The first thing to say about these CD performances—to echo EG—is that they are very slow: 57 minutes for Symphony No. 1 compared with Boult's 48' 41'' (EMI) and Previn's 51' 41'' (Philips); nearly 62 minutes for No. 2, which is at least five longer than the previous slowest on record. It is too much. On the whole I don't object to slow tempos in elgar—after all, he did say he liked ''elastic'' performances, so presumably was prepared for some stretch—but there's no doubt here that these timings betoken indulgence and that Bryden Thomson's interpretations lack that sense of drive and impetuous energy which is as much a characteristic of the music as the withdrawn and solitary musings. Thus, the start of the Allegro in the first movement of Symphony No. 1 is not appassionato, and the opening of No. 2 does not spring headlong into life as it should. Again, in No. 1's first movement there is too much slowing-down at figs. 21 to 22 and at the end of this movement. Similarly, in No. 2 the build-up to the return of the first subject at fig. 42 is too deliberate and misses an element of surprise. Haitink on EMI does this better (but I begin to find that much-priased recording losing its appeal).
For combination of architecture and emotional flow, Boult's performance of No. 1 (and Barbirolli's, not yet available on CD) holds the field. Previn's is admirable in many ways, but in the long run I would, I think (pace eg), prefer Thomson's approach, tempos notwithstanding, because of his deeply-felt sympathy with the music. The playing of the LPO is beyond praise and the attention to the myriad details of the scores of both works will supply revelations to the most ardent Elgarians. Listen for the little grace-notes on the violas four bars before fig. 38 in the first movement of Symphony No. 1, for example; how beautifully balanced is the solo oboe with strings and the other winds in the Larghetto of No. 2; what lovely playing by the solo violin at fig. 28 in the first movement of No. 2; and I could go on, noting also, for instance, the remarkable vibrato and glissando—both specified—at the climax (fig. 86) of the Larghetto of No. 2.
The above implies, of course, exceptionally clear and faithful recording. Perhaps All Saints, Tooting, is, as EG pointed out in his review of the LPs, an over-resonant acoustic, but I must say it is thrilling to hear brass with such a ripe ring and to hear the woodwind solos coming so clearly through the texture.'