This live recording differs from the recording included in the complete box set of Bruckner Symphonies on RCA Red Seal 60075.

THERE COMES A TIME GIL EVANS

Music and lyrics by Lionel Bart.

Principal cast includes: Ron Moody (Fagin), Jack Wild (Artful Dodger), Mark Lester (Oliver), Shani Wallis (Nancy), Harry Secombe (Bumble), Peggy Mount (Mrs. Bumble), and Sheila White (Bet).

Ron Moody recreates his magnificent stage performance as Fagin on this soundtrack album of what must be the best British musical film ever. Shani Wallis replaced Georgia Brown as Nancy, and, together with Mark Lester (Oliver), Jack Wild (Artful Dodger) and Oliver Reed (the sinister Bill Sikes), gives Lionel Bart's marvellous score the full treatment. Highlights are impossible to select; Oliver's tender "Where Is Love?" and Fagin's "You've Got To Pick A Pocket Or Two" linger in the memory, but the complete set is as fresh now as when it was released over 25 years ago. In those pre-Lloyd Webber days, musicals had lots of strong songs, not just one.

"The Amsterdam Guitar Trio recorded its brilliant arrangements of four of J.S. Bach's Brandenburg Concertos in 1985, and though that may seem a long time ago, these virtuoso performances still sound remarkably fresh and vital. The playing of guitarists Helenus de Rijke, Johan Dorrestein, and Olga Franssen, with harpsichordist Tini Mathot as guest soloist in the Brandenburg Concerto No. 5, is always transparent in line and meticulous in detail, so all of the counterpoint can clearly be heard and the ensemble is full and balanced. There are also fine distinctions made between the concertino and ripieno passages, which the three guitarists ingeniously simulate through adjustments in dynamics, timbres, and textures, and there is a genuine feeling of give and take that is essential in these classics of the concerto grosso form. RCA's sound is close-up and vibrant, with enough resonance and space to give the musicians breathing room."

-- Blair Sanderson, All Music Guide

THE BEST OF ROGER WHITTAKER

"The ''refreshing lyrical innocence'' which EG complained was missing at the opening of the Bernstein CBS performance is certainly caught by Slatkin who secures excellent, responsive playing from the St Louis orchestra. The reading is direct, not without its volatile moments, but essentially more conventional, less imaginative than Bernstein's. As EG noted, Bernstein is marvellously persuasive in holding concentration, building tense climaxes. The climax of the slow movement on the RCA disc is aided by the wide dynamic range and sense of spectacle of the splendid recording, but Bernstein creates much greater tension in the playing itself, as is immediately noticeable in the sense of ecstasy in the upper things soon after the movement's opening and in the closing section where the affinity with Romeo and Juliet is strong. similarly in the lyrically flowing string theme of the middle part of the Scherzo the rhythmic feeling is quirkier with Bernstein to match the bluff humuor of his finale.

Comparisons with the Karajan and Previn versions are pointless in the present context as neither is scheduled for Cd issue at present. The plus point for the RCA issue is the unaffected commitment of the over-all conception, with the finale engagingly high spirited to draw a parallel with the Classical Symphony alongside the famous ballet. The RCA recording too is first rate, naturally balanced within a convincing concert hall ambience. I did not find the weighty bass on the CBS compact Disc so oppressive as EG and certainly the Israel quality does not lack body and sharpness of focus, but detail is less natural and there is a touch of microphone-coloured glossiness on the violins..."

-- Ivan March, Gramophone [4/1985]

LALO, SIBELIUS, RAVEL PERLMAN

PIERRE MONTEUX EDITION VOL 3 -

Abbado’s Mendelssohn is as fresh and vivacious as ever. The Italian Symphony positively crackles with energy, and the collaboration with Branagh passes with flying colors.

