The merits of the enterprising Naxos set are considerable. Drawing some consistently bright­eyed‚ agreeably polished playing from his useful Dublin band‚ Andrew Penny brings a clear headed perception to Sir Malcolm Arnold’s uniquely rewarding symphonic odyssey. Any tiny reservations I harbour are almost entirely concerned with the contents of disc 1‚ which couples the first two symphonies. In the taut No 1 Handley’s RPO account for Conifer (10/96 – nla) remains unassailable in its blistering cogency‚ this unsettling score’s menace and instability quarried with comprehensive insight. Penny’s‚ too‚ is a powerful‚ satisfyingly lucid reading‚ if not quite matching Handley’s in terms of sheer bite‚ sheen and concentration. The Irish orchestra’s slight thinness of string­tone is more of a drawback in the Second Symphony‚ though Penny’s actual reading is a model of refreshing observation and scrupulous sensitivity. Not everyone‚ perhaps‚ will go a bundle on Penny’s comparatively unlingering way with the bleakly beautiful slow movement (and the glowering processional at its heart possesses less of a Mahlerian tang than is usual)‚ but‚ as Ivan March pointed out in his initial review‚ this presumably reflects the composer’s wishes (Arnold himself has lent this series his personal imprimatur). Tuttis incline to a slight coarseness in the boisterous finale; otherwise‚ the sound throughout the whole set boasts impressive transparency and realism (production­duties were shared between Chris Craker and Tim Handley). I was very much taken with Penny’s Third. Certainly‚ the terse‚ almost Sibelian logic of the exhilarating opening movement unfolds with enviable grip here‚ and in the succeeding Lento Penny strikes a judicious balance between nervy tension and questing mystery. The performance of the more uneven‚ yet frequently haunting Fourth is also a great success‚ the Irish woodwind principals displaying a captivating lightness of touch in the second movement’s winsome trio section. Equally‚ Penny sees to it that the slow movement has exactly the right wistful unease‚ and the boisterous finale is dispatched with infectious gusto by all concerned. Having recently sung the praises of Penny’s outstanding new versions of Nos 5­8 in ‘Take 5’ in the October issue‚ I won’t repeat myself‚ except to say that they are in almost every way a match for the best (indeed‚ both the Sixth and Seventh enjoy exceptionally persuasive advocacy). All of which just leaves the inscrutable‚ profoundly unsettling Ninth‚ whose baldness of argument and texture fazed both the BBC (who had commissioned it in the first place) and Faber (his publishers at the time). Once again‚ Penny secures a lively‚ well­disciplined response and his conception (particularly in the 23­minute Lento finale‚ which stretches the players’ and audience’s powers of concentration to the very limit) is an impressively far­sighted ‘whole’. Overall‚ then‚ a notable achievement and terrific value for money. Excellent presentation too. RCA’s two­CD anthology leaves the impression of being rather hastily cobbled together‚ though there are undoubtedly some nuggets along the way. Julian Bream’s elegant 1959 account of the Guitar Concerto with the Melos Ensemble under the composer remains a classic‚ and Handley’s roistering account of Beckus the Dandipratt is another highlight. Elsewhere‚ the spirit of St Trinian’s illuminates the boisterous finale of the delightful Concerto for Three Hands (small wonder this movement was immediately encored at the work’s 1969 Proms première)‚ while both A Grand‚ Grand Overture (which includes parts for such infamous extras as three vacuum cleaners‚ a floor­polisher and four rifles) and Carnival of Animals owe their existence to Gerald Hoffnung and his mad­cap annual festivals. The brief Anniversary Overture (written in 1968 for the Hong Kong Philharmonic Society) doesn’t show the composer at his best (Handley’s stunning Tam O’Shanter – 2/94‚ nla – would have been a much better choice)‚ and although the Grimethorpe Colliery Band are predictably superlative in the Little Suites Nos 1 and 2‚ Fantasy (written for the 1974 National Championships) and The Padstow Lifeboat (an affectionate tribute from 1968 to that Cornish lifeboat station’s ‘long‚ heroic and distinguished record’)‚ not everyone will necessarily want Eric Farr’s (albeit wittily idiomatic) brass arrangements of the three popular sets of regional dances. We also get sensitive and keenly observant performances (from London Musici under Mark Stephenson) of the winsome 1950 Serenade and early‚ darkly atmospheric tone­poem Larch Trees. A fairly enjoyable collection‚ in sum‚ though surely one of Sir Malcolm’s irresistible wind concertos or a chamber piece would not have gone amiss (the brass items alone tally to well over an hour). I trust‚ too‚ that Handley’s exemplary set of the complete symphonies will reappear in due course.