Sir Simon Rattle and his admirable Birmingham group give us perhaps the most meticulously prepared and subtly blended Falstaff ever committed to disc. This conductor's keen intellect and almost fanatical fidelity to the letter of the score team up to produce the most invigorating, wittily observant results—I doubt whether the inner workings of Elgar's magnificent orchestration have ever been more cogently laid out before us. Indeed, revelatory touches in texture and dynamic abound: note those wonderfully bloated tuba sforzandos beginning at fig. 73 (track 19, from 11'51'') as the boastful Sir John drifts into drunken slumber; the almost balletic bounce and spring of those violin and viola triplets as Falstaff leads his scarecrow army into action (track 21, at 0'13'' and again a few bars later at 0'31''); the dazzling unanimity of flying CBSO strings from fig. 122 onwards (track 23, 1'39''), to say nothing of the iron grip Rattle evinces in the measures which immediately ensue (Elgar's two animato interjections are managed to perfection); and I could go on, believe me.
No grumbles, certainly, about either of the two dream interludes: the first, featuring an appealingly full-throated double-bassoon at the outset and some affectingly tender work from CBSO leader Peter Thomas, is especially enchanting. There is orchestral playing of real delicacy, too, in the heart-breaking closing pages, though here Rattle's masterful control of dynamics can occasionally verge on the self-conscious; that lump-in-the-throat final reminiscence of the Prince Hal theme somehow just isn't terribly moving. Therein lies my only niggling qualm: listening to this extraordinarily accomplished newcomer is a bit like viewing a pristinely restored portrait of Shakespeare's fat knight, whereas Barbirolli presents us with the lovable, vulnerable creature of flesh and blood himself—his epilogue really does touch to the marrow every time. In other words, whilst Rattle's is a supremely intelligent interpretation that all Elgarians should try and hear, it is just a little lacking in spontaneity and sheer symphonic thrust. As things stand, I'm not sure it's a Falstaff I could ever really take to my heart in the same way as those from the likes of Barbirolli, Handley or (of course) the composer himself.
Happily, the whiff of calculation is altogether less detectable during Rattle's Enigma. Aided (once again) by a highly responsive CBSO, the results are always enjoyable and refreshing, with myriad details in Elgar's lovingly-woven orchestral canvas adroitly pinpointed (Downes's BBC PO version, too, is especially strong in this regard). The sluggishness that so often blights the opening bars is mercifully absent and Rattle follows it up with a wonderfully transparent and affectionate ''C. A. E.''. Rattle brings an almost chamber-like intimacy and point to ''R. B. T.'', ''Ysobel'' and ''W. N.'', whilst his ''Dorabella'' is a veritable miracle of tripping delicacy. Equally, I revelled in the exhilarating punch and clean-limbed virtuosity of the more extrovert numbers: both ''Troyte'' and ''G. R. S.'' winningly combine athleticism and bluster. ''Nimrod'', too, is a success, its progress dignified and its noble climax unerringly well graduated (and, yes, we really do get a genuine ppp at the start). Overall, then, a fine, deeply-felt Enigma: all that is missing, perhaps, is that last ounce of sheer humanity and wholehearted fervour of my long-standing favourites listed above.
For my money, the most completely successful item here comprises the glorious Grania and Diarmid incidental music: the magnificent ''Funeral March'' in particular has always struck me as one of Elgar's most inspired creations and Rattle gauges its brooding melancholy most eloquently. Both Enigma and Grania were recorded at Symphony Hall, Birmingham in August 1993, some 16 months after Falstaff which emanates from Warwick University's Butterworth Hall. Balance is impeccable (and the transfer-level comparatively low) in all three works, though the quality in Falstaff isn't quite as rich and glowing as elsewhere. An exceedingly stimulating Elgar release. Do try and sample it for yourself.'