It’s good to be able to report that Abbado’s Mendelssohn is as fresh and vivacious as ever. His LSO recordings of the symphonies (on DG) were very fine, but this new Berlin account of the Italian Symphony – recorded live at the Berlin Philharmonic’s 1995 New Year’s Eve Concert – positively crackles with energy, especially in the whirlwind finale. The second movement’s procession is beguilingly phrased and Abbado even convinces me that the weak Minuet is worth its place in this otherwise utterly marvellous work. The performance of Mendelssohn’s equally delightful incidental music to A Midsummer Night’s Dream is taken from the same concert, though Kenneth Branagh’s narration was added later (he projects well and the acoustics are well matched, so the result feels perfectly natural). The extracts Branagh uses fit well with Mendelssohn’s music (of which we hear all the important numbers) and concentrate on the central tussle between Titania and Oberon and the latter’s confused conspiracy with Puck to untangle the love lives of the young Athenians. It’s a heroic attempt to capture some of the magic of the play, and Branagh passes with flying colours (though I’m not totally convinced by Puck as a leprechaun). A delightful disc, then, beautifully packaged – though, curiously, without programme notes.

Performance: 5 (out of 5), Sound: 5 (out of 5)

-- Stephen Maddock, BBC Music Magazine

Chopin, Debiles & Tchaikovsky: Ballet Music

I didn't at all take to Fleisher's account of Beethoven No. 3, but I must say that this is a most impressive and exciting account of the Emperor, aided and abetted by a wonderful accompaniment from Szell and his orchestra—and, I mustn't forget, by a most intelligently balanced recording.

Fleisher plays the first movement with splendid brio and the dash with which he gives out the opening flourishes is equalled by the orchestra's attack and energy when it starts the tutti. In one passage of brilliant semiquavers he tends to hurry very slightly, both times it comes, but in general his rhythm is excellent. There are, too, passages of most lovely liquid playing, a kind of brush of quiet sound, beautiful not only as sound but admirable in that they let woodwind solos come through without any forcing by the players. Fleisher is obviously always aware of what's going on in the orchestra and knows when he should be taking part in chamber music, rather than always holding the front of the stage. He does indulge in a wide range of speeds but not, I suppose, more than is usually done. The slow movement is played simply by both soloist and orchestra, as it should be— yet it's a difficult thing to play something so apparently simply but make it as moving as it is here.

At the very end of the movement (bar 80) you may be surprised to hear the strings play a long crotchet, arco, instead of the pizzicato to which we are all so used (which starts only at the last quaver of the bar). I asked Denis Matthews (always a mine of Beethoven information) about this and he told me he had played the concerto with Szell and was quite astonished at rehearsal when the expected 'plonk' from the strings didn't happen. Szell told him that Beethoven's autograph has the `pizz' written over the rests in the middle of the bar: and I now see that the preface in the Eulenburg miniature score states the same thing (despite which, the word is printed at the start of the bar!). This is not a trivial point, for it occurs, of course, at just about the most magical moment of the whole concerto and I do think that the long, grave, B flat from the strings is far more apt than the rather disturbing 'plonk' which emphasizes Beethoven's change from B to B flat in the wrong way.

The finale goes splendidly all through and I only don't like Fleisher's mannered playing of part of the main theme each time. I refer to the bars marked espressivo, which would appear to suggest something other than his jerky delivery of the right hand phrases. But this is a small point and there is no doubt that this is the sort of performance that will make you enjoy the music afresh, for the playing all through the concerto is both zestful and perceptive; Szell's contribution is an added source of pleasure—and the admirable engineering complements the players' artistry.

-- Gramophone [1/1966, reviewing the original LP release of the Emperor Concerto]

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The apologies invariably made for Beethoven's Triple Concerto seem to have an effect on performances. I have rarely, if ever, known one which did not in some respect carry an apology with it, and I have rarely, if ever, known one which treated the work in the strong bravura way which makes for success in the Emperor or violin concertos. But here is just such a performance, and it makes one glory in what Beethoven did achieve in the work.

