
the Munich Philharmonic.
If you combine these two projects with DG's 63-CD centenary edition,
you could be forgiven for thinking "the yellow label" had overdosed
on nostalgia. In fact, most record companies are doing the same.
This was, after all, the century of the gramophone. It's only
natural
that the music industry should indulge in some fin-de-siecle
stock-taking.
Behind the nostalgia lies an unavoidable commercial logic. Until
recently, record companies had little incentive to focus on
performers
of the past - with a few obvious exceptions like Callas. This is no
longer the case. What is new is that:
Thanks to the saturation of the CD market, dinosaurs of the classical
record industry like DG and Sony no longer view new recordings as a
long-term investment. Unlike the past, when big-sellers helped to
subsidise slow-burners, every new CD now has to pay its way. The
market for new recordings is likely to remain stagnant until someone
invents another Three Tenors phenomenon or a replacement for CD
technology. In the meantime, record companies are trying to unlock
the value of their back catalogue.
There is mounting recognition that technical improvements in
performance
and recording over the past 50 years have coincided with a decline
in the depth of musical interpretation. Today's performances lack
the psycho-emotional force generated by artists of previous
generations,
who were closer to the world of the great classical composers.
Radio stations and music organisations have begun to realise the
commercial potential of their archives, which are full of ready-made
tapes of legendary performers. Some, like the BBC and New York
Philharmonic, have set up their own record labels. This coincides
with a shift in the taste of record-buyers towards live recordings,
which have more spontaneity and atmosphere than studio performances.
The sound quality of material falling out of copyright has become
extremely acceptable, as it catches up with the early LP era. With
the help of modern technology, small independent labels can
shamelessly
exploit this, by poaching the established labels' most valuable
treasures. Meanwhile, the entry of the budget Naxos label into the
"historical" market, using non-copyright broadcast recordings, has
exposed a wider public to the style and importance of great
interpreters
of the past.
Raiding the past, for unpublished tapes or a repackaged back
catalogue,
has become big business. In the five years since Philips launched
its Duo label, it has sold 10 million CDs. The New York
Philharmonic's
"historic broadcast" series has notched up 50,000 CDs in a mere 18
months, and its handsomely documented Mahler edition is likely to do
even better. To record an opera in the studio today, a record
company
would expect to invest at least 100,000. If it buys tapes from a
radio station or private source, the outlay can be as little as
20,000.
All this has created a collector's paradise. If you are a Karajan
fan, you can now listen to his Tannhauser, the one Wagner opera he
never recorded commercially. If Barbirolli was your preferred Mahler
conductor, you can thank the BBC for publishing his broadcast
performance of the Third Symphony. Some artists always performed
better "live" than in the studio - which explains the market for
pirate recordings of Knappertsbusch at Bayreuth.
In the scramble for archive material, record companies have unearthed
studio recordings by reputable artists which were never published.
One such treasure is Clifford Curzon's performances of Mozart piano
concertos 26 and 27, to be released next month as part of Philips's
"Great Pianists of the 20th Century". If a record company cannot
justify the investment needed to clean up old tapes, it can always
let others do so under licence: vintage EMI recordings of Beecham
and Kempe have appeared on the Testament label, produced by some of
EMI's own staff unencumbered by their employer's overheads.
Even if you fight shy of the pre-stereo era, standards in the 1960s
were so good that you are frequently better-off with a cheap reissue
than a new CD at full price. DG's latest Rigoletto, for example,
hardly matches the Decca recording made by Joan Sutherland in her
prime, now available at mid-price. And could any studio recording
match the frisson of Karajan's live Boheme from the Vienna State
Opera, taped by Austrian Radio in 1963 and now issued by BMG? The
market has become more sophisticated: people want multiple versions
of their favourite repertoire, and emotional truthfulness is
overtaking
technical perfection in record-buyers' priorities.
Not everyone believes the current flood of historical issues is a
good thing. Some critics say it only dilutes sales of the existing
catalogue, ruining the market for new releases. Others argue that
no matter how legendary the performance, the sound is sometimes so
poor as to discourage repeated listening.
There is also some debate about what qualifies as "historic" or
"legendary". Many labels try to bestow classic status on
performances
which are neither venerable nor rare. In the BBC Legends series,
for example, there seems to be no compelling reason for including
Constantin Silvestri's studio performance of Tchaikovsky's Manfred,
especially when another Silvestri recording of the symphony is
available. And it's hard to get excited about any new CD featuring
Furtwangler or Sviatoslav Richter, because you can be sure the
material
has been issued before.
That raises the problem of authenticating old tapes: in the absence
of recording schedules, no one can be certain a "live" performance
is what the label says it is. Eight years ago, EMI issued a Beecham
Tristan from Covent Garden in 1936; it later had to admit that part
of the recording came from a 1937 performance with a different
conductor. BBC Legends says it is drawing on private collectors'
tapes to fill important gaps in the BBC's archives - but how can it
be sure the collectors didn't get their notes muddled?
