Listening to this new Beethoven symphony cycle alongside Jukka-Pekka Saraste’s (Profil, 6/19), it’s difficult to believe one’s hearing the same orchestra, particularly as the two sets were recorded a mere two years apart. Going from Saraste’s ‘dense, post-Wagnerian body of sound’, as Peter Quantrill put it in his Gramophone review, to the sensational transparency of Janowski’s recording made me wonder if such a stark difference should be attributed to the podium or the control booth. It’s a question worth considering, as sound quality seems to be the organising principle of Janowki’s interpretations.

Although the WDR Symphony Orchestra may lack the luxe lustre of, say, the Berlin Philharmonic, they play with exceptional tonal refinement throughout – so much so that there’s nary a rough or ugly note in the set, even when one might want a hint of rusticity or edgy intensity. Add to this a finely variegated colour palette, consistently clear articulation and exceptional care over orchestral balance (with assistance, surely, from Pentatone’s engineers), and the result is dazzling not just for its sheer loveliness but for its striking lack of indulgence and elucidation of detail. What a joy, for instance, to be able to discern every layer with which Beethoven builds the coda of the Eroica’s first movement (at 14'55"), or to encounter such a limpid stream in the Pastoral that all its multifarious swirls and eddies are visible (try at 6'33").

Janowski’s tempos are all over the place in their relation to Beethoven’s metronome marks. He pays scant attention to the majority of them (which hardly sets him apart) but then hits some, including the Menuetto of the First and the Allegretto of the Seventh, bop on the nose. And it’s not that he’s always slower, as most modern-instrument performances are; his brook in the Pastoral, for example, flows even more briskly than the composer imagined. Yet even when he’s pushing close to (or over) the mark, nothing comes out garbled or smudged. The finale of the Fourth, for example, goes at a good clip but is marvellously articulate, while the finale of the Eighth – by far my favourite performance of the cycle – is a miracle of foam and froth.

There’s warmth here, too, thanks to Janowski’s careful attention to both dynamic and expressive markings. In his hands, the maggiore section of the Eroica’s Funeral March lights a path towards hope and reconciliation, the central Trio of the Eighth’s Menuetto looks ahead to Brahms’s serenades, and the violins’ cantilena at 9'51" in the Adagio of the Ninth is an entryway to rapture. Or try the first phrases of the Seventh’s Allegretto, where he demonstrates how much emotion a true and sustained pianissimo can impart.

Such sensitivity and attentiveness make Janowski’s tendency to smooth over the music’s jagged edges especially frustrating. PQ, reviewing Pentatone’s single-disc issue of the Fifth and Sixth symphonies (1/20), described Janowski’s Fifth as ‘among the most literal-minded readings on record’, but I think it goes beyond an issue of just-the-facts, ma’am. When the breathless quavers in the first movement become an even, steady stream, so much is lost. Did Beethoven really want everything in its right place here? And having just heard Thomas Adès locate the slow movement’s expressive duality in his recent recording with the Britten Sinfonia (see above), Janowski’s seems relatively shapeless and wan. Why mute the dynamic contrasts that are clearly written into the score? The finale has a powerful sense of purpose, but at that point it’s practically too late.

I find only two performances here wholly satisfying: the Fourth and Eighth. Despite memorable moments or entire movements, the remaining symphonies in the set are proverbial curate’s eggs. If only the Scherzo of the Eroica wasn’t quite so suave and sophisticated (and those wonderful two-to-a-bar intrusions right near the end made to feel so uneventful), or the finale of the Pastoral didn’t feel so harried, or the daring harmonic surprises in the first movement of the Seventh registered as something out of the ordinary, or the Scherzo of the Ninth had some bite. And speaking of the Ninth, while the choral contribution is quite fine and balanced so one can hear chorus and orchestra with near-ideal clarity, the solo quartet tilts towards the strained and screechy.

I wish Pentatone had released the Fourth and Eighth symphonies as a single disc rather than the Fifth and the Sixth. They’re not only the plums of this cycle, they stand near the top of a very tall heap of recorded performances.