The scale of the work as conceived by Stern, Rose and Istomin is quite different from that of the rival performances on record, however enjoyable. The precision and stylishness of Schneiderhan, Fournier and Anda on DGG make for an eighteenthcentury manner in the outer movements, particularly the first. Some may well continue to prefer it, and technically the balance with the orchestra is better than on the new CBS disc, but the newly roused echoes of other Beethoven concertos place the Stern/ Rose/Istomin performance in the right period. It is after all a produce of the Fidelio years, the years which also produced the Fourth Piano Concerto, the Violin Concerto and the Symphonies Nos. 4 to 6. It is possible to regard the formalism of the outer movements, their conscientious balance of thematic statements by each of the three soloists in turn, as a return to eighteenth-century practice, but the sheer size speaks rather of a really grand manner. And if the thematic material is more bald and less striking than that in other Beethoven concertos (at least in the first movement) there was a practical need with three soloists to keep ideas short.

In achieving a sense of size Stern, Rose and Istomin reveal their own stature in the relaxation of the playing. Lesser players would either screw up the tension or become ponderous, but these three over and over again convey the joy of their playing: the relaxed lilt of the second subject, Rose's natural warmth in the slow movement enunciation, the whole of the final Rondo Polacca. Not only has the main Polacca theme tremendous verve, the middle episode, when the `yatta-tah-ta-tah-ta' rhythm emerges on horn and lower woodwind, has a unique tang of East European music. Stern obviously takes the idea of a Polacca literally and exaggerates the first beat in each dactyllic phrase, giving a real bounce to the music, and he is matched by his colleagues.

Then the semiquaver allegro reprise of the main theme towards the end is taken very fast and very clear, the result extraordinarily exciting. You have only to compare the DGG performance, very fast too and excellent in its way, to realize why Stern's, Rose's and Istomin's playing is not merely vital but great. Equally exciting are the furious florid dialogues between violin and 'cello in the passage-work of first and last movements. All three soloists are masterly in varying the tension, in shaping towards climaxes, and Ormandy draws from the Philadelphia Orchestra yet another of his really full-blooded accompaniments. In relation to the soloists the orchestra may seem a little backward, but the salient tuttis burst out with great effect, to match the scale of the soloists' playing. The nearness of the soloists does of course make it hard for them to sound as though they are playing really softly, and initial sotto voce entries in the finale are too loud.

In my detailed comparisons I have occasionally found points in which rivals score over Stern, Rose and Istomin, and the other CBS version has Serkin in marvellous form actually dominating the performance from the least prominent solo part, the non-virtuoso piano role originally devised for the Archduke Rudolf. But no minor shortcomings can alter the positive merits of what could well come to be regarded as a classic record.

-- Gramophone [10/1965, reviewing the original LP release of the Triple Concerto]

Track Listing
1. I Don't Know Why (I Just Do) / Love Me Or Leave Me
2. When I Take My Sugar to Tea
3. I'll Be Around
4. Strictly For the Birds
5. Before Love Went Out of Style
6. Soft Shoe
7. Smilin' Through
8. I Can't Give You Anything But Love
9. It's Easy to Remember
10. Play It Again Sam
11. Be a Child

Personnel: Cleo Laine (vocals); Dudley Moore (piano); Ray Brown (bass); Nick Caroli (drums).

This album is the result of two giant entertainers from the British Isles getting together in London in 1982 for a session of ballads and traditional pop. Dudley Moore was more famous, at least in the United States, for his comedic roles in a number of films. But he was a pianist and composer of no mean skills. Cleo Laine had been a singing talent of the first order since the 1950s and often performed and recorded with husband and sax player John Dankworth. Dankworth is present on one cut on this album. While Moore dashes off some nice solo work on such cuts as "When I Take My Sugar to Tea" and an Erroll Garner-like "I Can't Give You Anything but Love," it's Laine's wide-ranged, full-throated, expressive, and clear-as-a-mountain-lake voice that dominates the session. She sets the table for "I Don't Know Why I Just Do," recalling a few lines from "Love Me or Leave Me," and squeezes every ounce of feeling from "I'll Be Around." Then there's a fun, hip, overdubbed, scatting 1960 girl-singer rendition of "Before Love Went out of Style." The album's highlight track is a bluesy "Soft Shoe," where Dankworth chips in with his soprano sax and Laine and Moore engage in congenial patter. Moore's fellow rhythm section players are the inestimable Ray Brown and Nick Ceroli, which is the icing on a tasty musical cake that this album serves up.

