Rebecca Hirsch follows up her invaluable coupling of the two Rawsthorne violin concertos for Naxos (9/98) with this no less likeable account of Britten’s superb essay in the form. Not only does she (for the most part) make light of the solo part’s fiendish technical difficulties, her playing evinces a beguiling lyrical beauty that can take the breath away. None the less, by the side of both Ida Haendel and Lorraine McAslan, Hirsch perhaps lacks the last ounce of fiery temperament (and there are a handful of tiny misreadings that might prove a touch irksome on repetition), but generally speaking she is a convincing and characterful advocate.
In the Cello Symphony, Tim Hugh displays a profound musicality, great subtlety of tone and affecting lyrical ardour that put me in mind of Steven Isserlis in his account with Richard Hickox, though if I’m being absolutely honest this trusty newcomer doesn’t quite have the dark-hued individuality and unremitting logic of that distinguished 1987 production. Nor would I personally want to be without either of dedicatee Rostropovich’s blisteringly intense, composer-directed versions of this gritty masterpiece, but Hugh’s achievement is considerable and he more than holds his own alongside what is a formidable roster of current rivals.
As anyone who possesses his sparkling RLPO anthology of the Four Sea Interludes, Gloriana concert suite and ‘Pas de Six’ from The Prince of the Pagodas on EMI Eminence (3/95) can attest, Takuo Yuasa is a Britten conductor of strong instincts, and he draws an eloquent response from the BBC Scottish SO. My only major qualm surrounds the Violin Concerto’s opening Moderato con moto, where some leisurely tempos tend to undermine the purposeful thrust of the whole: to my ears, tensions slacken dangerously from the poco a poco rilasciando marking at 14 after fig. 7 (5'23'') up to the sublime recapitulation at fig. 8 (6'31''). One minor textual observation: at the outset of the same work, Yuasa’s cymbals are suspended and not naturale as marked in the score (a trick he repeats towards the first movement’s close and again during the Lento e solenne coda to the entire piece). Apart from one or two uncomfortably hard-edged tuttis, both sound and balance are very good indeed, though in the Cello Symphony I miss the wealth of pungent orchestral detail that helps make the Isserlis/Hickox reading in particular such a revelatory experience.
To sum up, then: if neither performance quite displaces the very finest available, this remains a coupling to reckon with and is certainly worthy of investigation at its extremely modest price.'