Some sharks, especially the fly-by-night Italian labels, will slap
anything on the cover. The market is swimming in recordings of
identical performances, often with conflicting information about
repertoire, venue and date. That's why the consumer stands to
benefit
from the involvement of well-established companies. Labels like DG
and EMI have the resources to select and clean up the best material,
pay for the rights and distribute widely - narrowing the market for
"bootleg" performances. They are all too aware that copyright will
soon lapse on their golden era: better to make money from it now,
and serve it up properly, than give open season to pirate labels.
It's tempting to deduce from all this that we are looking to the past
to
compensate for an artistically barren present. What we must remember
is
that there are far more performances today than 40 years ago, and the
CD
era has vastly expanded the recorded repertoire. When we listen to
legends of the past, we are hearing a filtered version of musical
life
in their day. The also-rans have not survived.
Most record companies admit they were spoilt by the CD boom. It led
to massive overproduction. The new interest in "historical" issues
is helping the industry to consolidate. Who knows whether or not
today's stars will graduate into tomorrow's legends? Listening to
the latest CDs of Gergiev, Kissin and Terfel, there is more than a
grain of hope.
John G. Deacon
--------------154616B309DE80402D7110CA
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Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional//EN">
I thought this message posted on the Moderated Classical Music List
might be of interest. I hope the description of Celi's MPO period isn't
an accurate reflection of DG's opinion.
(Celi mention is bolded)
Date: Sat, 13 Feb 1999
14:56:01 +0100
Reply-To: Moderated Classical Music List <CLASSICAL at HOME.EASE.LSOFT.COM>
Sender: Moderated Classical Music
List <classical at home.ease.lsoft.com>
From: "John G. Deacon"
<j.deacon at ctv.es>
Subject: Raiders of the Lost Tapes
This fascinating, albeit rather long, article appeared in the London
Financial Times this morning. I think it is of interest to the
List.
Raiders of the lost tapes
Record labels are cashing in on archive material that will
create a
collector's paradise, says Andrew Clark.
When Michael Fine, vice-president of Deutsche Grammophon,
visits La
Scala, Milan, next week, he will not be applauding the
singers on
stage. Instead, he wants to lock himself in a back
room, and listen
to voices from the past.
Since the war, unknown to the outside world, La Scala has
been taping
performances which now represent a legendary era.
Deutsche Grammophon
has bought the rights to sell these recordings commercially.
Their
importance lies not just in capturing artists like Callas,
Corelli
and Tebaldi at the height of their powers, but in providing
a record
of unrepeatable events, such as Carlos Kleiber conducting
Otello.
Fine admits he is salivating at the prospect, and says
record collectors
are likely to react the same way. The success of
the project hinges
on the quality of La Scala's tapes and the thorny business
of
negotiating royalties.
While Fine buries himself in La Scala's past, another
DG executive,
Christian Gansch, will be scouring European radio stations
for tapes
featuring Sergiu Celibidache. The great Romanian
conductor, who died
in 1996, scorned the recording process but gave a series
of electrifying
concerts with radio orchestras in the 1960s and 1970s.
DG believes
these provide a more truthful record of Celibidache's
art than the
CDs recently released by EMI, which capture him in
his dotage with
the Munich Philharmonic.
If you combine these two projects with DG's 63-CD centenary
edition,
you could be forgiven for thinking "the yellow label"
had overdosed
on nostalgia. In fact, most record companies are
doing the same.
This was, after all, the century of the gramophone.
It's only natural
that the music industry should indulge in some fin-de-siecle
stock-taking.
Behind the nostalgia lies an unavoidable commercial logic.
Until
recently, record companies had little incentive to focus
on performers
of the past - with a few obvious exceptions like Callas.
This is no
longer the case. What is new is that:
Thanks to the saturation of the CD market, dinosaurs of
the classical
record industry like DG and Sony no longer view new recordings
as a
long-term investment. Unlike the past, when big-sellers
helped to
subsidise slow-burners, every new CD now has to pay its
way. The
market for new recordings is likely to remain stagnant
until someone
invents another Three Tenors phenomenon or a replacement
for CD
technology. In the meantime, record companies are
trying to unlock
the value of their back catalogue.
There is mounting recognition that technical improvements
in performance
and recording over the past 50 years have coincided with
a decline
in the depth of musical interpretation. Today's
performances lack
the psycho-emotional force generated by artists of previous
generations,
who were closer to the world of the great classical composers.
Radio stations and music organisations have begun to realise
the
commercial potential of their archives, which are full
of ready-made
tapes of legendary performers. Some, like the BBC
and New York
Philharmonic, have set up their own record labels.
This coincides
with a shift in the taste of record-buyers towards live
recordings,
which have more spontaneity and atmosphere than studio
performances.