For sheer vocal opulence in Wagner, these tracks would be hard to equal. Her ‘Ho-jo-to- ho!’ in 1935 announced on the gramophone her arrival as a Wagnerian prima donna and the splendour of the singing is unsurpassed.

-- Gramophone [10/1990]

Track Listing
1. Why Women Go Wrong
2. Nothing But a Rat
3. Jersey Belle Blues
4. Loveless Blues, The
5. I'm Just Dumb
6. Get Yourself Together
7. Crowing Rooster Blues
8. That's Love
9. Somebody's Got to Go
10. Lazy Woman Blues
11. Chicago Blues
12. I Did All I Could
13. In Love Again
14. Last Call, The
15. Rambler's Blues
16. Baby, Remember Me
17. He's a Jelly Roll Baker
18. When You Feel Low Down
19. Victim of Love, The
20. Watch Shorty

Recorded at RCA Recording Studios, Chicago from 1939 to 1944. Includes liner notes by Billy Altman.

Digitally remastered by Jay Newland (June 1992, BMG Studios, New York City).

All songs written by Lonnie Johnson.

Personnel: Lonnie Johnson (vocals, guitar); Joshua Altheimer, Lil Armstrong, Blind John Davis (piano).

Liner Note Author: Billy Altman.

Recording information: 11/02/1939-12/14/1944.

Illustrator: Jacqueline Murphy.

This 20-song collection covers 1930s and '40s material in which Johnson primarily performs blues tunes, doing salty, sassy, mournful, and suggestive numbers in a distinctive, memorable fashion. His vocals on "Rambler's Blues," "In Love Again," the title cut, and several others, are framed by brilliant, creative playing and excellent support from such pianists as Blind John Davis, Lil Hardin Armstrong, and Joshua Altheimer. This is tight, intuitive music in which Johnson set the tone and dominated the songs. If you're unaware of Lonnie Johnson's brilliant blues material, here's an excellent introduction.

}Gramophone (1/97, p. 102) "A welcome extension of this fine singer's repertoire on record, the programme exploits much that is best in her voice and also affords her a range of characterization..."{

Little did I know when in February I wrote about the Chandos version of this opera (ABR1019), based on an Adelaide Festival production, that an all-star recording, long needed, was so close at hand. That Australian version—John Culshaw's last production—had admirably clear recording as well as crisp orchestral playing, but it was seriously flawed in the singing. That alone would put the new CBS issue with its exceptionally strong trio of soloists into a different category, but the conducting of Lorin Maazel too transforms what I have always thought of as a piece too shortwinded dramatically, seriously lacking in detail of plot and characterization. Maazel with his incisive manner, which yet allows more rubato and more expressiveness than in some of his earlier Puccini recordings for CBS, makes one think of that shortwindedness as economy, a refreshing directness in telling the bald story (parallel with Giselle) of the girl who dies of love and as a spirit in the Black Forest clasps back her faithless (if repentant) lover in death. Here in other words, as Puccini's first operatic essay (in its final revision) is a piece which encapsulates a whole love affair within an hour, concentrating only on bare essentials.

Admirable as the orchestral ensemble was in the Chandos version, the playing of the National Philharmonic here is far subtler with the sharp syncopations characteristic of the piece (particularly in the cross-rhythms of the dances of the spirits, "La tregenda") punched home with much more bite. Maazel is excellent too in drawing out the individuality of the soloists without allowing self-indulgent phrasing of the kind which consistently marred the Australian performance. In Adelaide the soloists tried to make up for their vocal shortcomings by adopting an exaggeratedly grand manner, and the ease and assurance of Scotto, Domingo and Nucci here, as well as their vocal richness, transforms each Puccinian melody. The tunes still often sound more like Mascagni than genuine Puccini, but in this performance at least I find they catch readily in the mind, above all the love duet theme of the first scene which returns, suitably elaborated, at the beginning of the final duet when the spirit of Anna, the heroine, has declared that she is no longer love but revenge.

