The very first bars of Bernstein's performance impinge on the senses; this is going to be an occasion. The lower strings start slower than ever before, and perhaps quieter too. There is tension from the first note, and, my goodness, you certainly do listen—even when later on doubts begin to assail you. The quick bits tend to go quicker, the slow bits slower, the tempo changes more often, every phrase, every counter-subject is pointed. It is immensely exciting; at times, excitable. Bernstein is, as they say, "doing something with it" in every bar, and the orchestra responds with both warmth and praiseworthy precision. A lot of thought has gone into this interpretation, and great expertise into its realisation, for it is not easy for an orchestra to embrace this degree of rubato and emerge with its ensemble intact. I must say that I very much enjoyed it all. There were moments when I thought Bernstein went right over the edge; most strikingly during the Gargantuan rallentando in the finale leading up to the second subject in five sharps. For no less than eleven bars the tempo gets slower and slower and slower till you could scream. But I think one must forgive a lapse or two in this type of interpretation, which is taking risks all the time. It is a much more difficult kind of performance to bring off than the conventional one, and though one or two things go awry a great many come off splendidly. The second movement is a joy. The tempo is faster than we are used to, and it is in fact a true Allegretto, which is Franck's marking for it; in Britain conductors usually seem to play it Andante. Bernstein almost dances along, as indeed does Munch who, on the rival stereo disc, adopts exactly the same tempo, and that is how I shall always hope to hear this movement in future. Bernstein is content to leave the tempo alone much of the time, though he manages the transitions delightfully.

-- Gramophone [10/1960, reviewing the original LP release of the Franck Symphony]