1908年，清朝還沒滅亡，拉赫《升C小調前奏曲》世界首次錄音：威廉·巴克豪斯(Wilhelm Backhaus,1884-1969)
古殿殿主
1908年9月29日。清光緒三十四年，距離清朝滅亡還有三年，距離中華民國成立還有三年，台灣被割讓給日本才剛過去13年。
那一天，在倫敦一間錄音室裡，一個24歲的德國年輕人第一次坐在一隻巨大號角前面。
沒有麥克風。無法剪輯。無法重來。
那隻巨大號角，就是1908年人類保存聲音的全部技術。
他那天錄下的第一首曲子，是一首連作曲家本人都還沒有錄過的作品。
那個作曲家叫拉赫曼尼諾夫(Sergei Rachmaninoff,1873-1943)。那首曲子叫《升C小調前奏曲》。
你也許聽過這首曲子。它有另一個名字：《莫斯科鐘聲》。開頭那三個沉重的和弦，像是什麼巨大的東西即將降臨。拉赫曼尼諾夫19歲時寫的，一夜之間紅遍歐洲，此後40年，他每次開音樂會，觀眾都在底下大喊「升C！」逼他把這首曲子當安可。他後來說：「我非常非常希望自己從未寫過它。」
原本這首曲子在世界上只存在於樂譜和人的記憶裡。
直到1908年在倫敦的錄音室裡，那個24歲的德國年輕人，把它刻進了蠟盤。
這是這首曲子在人類歷史上的第一次錄音。比拉赫曼尼諾夫自己錄音，早了整整11年。
那個年輕人叫威廉·巴克豪斯(Wilhelm Backhaus,1884-1969)，1884年生於德國萊比錫。
三年前，他剛在巴黎贏得安東·魯賓斯坦大獎。那場比賽的第二名是貝拉·巴爾托克(Bela Bartok,1881-1945)——那個後來改變了整個20世紀音樂面貌的人，那年輸給了他。
但在1908年那天，巴克豪斯還不是後來被稱為「20世紀最偉大貝多芬詮釋者」的老大師。那時他只是一個充滿野性、速度極快的年輕人，不知道自己正在創造歷史。
號角錄音能捕捉的頻率極其有限(當時的錄音系統頻率範圍被極度限制在 100 至 2500 Hz 之間)。鋼琴是當時最難被錄製的樂器之一——它的音域橫跨整個頻譜，低音渾厚、高音晶亮，恰恰是這套原始系統最難處理的。他必須用盡全力敲擊琴鍵，讓聲音穿過號角刻進旋轉的蠟盤，沒有任何容錯的空間。
這個物理過程，就是1908年人類保存聲音的全部方式。
當年這可是最新、最先進的科技！
那天的錄音，只是開始。
接下來幾個月，巴克豪斯繼續在號角前留下一個又一個「人類第一次」：
葛利格鋼琴協奏曲——史上第一次有人把鋼琴協奏曲刻進蟲膠。
巴哈《平均律》C♯大調前奏曲與賦格——人類有史以來第一次錄下巴哈的鍵盤音樂。
20年後，1928年，他又完成了蕭邦48首練習曲全集的史上第一次完整錄音——在那之前，沒有任何人做到過。
一個人的一生，可以在歷史上留下多少個「第一次」？
巴克豪斯後來繼續演奏，繼續錄音，直到1969年。他在奧地利的一個夏日音樂節上完成了最後一場音樂會——曲目是貝多芬的《華德斯坦奏鳴曲》。七天後，他辭世，享年85歲。
從1908年那隻倫敦的巨大金屬號角，到1969年奧地利的夏夜音樂廳，整整61年。人類的錄音技術從蠟盤變成了立體聲磁帶，而他始終在場。
這批1908至1909年間錄製的原版蟲膠唱片，現在在「古殿」。
這不是復刻版，不是數位轉錄，不是串流平台上那個經過修復處理的音檔。是那批當年從倫敦發行、流傳至今的原版蟲膠本身，歷史文物等級。
在台灣，你大概只能在「古殿」看到這批唱片。
不是「很少見」，是「幾乎不存在」。1908年的倫敦原版發行，118年過去，能完整保存至今的本來就極少，流傳到台灣的更是鳳毛麟角。
這批唱片不是買來的，是找來的。
準確說，是用十幾年以上的時間、每一天的持續投入換來的——不只是金錢，是精神，是時間，是某種近乎執念的熱情與毅力。有時候有錢也買不到，因為這種東西需要緣分，需要在對的時間出現在對的地方，需要十幾年的眼力與積累才能辨認出它的價值。
而且即使付出了這一切，也只是「有可能」得到。不是一定。
所以或許也可以說，是「歷史」自己找上門來的。
118年前的聲音，到底是什麼聲音？
YouTube上有數位化的版本。但數位版本是現代的重新詮釋——經過轉錄、修復、壓縮，是工程師對那個聲音的翻譯。古殿當晚播放的是原版實體蟲膠本身，那個聲音裡有118年的真實物理時間，有當年號角錄音特有的頻率質地，有蟲膠溝槽本身承載的東西。
這兩件事，不是同一件事。
那是一種只能親身在現場聽到、體驗到才能知道的感覺。
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【古殿歷史名曲音樂喫茶 第44場】巴克豪斯（Wilhelm Backhaus, 1884–1969）人生最早的錄音 1908-1909
📅 2026年5月1日（週五）19:30–21:00 📍 古殿樂藏｜台北市北投區西安街一段169號2樓 💰 600元（含精緻咖啡飲品） 🪑 僅限10位｜請填表單報名（表單在留言中）
古殿歷史名曲音樂喫茶，是台灣目前唯一固定舉辦此類深度歷史聆聽活動的空間。
那個1908年在倫敦面對號角的年輕人，不知道自己的聲音會在118年後，被一群台灣人圍坐聆聽。你現在能聽到的，和你死後還留得下來的，是同一件事嗎？
歡迎參與見證這個歷史時刻！
👉 立即預約您的時空席位 (需匯款確認)：
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1908: Before the Fall of the Qing Dynasty, the World’s First Recording of Rachmaninoff’s "Prelude in C-sharp Minor" by Wilhelm Backhaus (1884–1969)
September 29, 1908. It was the 34th year of the Guangxu Emperor. The Qing Dynasty had three years left before its fall; the Republic of China was three years away from being born; and it had been only 13 years since Taiwan was ceded to Japan.