Though Scotto's voice as usual these days tends to spread at the top of the stave, this is one of the richest and warmest performances I have heard from her for some time, while Domingo as Roberto, rich and firm, manages to bring out the attractive anticipations of Des Grieux's music in Manon Lescaut. Leo Nucci as the hero's father avoids false melodrama in the set-piece aria of Act 2 immediately after the central symphonic interlude, with characteristic tone rather like Cappuccilli's. And if all this was not commendation enough, there is a delightful vignette from Tito Gobbi resonantly speaking the verses (omitted from the Chandos version) which come as a melodrama over the Prelude to Act 2 and then immediately before "La tregenda". The recording, not so sharply detailed as the Australian one, is yet far more spaciously atmospheric, with the chorus—the Ambrosians in excellent, incisive form—far more convincingly placed, not least in the eerie off-stage passages. I now want to see Le villi given on stage in a performance of comparable quality.

-- Edward Greenfield, Gramophone [5/1981]

If Mosè is Rossini uncharacteristically serious, Don Pasquale is Donizetti almost as uncharacteristically comic. But the opera is a charmer, and while this performance is frisky and well sung, it is almost defiantly unidiomatic with its German, Mexican and Russian principals.

-- John Rockwell, The New York Times [5/16/1982]

TCHAIKOVSKY: SYMPHONY NO 4, FA

Galway is at his engaging best, economical with his very personal vibrato, caressing in the slow movements and sprightly in the fast ones.

Quantz wrote about 300 concertos and 200 chamber works for the flute, more than Vivaldi did for his instrument, the violin and, I venture to guess, more than anyone else for any one instrument. Of course there were two good reasons for it: he was the premier flute virtuoso of his time and was well paid for his duties as flute teacher (with a bonus for each work he wrote) to Frederick the Great at Sanssouci, where the establishment included C. P. E. Bach—who was far less well rewarded. The four concertos recorded here confirm the why of it: Frederick's musical tastes were conservative and better satisfied by Quantz, who only half-released his grip on the Baroque, than by the often wildly experimental Bach. Quantz, faithful to the four-movement format in his trio sonatas, followed Vivaldi's three-movement, fast-slow-fast example in his concertos. His flanking movements commonly feature five appearances of the ritornello, from the material of which the solo episodes develop; there is little of counterpoint or sophistication of any kind. The thematic material is more galant than baroque, and what there is of the latter is redolent of Vivaldi, not least in the Allegro assai of the G minor Concerto.

These straightforward concertos, 'music for pleasure' as it were, spring no surprises—which no doubt pleased the king, and should likewise please today's lovers of cultured 'easy listening'. Galway is at his engaging best, economical with his very personal vibrato, caressing in the slow movements and sprightly in the fast ones. The Wurttemberg CO, with the friendly sound of the harpsichord nicely audible in this well-balanced recording, share Galway's virtues in these luculent and stylish performances.'

John Duarte, Gramophone [11/1991]

THE ROYAL EDITION - TCHAIKOVSK

There are pages here to rival even Bernstein. Come the finale, Slatkin well and truly throws down the gauntlet: his "Fanfare" is impressive, and within bounds—the right side of credibility— but it's the contrapuntal jubilance, the dance of life at the heart of the movement that really begins to set the adrenalin flowing. And nowhere more so than at the moment when we see this raunchy music for what it really is: counterpoint in search of its theme—namely, the "Fanfare" itself. Slatkin forges a toughly syncopated climax in its wake, driving home the halting dissonance which by now seems somehow inevitable—a moment of truth. The most moving pages of all then ensue, and Slatkin is still unassailable weaving Copland's piccolo-led tracery (woodwind, harps, piano, celeste) towards a tremendous peroration. Ihe anvil and xylophone hammer through terrifically at the close, heavy brass, bass drum and tam-tam ensuring a formidable pay-off.

