As ever, Rozhdestvensky has plenty to tell us about the music. He approaches both symphonies with a keen ear for colour and modulation, even to the extent—as David Nice rightly points out in his perceptive annotation—of effecting ''a few modest alterations'' to Borodin's scoring. The most obvious of these concerns the opening of the First Symphony's Andante, where strings are replaced by an expressively turned cello solo. Yet Rozhdestvensky's pursuit of textural clarity (the stated motive for his emendations) does not preclude his appreciation of the music's darker ingredients, especially among strings and brass. Again, the slow movement provides a useful sampling point, as does the finale.
These are thoughtful performances, tellingly inflected and generally well played; but comparisons with Evgeni Svetlanov's RCA recording with the State Symphony Orchestra of Russia reveal an occasional sluggishness that weighs rather heavily, especially on the faster music—the First Symphony's scherzo, for example, which has nothing like Svetlanov's buoyancy or lightness of touch; and the finale, where parallels with Schumann (the Second Symphony in particular) seem more conspicuous than usual. Incidentally, don't be misled by Rozhdestvensky's shorter timing for this last movement: there's a significant repeat that Svetlanov observes but that Rozhdestvensky chooses not to play. Another of Svetlanov's advantages (at least to my ears) concerns his preference for divided violins, and never more so than in the First Symphony's main Allegro and scherzo, where antiphonal writing adds extra sparkle to the musical argument. Generally speaking, Svetlanov is more prone to highlight contrasts in mood and colour; his wind players phrase with particular precision and delicacy, and his strings display genuine ardour—although, to be fair, the Swedish cellos often sound smoother in tone than their Russian counterparts. Then again, Rozhdestvensky's interpretations are more subtle than Svetlanov's, even to the extent of occasional fussiness: at the beginning of the Third Symphony's song-like Moderato assai, for example, it is Svetlanov who phrases with the greater (and surely more appropriate) simplicity. The contrast, I suppose, is one of primary colours versus sombre pastels, and I have to confess a definite preference for the former.
I also prefer RCA's more integrated recording, although Rozhdestvensky places us in his debt by programming two unusual and highly constrasted songs, the one a soulful and intense memorial, the other a pleasing ballade reminiscent of Prince Igor. Both are well sung and could understandably tempt purchasers who would rather avoid Svetlanov's more predictable (and wholly excellent) Prince Igor Overture and ''Polovtsian March''.'