The sound quality of material falling out of copyright
has become
extremely acceptable, as it catches up with the early
LP era. With
the help of modern technology, small independent labels
can shamelessly
exploit this, by poaching the established labels' most
valuable
treasures. Meanwhile, the entry of the budget Naxos
label into the
"historical" market, using non-copyright broadcast recordings,
has
exposed a wider public to the style and importance of
great interpreters
of the past.
Raiding the past, for unpublished tapes or a repackaged
back catalogue,
has become big business. In the five years since
Philips launched
its Duo label, it has sold 10 million CDs. The New
York Philharmonic's
"historic broadcast" series has notched up 50,000 CDs
in a mere 18
months, and its handsomely documented Mahler edition is
likely to do
even better. To record an opera in the studio today,
a record company
would expect to invest at least 100,000. If it buys
tapes from a
radio station or private source, the outlay can be as
little as
20,000.
All this has created a collector's paradise. If you
are a Karajan
fan, you can now listen to his Tannhauser, the one Wagner
opera he
never recorded commercially. If Barbirolli was your
preferred Mahler
conductor, you can thank the BBC for publishing his broadcast
performance of the Third Symphony. Some artists
always performed
better "live" than in the studio - which explains the
market for
pirate recordings of Knappertsbusch at Bayreuth.
In the scramble for archive material, record companies
have unearthed
studio recordings by reputable artists which were never
published.
One such treasure is Clifford Curzon's performances of
Mozart piano
concertos 26 and 27, to be released next month as part
of Philips's
"Great Pianists of the 20th Century". If a record
company cannot
justify the investment needed to clean up old tapes, it
can always
let others do so under licence: vintage EMI recordings
of Beecham
and Kempe have appeared on the Testament label, produced
by some of
EMI's own staff unencumbered by their employer's overheads.
Even if you fight shy of the pre-stereo era, standards
in the 1960s
were so good that you are frequently better-off with a
cheap reissue
than a new CD at full price. DG's latest Rigoletto,
for example,
hardly matches the Decca recording made by Joan Sutherland
in her
prime, now available at mid-price. And could any
studio recording
match the frisson of Karajan's live Boheme from the Vienna
State
Opera, taped by Austrian Radio in 1963 and now issued
by BMG? The
market has become more sophisticated: people want multiple
versions
of their favourite repertoire, and emotional truthfulness
is overtaking
technical perfection in record-buyers' priorities.
Not everyone believes the current flood of historical issues
is a
good thing. Some critics say it only dilutes sales
of the existing
catalogue, ruining the market for new releases.
Others argue that
no matter how legendary the performance, the sound is
sometimes so
poor as to discourage repeated listening.
There is also some debate about what qualifies as "historic"
or
"legendary". Many labels try to bestow classic status
on performances
which are neither venerable nor rare. In the BBC
Legends series,
for example, there seems to be no compelling reason for
including
Constantin Silvestri's studio performance of Tchaikovsky's
Manfred,
especially when another Silvestri recording of the symphony
is
available. And it's hard to get excited about any
new CD featuring
Furtwangler or Sviatoslav Richter, because you can be
sure the material
has been issued before.
That raises the problem of authenticating old tapes: in
the absence
of recording schedules, no one can be certain a "live"
performance
is what the label says it is. Eight years ago, EMI
issued a Beecham
Tristan from Covent Garden in 1936; it later had to admit
that part
of the recording came from a 1937 performance with a different
conductor. BBC Legends says it is drawing on private
collectors'
tapes to fill important gaps in the BBC's archives - but
how can it
be sure the collectors didn't get their notes muddled?
Some sharks, especially the fly-by-night Italian labels,
will slap
anything on the cover. The market is swimming in
recordings of
identical performances, often with conflicting information
about
repertoire, venue and date. That's why the consumer
stands to benefit
from the involvement of well-established companies.
Labels like DG
and EMI have the resources to select and clean up the
best material,
pay for the rights and distribute widely - narrowing the
market for
"bootleg" performances. They are all too aware that
copyright will
soon lapse on their golden era: better to make money from
it now,
and serve it up properly, than give open season to pirate
labels.
It's tempting to deduce from all this that we are looking
to the past to
compensate for an artistically barren present. What
we must remember is
that there are far more performances today than 40 years
ago, and the CD
era has vastly expanded the recorded repertoire.
When we listen to
legends of the past, we are hearing a filtered version
of musical life
in their day. The also-rans have not survived.
Most record companies admit they were spoilt by the CD
boom. It led
to massive overproduction. The new interest in "historical"
issues
is helping the industry to consolidate. Who knows
whether or not
today's stars will graduate into tomorrow's legends? Listening
to
the latest CDs of Gergiev, Kissin and Terfel, there is
more than a
grain of hope.
John G. Deacon
--------------154616B309DE80402D7110CA--