So where are the drawbacks? Are there any? One or two: I am not entirely happy with the sound. Warmth, perspective and weight (handsome bass extension) are not a problem, but there is what can only be described as a curiously 'covered', unfocused quality which makes for a degree of opaqueness, particularly in the more densely scored tuttis. You need plenty of volume for the best effect. Not that Bernstein's live recording (DG, coupled with Quiet City) was ideal. Best for sound so far has been the 1987 EMI Mata/ Dallas Symphony Orchestra disc (nla). Sound apart, though, I don't think Slatkin quite catches the sheer audacity of the scherzo. Bernstein is second-to-none here: the raucous trumpet cackles and side-drum rim-shots—their effect in the Slatkin is somewhat muted, though he does pull off a swaggering climax as the trio tune reappears unexpectedly in canon. Again, though, I should like to hear it in more sharply focused sound.

Slatkin's first and third movements seem to me ideal. He certainly honours Copland's instruction "with simple expression" as the New England/ Quaker hymnody unfolds at the outset (Bernstein is inclined to burden these bars with 'significance'). The Saint Louis orchestra play very sweetly indeed as the words dolce, sonore and intensivo begin to appear on the page. The archlike superstructure is surely drawn, its two climactic edifices like great pillars of support. In the slow movement, Bernstein achieves a greater sense of dream-like remoteness in the opening bars though Slatkin is by far the subtler of the two as solo flute spirits us into nostalgic reverie. The texture is gorgeously light and airy, even as the dancing grows more boisterous (Bernstein does rather rush his fences here), and Slatkin's control of the long, slow wind-down (the dream fading gradually into the deepest recesses of the mind) is masterly. I only wish he had held the pause on the final diminuendo in the strings just a shade longer (lunga, Copland marks) so as to heighten the moment at which the flutes so magically announce both "Fanfare" and finale. This is a performance of real distinction, though. Bernstein's burning conviction, his unique electricity, set him apart, but there's always room for more than one view.

Slatkin's coupling might sway some collectors. Copland's own 1966 CBS recording of Music for a Great City, his reworking (for the LSO's sixtiethbirthday season) of the score for Jack Garfine's 1961 film Something Wild, has not yet resurfaced on CD. But Slatkin's reading is a winner: gritty and urgent in Copland's suitably frantic evocation of the New York City "Skyline" with its jazz and latino explosions, not least the movement "Subway Jam"—a kind of angry Rumba, fractured brass and percussion to the fore. "Night Thoughts" is Edward Hopper/Quiet City territory: now languid, now anxious, now wistful—a telling reminder of just how well Copland understood the soul of both rural and urban America.

-- Gramophone [2/1991]

These songs respond to the sheer beauty of Stutzmann's singing like grass to rainfall.

The performances here are distinguished throughout by the evident intelligence as well as the assured technical ability of singer and pianist; but probably the feature that will single out this recital in memory, say a couple of years hence, is the depth, the contralto quality, of the voice. It is not simply that it makes a change (though it surely does that), but that the deep colouring of the tone gives a rather different aspect to several of the songs, particularly the Ariettes oubliees, and often serves them well. The third of the ariettes, ''L'ombre des arbres'', for instance, responds to it like grass to rainfall: there's a glow that wasn't there before. The ending of ''Green'' (''puis que vous reposez'') and, in the Baudelaire settings, the evening-scene of ''Recueillement'', are also lovely examples.

Not that there is any sense of luxuriating. It is not sensuous singing; not, as it were, inviting to stroke the velvet. Attention is very much focused on the words. Yet there is a sheer beauty of sound to enjoy as well, sometimes lovely in itself (as in the last line of Baudelaire's ''Harmonie du soir'') but often as a subtle reflection of mood, as in the diminuendo so finely achieved in ''Il pleure dans mon coeur'' (''Le dueil est sans raison'') from the Ariettes oubliees where the note trails away in quiet thoughtfulness. Sometimes one would welcome more of a smile in the voice, and perhaps in the Histoires naturelles there is opportunity for a little more showmanship, especially in the first, ''Le paon''. But this too has its compensations: the jokes, such as they are, are not killed by coyness, and in the first of the Bilitis songs there is none of that cute wide-eyed-innocence act over the ''ceinture perdue''.

