This recording gives one a splendid sense of being very close, not to a unified wind band but to a group of individual soloists, all of whom are enjoying themselves a great deal. They are not very interested in suavely blended homogeneity, and would probably throw music stands at Herr Brezina if he were to venture to demand it. But they are not egotists either, playing on auto-pilot between their own solo spots: they enjoy listening to each other as well, and will sometimes admiringly echo one another's phrasing. What you will not hear them do is reduce by one jot the individuality of their instruments in the interest o fobtaining a neat and glossy ensemble. The oboists rejoice in their oboe-ness (they are very reedy and plangent), the clarinets in their clarinet-ness (almost furrily soft-reeded) and the horns positively exult in not being woodwind at all but brass, and thus brassy.
To be sure, these are somewhat indulgent readings: in the Andante of the Dvorak they phrase so expansively, and are so intrigued to find and to explore shadows in the coda, that they add a good minute and a half to the timing of Marriner's Philips account. At times, too, their enjoyment is earthy: if you are used to Marriner's fleet lightfootedness in the Trio of the second movement you may be disconcerted by the stamping peasant dance that the Munich players make of it; but you may, as I have, come to prefer it. Marriner's highly enjoyable reading is more kempt and more shevelled throughout—much more of a conducted performance, in short—and he is thus more able to obtain crispness and precision from his players. But I find it hard to resist the individuality of the Munich performers—and with what considerate good nature do they choose a tempo for the end of the finale to suit their cellist and double-bass-player—Marriner's do sound like bees in a bottle, rather. The Gounod is no less delightful, dapper but never driven, and with a particularly characterful flute in the andante cantabile and a horn with an agreeable rasp to it in the Scherzo. The closeness of the recording means that a few keyclicks are audible, but what of that?'