Although not in favour of all-purpose reverberation, I wonder if EMI are taking a risk in presenting these pictorial scores with a clear, lean orchestral image. I mean no disrespect to Respighi in suggesting that the gripping spectacle of Feste Romane is best served by placing the 'listener' at the back of a theatre equipped with the latest in 'Cinemascope' technology. Certainly both Muti (also EMI) and Dutoit (Decca) in their recordings (both coupled with The Pines and The Fountains of Rome) have been treated to more spacious sound.
Be that as it may, if the effect is marginally less grand, there is a substantial gain in instrumental clarity. For example: the woodwind shrieks in ''Circenses'', the vivid bell sound at the end of ''The Jubilee'', the riotous percussion at the start of ''The Epiphany'', and the expertly calculated presence of the organ a little further on in the barrel-organ sequence. There is a faint electronic buzz in parts of ''The Jubilee'', but it is not seriously disturbing.
Jansons's performance of Fess Romane is a good one. Nobody sustains those thunderous opening chords in ''Circenses'' as powerfully as Muti, but Jansons is as exciting as any with the Oslo brass displaying a frenzied leonine ferocity in their combat with the martyrs. I liked the firm ringing tone of the Oslo horns as they usher in ''The October Festival'' (Jansons's bright swagger is marvellous here) and in their solos that precede the serenade you hear every note of those rising semiquavers, with the reduction of dynamics, as night falls, superbly achieved. The lovely mandolin serenade itself is sensitively done, and if Muti seems to distil the nocturnal mood with a more caressing style, it is probably the result of his more distantly positioned orchestra. I found Dutoit too loud for most of the markings in this movement. Jansons is slower than Muti in ''The Epiphany'' but its wild song and dance is characterized with just as much outrageous brio, and a degree more instrumental precision.
Jansons seems happier with the technicolor boldness of Feste Romane than classical fable evoked in the style of eighteenth-century French painting. The opening of Daphnis et Chloe is realized in primary colours; the rippling streams are memorable only for the over insistent swirling of the harp, the more subtle touches do not register—the celesta at the start and the soft brass at the peak of the first wave to name but two. Ecstasy and enchantment are only here sporadically, Ravel's wonderful score communicated as merely pretty. A far cry from Fremaux's recent recording (an all Ravel programme from Collins Classics) or Karajan's legendary 1964 account (on mid-price DG).
The sorcerer's apprentice is much more successful. Like Dutoit's recent Decca version, it is an affectionate and incisive reading which makes its considerable effect cumulatively. Levine (on DG) like Toscanini, is faster and more obviously exciting (their apprentices both doomed from the start), but as Levine unleashes his torrents even the Berlin Philharmonic can't get round all the notes, and a lot of Dukas's accents and tempo variations are swept away in the flood. Less forgiveable is the Berlin horn's late entry at fig. 3 that almost wrecks the initial spell. EMl's sound for Jansons is more natural than DG's for Levine.
The one consistent feature of this programme is the superb quality of the Oslo Philharmonic's playing. A whole hearted recommendation is prevented, though, by this indifferent Daphnis.'