Monteux's 1950 mono recording [of the Chausson Symphony] is brilliantly lit (and bass-boosted), faithfully capturing the more transported 'playing out' of his San Francisco players, and of Monteux's own relishing of the Symphony's Wagnerian synthesis (space doesn't permit itemizing all the Symphony's constituent Wagnerisms, so I'll settle for Magic Fire Music in the first movement; storm and horseback-ride in the third; and Tristan all over the place). Monteux's choice and gearing of tempos also has that quality of 'rightness' you recognize within minutes - all of which prompts the thought that if there were more conductors of Monteux's persuasion around, this Symphony wouldn't be playing second fiddle to the César Franck.

-- Gramophone [4/1998]

PIERRE MONTEUX EDITION VOL 8 -

PIERRE MONTEUX EDITION VOL 13

Borodin's orchestral works are invariably fresh and striking, and certainly benefit from the vivid performances they receive here.

Only two movements of Borodin’s small but perfectly formed Third Symphony exist, and these had to be completed by Alexander Glazunov, who also created the overture to the opera Prince Igor out of his recollections of the composer’s piano rendition of the piece (Borodin never wrote it down). Similarly, the ‘Polovtsian March’ from the same opera was completed and orchestrated by Nikolay Rimsky-Korsakov. All of these, then, are fascinating examples of what one might term ‘communal composition’, a characteristic activity of the members of the Russian nationalist group known as ‘The Five’, which included both Borodin and Rimsky-Korsakov.

Whoever was ultimately responsible for the musical ideas, they are invariably fresh and striking, and certainly benefit from the vivid performances they receive from the State Symphony Orchestra playing under Evgeny Svetlanov, who gives the music a strong rhythmic profile and shapes its melodic lines sensitively.

Ironically, it is the much earlier First Symphony, written in the 1860s, which Borodin did complete himself, that has its share of undistinguished material and an occasional uncertainty of direction. Admittedly, it was more or less an apprentice piece, and its less formal central movements are highly appealing. This recording captures the characteristically Russian instrumental timbres nicely.

-- George Hall, BBC Music Magazine

PIERRE MONTEUX EDITION VOL 2 -

BRAHMS: PIANO CONCERTO NO 2, E

Includes sonata(s) in d major by Luigi Boccherini. Soloists: Jascha Heifetz, Gregor Piatigorsky.

THE HEIFETZ COLLECTION, VOL.27

THE HEIFETZ COLLECTION VOL 10

BEETHOVEN: SYMPHONIES NOS 5 &

BRAHMS: SYMPHONY NO 2, TRAGIC

BRAHMS: PIANO CONCERTO NO 1 A

Messiter may be the "Heifetz of the oboe" and he could hardly have asked for better support than that which he receives from the Guildhall String Ensemble.

Those wishing to follow their musico-horticultural bent in the baroque oboe garden have plenty of seed packets to choose from; some are regularly used, some infrequently, whilst others remain to be opened in the presence of recording equipment. There are no unopened packets here. There were few instruments for which Vivaldi neglected to write a concerto or two, and though the harpsichord was one of them the oboe was not; of his 19 completed oboe concertos, those originally written as such include both RV447 and RV454, the latter being one of two in II cimen/o (Op. 8) described as for "violin or oboe", though the music strongly suggests oboe.

Bach's harpsichord concertos were developed from concertos first written for other solo instruments; in the case of BWV 1056, the Harpsichord Concerto in F minor, the (lost) original is believed to have been written for the oboe. The question mark over HWV287, first published in 1863, is more fundamental: did Handel write it? Whatever the answer, no one is being deprived of any royalties and we may enjoy it in its own right—genuine, misascribed or pastiche. No doubt, however, about the concertos of Marcello and Albinoni (who was very generous to oboists), both old favourites and justly so.

The accompanying booklet describes Messiter as "the Heifetz of the oboe"; be that as it may, overstated or not, he is a master in every aspect of his craft. The longest and busiest of lines (and there are plenty of both here) emerge with smooth grace, rounded tone and impeccable dynamic control; in the Largo of the Bach Concerto he adopts the keyboard embellishment, lock stock and barrel, but with a smoothness that disarms criticism. The Guildhall String Ensemble demonstrated their fresh-faced approach to baroque music in their recent recordings of Handel's Op. 6 Concerti grossi for RCA ((p RD87895, RD87907, 2/90), and they do so again here; Messiter could hardly have asked for better and more attentive support, in which the recording engineers play a commendable part. It isn't possible to identify the best recording of baroque oboe concertos on modern instruments, but it is reasonable to say that this is very high in the ranking.

-- Gramophone [9/1990]

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]

BERLIOZ: SYMPHONIE FANTASTIQUE