Numerous chamber orchestras have recorded the Brahms symphonies over the past quarter of a century. My favourite features the Chamber Orchestra of Europe led by Paavo Berglund (Ondine, 8/01), and I keep returning to it because it offers marvellous textural transparency and solid musical values while eschewing nearly vibrato-less strings and other historically informed interpretative conjecture that I find problematic in sets such as Adám Fischer’s with the Danish Chamber Orchestra (Naxos, A/22).

Now the COE have surveyed the Brahms symphonies again, this time under Yannick Nézet-Séguin, and I’d describe these performances in more or less the same terms as the Berglund. I’ll admit that when I initially heard the propulsive opening of the First Symphony, I worried this might be another set that’s out to prove a point. The booklet notes fuelled my concern, as they suggest that Nézet-Séguin ‘pushes the music to the limit’ with his ‘brisk tempi’, when in fact he does nothing of the kind (Berglund actually gets through his cycle four minutes faster). Does the Quebecois conductor choose a few lively tempos here and there? Yes. But aside from that urgent reading of the First’s Un poco sostenuto, there’s nothing outlandish. In fact, he is just as likely to take his time, as he does to immensely expressive effect in the Poco allegretto of the Third.

The primary difference between the two COE sets is Nézet-Séguin’s volatility. Both conductors are flexible with tempos but Nézet-Séguin seems more eager to take risks. It’s as if he views each symphony – and each movement, for that matter – as an emotional journey. Several times in this cycle, for example, he makes the reappearance of a theme distinct from the first time we heard it. This occurs in the Allegro of the First, for instance, where the lyrical second theme is more intensely expressive when it recurs at 12'22", and again in the opening movement of the Second, where he pulls the tempo back slightly at the reappearance of the lyrical second subject at 15'14" to heart-melting effect.

I love the gruffness Nézet-Séguin brings to the breathless passage in the middle of the Third’s first movement (at 6'14"), where the strings churn in breathless syncopations, and then how (half a minute or so later) figures in the winds and lower strings swirl almost woozily from the passionate exertion. I’ve mentioned the measured tempo for the Poco allegretto – it’s not especially slow but he takes his time, drawing out the first notes of the opening melody in the cellos so that you can almost taste the feeling of wistfulness. I can’t think of another performance that’s so poignantly fragile and intimate.

Yet even when the spotlight is thrown on details, all four symphonies and their individual movements maintain their structural integrity. These are spontaneous-sounding interpretations, sure, but they’re also thoughtful. The tempos feel unerringly right to me (even that strikingly fast opening of the First, when heard in context), as does the application of rubato. Indeed, throughout this set, Nézet-Séguin hardly puts a foot wrong, and the COE play their hearts out for him. Ondine’s engineering is richer and more transparent than DG’s, but the recorded sound on this new set certainly doesn’t hinder my enjoyment of some truly special music-making.