Zuill Bailey is a class act, as anyone who has investigated his recordings of the Korngold and Dvořák cello concertos (ASV, now Regis, 11/03^R; Telarc, 5/12) will already have discovered, and his alliance with Krzysztof Urban´ski and the Indianapolis SO in the Elgar has much to commend it. This is a real, breathing performance excitingly caught on the wing and entirely devoid of flashy thrills and spills – I warm to its keen sincerity, unvarnished honesty and total lack of mannerism. Bailey, too, is such an articulate, selfless and communicative musician that no one could fail to derive pleasure from the finished article. If I’m being honest, there isn’t quite the same sense of infectious teamwork, tumbling fantasy or canny instinct that marks out the recent Paul Watkins account (Chandos, 7/12); nor is the rather cramped recorded sound to my liking. Still, Bailey’s heartfelt interpretation surely merits the enthusiastic reception it gets from the auditorium and undoubtedly represents another notable addition to the concerto’s dauntingly crowded discography.

Turning to the somewhat odd coupling, Urbanski gives us the first three tone-poems from Smetana’s Má vlast as a concert sequence (or at least the applause which greets ‘Šárka’ would seem to suggest as much). There’s no shortage of intelligent observation, expressive fibre or red-blooded drama (indeed, the impulsive attacca plunge into ‘Šárka’ is highly effective, as is its savage denouement), and I do appreciate the songful ardour the young Polish conductor draws from his Indianapolis strings throughout, but the later stages of ‘Vltava’ never quite come to the boil and the comparatively airless acoustic is unappealing too – no match, certainly, for Kubelík’s thrillingly perceptive and tangily characterful live renderings from May 1984 with the Bavarian RSO on Orfeo (5/85), still my own ‘go to’ Má vlast.