In some circles,
Max von Schillings is remembered most as a virulent Nazi who, upon being named to the Prussian Academy of the Arts in 1933, dutifully expunged the Jewish "degenerate artists" on its staff -- Arnold Schoenberg, Käthe Kollwitz, Franz Werfel, and Heinrich Mann among them. Franz Schreker was so rattled by the probe into possible past Jewish family history touched off by his dismissal that in March 1934 he dropped dead of a heart attack. By that time,
Schillings himself had already been dead for eight months -- the elevation of his status by the Nazis and his willing complicity to do their bidding belongs to the last year of his life. The remainder of that life was distinguished by his commitment as conductor to the more conservative contemporary music of his time --
Strauss,
Pfitzner, Busoni, and even Schreker himself.
Schillings' own works, though still strongly post-Romantic in style, were likewise considered innovative and fresh in their own time, such as the monodrama Das Hexenlied and the opera Mona Lisa. While those close to
Schillings in his last years noted an inexplicable change in his general demeanor, one would be hard pressed to believe that, faced with the harsh judgment of posterity,
Schillings might not have embraced a second chance to right himself with history. Certainly, he would never live to know of the horrors that the Third Reich would bring with it.
None of us, unfortunately, are able to go back and right wrongs we might perpetrate in the course of our lives, and many who would even know who
Max von Schillings was would regard Preiser's album Max von Schillings dirigiert Wagner, 2. Folge as "toxic" without even listening to it. This is a pity, as musically this is about as good as Wagner gets in the period of early electrical recording,
Karl Muck's 1927 output at Bayreuth notwithstanding.
Schillings' recordings of Wagner were very popular in their day, as his sense of pacing is electrical in itself and the orchestral parts are unusually clear despite the restricted sonic palette of the German Parlophon recordings. His horn sections are usually in tune, and while there is considerable old-fashioned use of portamenti in the string section, it never gets soupy as it does on, say,
Edward Elgar's orchestral recordings.
These are recordings made of bleeding chunks taken from Tannhäuser, Tristan und Isolde, Die Meistersinger, and Götterdämmerung, recorded between 1927 and 1929. Preiser's copies of these records are very clean and relatively free of hiss, a miracle in itself as so many copies of these records were blown to bits in World War II. Best of all is the interpretive style employed, which observes a very wide range of moods -- the "Bacchanale" from Tannhäuser is taken at a hair-raising tempo, whereas the Prelude to Act III of Tristan is carefully drawn out and understated; the "Johannisnacht" from Die Meistersinger is appropriately loose and rustic. This is unrestrained, unapologetic Wagner from an era where he was neither a sacred cow or a guilty pleasure, performed by a conductor who almost seems to be viewing the on-stage action unfold in his mind whilst making these studio recordings. For those who are interested in prewar traditions in Wagner performance, Max von Schillings dirigiert Wagner, 2. Folge will be hard to put down; for some others, though, it might as well be on the dark side of the moon. Liner notes are in German only.