Though recordings of the songs have not been in notably short supply, many of the best are currently unavailable. This new disc is as attractive in its programme as in its performances; presentation and recorded sound likewise. In case a lingering doubt remains, perhaps I should add that Stutzmann is not another of those American girls in Paris, but was born there (in 1965).

-- Gramophone [7/1992]

STRINGS - THE DEFINITIVE COLLE

...[A] first-class performances of the inventive Eighth Symphony – Slatkin’s reading of the Tallis-like Cavatina is radiant. Slatkin also gives an inspiring and sensitive account of RVW’s enigmatic, undervalued Ninth Symphony, rich in associations with Salisbury, Stonehenge and Hardy’s Tess.

-- Ian Lace, BBC Music Magazine

Slatkin breathes a big sigh of appreciation into one of my all-time favourite American, or should I say Spanish, tunes: the ''Tango of the Merchant's Daughters'' from The Incredible Flutist. If ever a tune and a suite have one yearning to hear the complete ballet, this is it. Yet rest assured that these 16 or so eventful minutes do constitute the best and brightest of the Flutist (roughly half)—and that Slatkin and his orchestra in no way sell them short. Everything here is properly sun-drenched from the heat-hazed opening at siesta-time to the flashing tambourines and castanets of the catchy up-beat dances. The St Louis 'flutist' proves to be a real spellbinder and the Merchant's chosen daughter duly succumbs in a gorgeously sultry account of the clarinet and oboe-led ''Siciliana''. Slatkin taxes the entire orchestra in the sustained accelerando of the final ''Polka'', but a good time was obviously had by all. This, of course, is the score where members of the orchestra (and anyone else to hand) get to voice their approval in cheering and whistling as the circus hits town; even Slatkin's dog gets in a solo—brief but auspicious.

Piston, the accomplished fine-artist, surfaces in the Three New England Sketches, though no specific locations are envisaged or intended. ''The audience shouldn't try to find special places in this music,'' he was quoted as saying, ''but I won't mind if they smell clams in the air.'' Well, I smell clams. But for one sudden squall, his opening seascape is all calm, open waters and reflected light (upper strings, harp, muted trumpets) with the rustling shingle of cymbal and side-drum. The scherzo, ''Summer Evening'' at once put me in mind of the fleet nocturnal will-o'-the-wisping of the Vaughan Williams Fifth Symphony Scherzo, while the ''Mountains'' are, for sure, American through and through. I particularly warmed to the central pastorale—an unexpected pleasure with strings, then flute and harp and some engaging canonic detail from the other woodwinds distilled into a few moments of repose before the hike recommences.

This kind of bare-faced contrast is the very essence of the Sixth Symphony's first movement. When reviewing Gerard Schwarz's recent Delos recording, I spoke of the arresting dynamic tensions between Piston's 'rocky road' music—toughly syncopated, impulsive—and his sudden departures to Elysian fields. Boston's French connection (Munch conducted the 1955 premiere) would seem to be acknowledged in these fleeting daydreams for harp and Debussian woodwinds. Boston's virtuosity is certainly celebrated in the scherzo—an impish, now-you-see-it-now-you-don't creation which Slatkin and his orchestra have honed to a fantastic level of precision. There's marvellously keen articulation from his strings, and to say that his percussion are quick-witted is almost to spoil the fun of the last few bars. Solo cello and oboe lead the quest of the slow movement—sad yet determined music through which Slatkin communicates a fierce intensity; the finale is essentially a lap of honour for the entire orchestra—well earned on this occasion.

I'm not going to express a clear preference between Slatkin and Schwarz in this symphony. Both are impressive, both exceedingly well recorded and besides, choice may well be governed by coupling. Schwarz gives us the outgoing Second Symphony; with Slatkin you get the pictorial Piston—and that gorgeous Tango.

-- Edward Seckerson, Gramophone [1/1992]