On that day, in a London recording studio, a 24-year-old German youth sat for the first time before a massive, gaping horn.
There were no microphones. No editing. No second chances.
That giant horn represented the pinnacle of human sound preservation technology in 1908.
The first piece he recorded that day was a work that even the composer himself had not yet put to disc. The composer was Sergei Rachmaninoff (1873–1943). The piece was the "Prelude in C-sharp Minor."
You might have heard this piece before. It carries another name: "The Bells of Moscow." Those three heavy opening chords feel as though something monumental is about to descend. Rachmaninoff wrote it when he was only 19, and it became an overnight sensation across Europe. For the next 40 years, at every concert he gave, the audience would scream "C-sharp!"—forcing him to play it as an encore. He later remarked, "I wish very, very much that I had never written it."
Before that moment, this music existed only on paper and in human memory.
Until that day in 1908, in a London studio, when that 24-year-old German carved it into a wax disc. This was the very first recording of this piece in human history—11 years before Rachmaninoff recorded it himself.
That young man was Wilhelm Backhaus (1884–1969), born in Leipzig in 1884.
Three years prior, he had just won the Anton Rubinstein Prize in Paris. The runner-up in that competition was Béla Bartók (1881–1945)—the man who would later redefine the face of 20th-century music lost to him that year.
But on that day in 1908, Backhaus was not yet the "Grand Master" known as the greatest Beethoven interpreter of the 20th century. He was simply a wild, lightning-fast young man, unaware that he was making history.
Recording through a horn could only capture an extremely limited range of frequencies (at the time, the system was strictly limited to between 100 and 2500 Hz). The piano was one of the most difficult instruments to record—its range spans the entire spectrum, from thunderous lows to crystalline highs, which was exactly what this primitive system struggled with most. He had to strike the keys with every ounce of his strength to force the sound through the horn and into the rotating wax. There was zero margin for error.
This physical process was the only way humanity knew how to save a sound in 1908.
Back then, this was the absolute cutting edge of technology.
A Lifetime of "Firsts"
That day’s recording was only the beginning. Over the following months, Backhaus continued to stand before that horn, leaving behind one "Human First" after another:
Grieg’s Piano Concerto: The first time a piano concerto was ever etched into shellac.
Bach’s "The Well-Tempered Clavier" (Prelude and Fugue in C♯ Major): The first time in history Bach’s keyboard music was ever recorded.
Chopin’s 48 Etudes: Twenty years later, in 1928, he completed the first-ever full recording of the complete Etudes—something no one had achieved before him.
How many "firsts" can one person leave in history?
Backhaus continued to perform and record until 1969. He played his final concert at a summer festival in Austria, performing Beethoven’s "Waldstein" Sonata. Seven days later, he passed away at the age of 85.
From that giant metal horn in London in 1908 to a summer night in an Austrian concert hall in 1969—a span of 61 years. He was there as recording technology evolved from wax discs to stereo tape. He never left the stage.
The Reality of the "Original"
Those original shellac records, recorded between 1908 and 1909, are now here at "The Old
Palace" (古殿).
These are not re-issues. They are not digital transfers. They aren't the restored audio files you find on streaming platforms. They are the original shellac discs issued in London over a century ago—true historical artifacts.
In Taiwan, "The Old Palace" is likely the only place you will ever see these records.
They aren't just "rare"; they are virtually non-existent here. After 118 years, very few of the original London pressings have survived globally, let alone found their way to Taiwan.
These records weren't simply "bought." They were sought.
To be precise, they were acquired through more than a decade of daily devotion—not just of money, but of spirit, time, and a passion bordering on obsession. Sometimes, money isn't enough; you need "fate." You need to be in the right place at the right time, with ten years of trained eyesight to recognize their value in an instant.
And even after all that effort, you only have a "chance" to find them. It is never guaranteed.
So, perhaps it’s better to say that History found its own way to our door.
What does 118-year-old sound actually sound like?
You can find digitized versions on YouTube. But a digital version is a modern re-interpretation. It has been transferred, cleaned, and compressed; it is an engineer’s "translation" of that sound.
When we play the original physical shellac at "The Old Palace," what you hear is 118 years of actual, physical time. You hear the specific frequency texture unique to horn recording. You hear what the grooves of the shellac itself are carrying.
These two things are not the same.
It is a sensation that can only be understood by being there in person—hearing it, and experiencing it for yourself.