The 1979 Eroica is a monument, no question about that. It’s one of the most imposing things in Giulini’s discography. Measured in simple clock time it’s impressive enough – nearly 58 minutes (including the first movement repeat). The opening Allegro con brio emerges in an unhurried three-in-a-bar, with almost every detail expressively underlined and cushioned in sumptuous orchestral tone. Urgency? Heroic striving? A flicker of Beethovenian brio? Nothing so vulgar is allowed to detract from the movement’s steady, regal progress. It’s a similar story in the Funeral March: the attention to detail, the tonal palette, the grand climax-building – everything commands respect. But a ‘march’? Good gracious no; this is more like a stately cruise in a Rolls Royce hearse.
That said, the transfer is well up to the best standards of DG’s Originals series, with tone and detail warm and clear. And there are times when – whatever your view of the Eroica – Giulini’s brings out something that catches the ear as never before: subtleties of texture in the Scherzo; a passing but important relationship between melody and accompaniment in the slow movement; a new expressive twist in what one thought was a familiar solo line. There’s more of this kind of insight in Giulini’s Manfred, most strikingly at the very beginning – how many other conductors have made such compelling sense of the syncopated opening chords? And this time there are moments where the allegro does achieve a real dramatic urgency. But plenty of it is a long way from what Schumann seems to imply by the main marking In leidenschaftlichem tempo (“In a vehement tempo”). The plushness, the suave lingering over anything that hints at Schumann’s intimate ‘Eusebius’ mood – it all acts like a ball and chain on the music’s tragic momentum. I’m glad to have heard these recordings again, but I won’t be hurrying back to them.'