The pleasures here are considerable. As one would predict, the Berliners display an artistry and discipline that silence criticism; Abbado's direction, too, is profoundly musical, eloquent and often perceptive. In the opening movement's development section, there is real mastery about the way he builds towards the E minor fff chord at 4 after fig. K (6'48'')—a thrilling moment, as indeed is the trumpets' brazen reinstatement of the introductory theme a few bars later (beginning at 7'14''). I also salute Abbado's refusal to whip up excitement in the closing stages. Only a certain want of joyful spontaneity momentarily concerns, an impression reinforced by the succeeding Adagio. Again, the orchestral playing is distinguished and a few individual details really capture the imagination: witness the awesome range of dynamic from fig. G (6'09'') onwards (the ever-watchful Mackerras also handles this passage particularly well), as well as the wonderfully airborne woodwind phrasing at 8'27''. At the same time, there will be those who may well feel it's all just a touch too sophisticated and urbane, and I personally found myself craving a greater sense of 'out-of-doors' freshness and rustic charm (during my comparative listening, Dorati's vintage LSO wind roster struck me as especially characterful in this lovely movement).
The BPO strings launch the Allegretto grazioso in beautifully pliant, supple fashion: mobility and poise are very much the order of the day. Come the trio, and Abbado (like Barbirolli and Kubelik before him) draws some exquisitely realized portamentos from the violins when they finally take up the main melody. Rather more perilously indulgent, however, is Abbado's self-conscious altering of dynamics at the start of the da capo reprise. If the finale's introductory call-to-arms isn't as arresting as it might be, the strings create some ravishing sounds in the calm before the whirlwind coda. These closing bars are stunningly well articulated; I certainly can't recall a more rhythmically precise presentation of that exuberantly theatrical ritardando just before the end. In the last resort though, for all the textural incident and supreme refinement of Abbado's reading, I found it all perhaps just a little too 'knowing'. That's about the last thing one could say about Kubelik's marvellously communicative, vibrant 1966 recording with this same great orchestra, whilst Barbirolli's inspirational 1957 Halle account radiates a love and spontaneity that are very special indeed (and the transfer engineers have worked wonders with the original Pye-Nixa tapes).
The Noon Witch makes an appetizing curtain-raiser on this new Sony CD. Once more, the focus and sheen of the orchestral response are wholly beguiling, and Abbado's direction is as scrupulously alert as it is thoughtful, if perhaps lacking in the sheer narrative flair of the very finest Dvorakians. So it follows that the entry of the witch is even more chillingly atmospheric in the hands of Talich and Kubelik, both of whom extract the greater drama from Dvorak's compellingly inventive writing throughout. That said, the blazing splendour of Abbado's tragic apotheosis is hard to resist and there is no denying the superb accomplishment of this music-making. The Philharmonie sound both here and in the main work is satisfyingly full and wide-ranging.'