This first issue in what Philips plan as a whole Elgar series from Previn and the RPO provides a most enticing start. I have not always found Previn so naturally attuned to Elgar, as he so clearly is to Walton and Vaughan Williams. His HMV version of the Enigma for example was thoughtful and strong (ASD3857, 4/80), but in places sounded too literal. Nothing of that surfaces in this superb reading, which is totally idiomatic in a way that was not true of Haitink's noble and spacious but sometimes square interpretation (also HMV). Much as I love the Solti/Decca version, for coming closest to Elgar's own recorded in its balancing of speeds and style, and delighted as I have been this time to find it sounding wonderfully full and fresh still, there are places where the rubato sounds as though it has been learnt rather than coming naturally. Previn shares with the other three in their often contrasted ways that almost indefinable feeling of rightness in the control of ebb and flow in tempo and phrasing, which comes from living closely with Elgar's music. Like Haitink in the first movement he has an Allegro marginally slower than Handley (Classics for Pleasure) or Boult (HMV) though not so slow as Barbirolli (EMI Eminence). Yet unlike Haitink his moulding of phrase and lifting of rhythm prevents the music from ever sounding too metrical, and his style of espressivo tends towards accelerando rather than tenuto, with basic speeds staying steadier than with most others. It is noticeable too that his emphases and liftings of rhythm rely much more on fractional anticipation rather than agogic hesitation, which again brings freshness and urgency, particularly when characteristically he relishes the almost jazzy syncopations that Elgar has in this movement and even more in the Scherzo, where Previn's reading swaggers superbly. The problem of the speed-change at fig. 17 in the first movement, never really sorted out, finds him—like Boult and Handley—taking the quicker view. Haitink sounds too broad, and though Solti follows Elgar himself as closely as possible, he still does not quite convey the composer's own total inevitability.
In the slow movement Previn follows that same pattern of expressiveness, flexible but not self-indulgent, and here even more clearly than in the first two movements one registers how his control of tension leads him to point Elgar climaxes with perfect timing on the moments of resolution, the moments which to a dyed-in-the-wool Elgarian bring a gulp in the throat. The Philips recording is refined and detailed, yet gives plenty of weight to big fortissimos. The transparency brings extra precision, so that even the loudest roaring of brass never grows coarse. That combination of power and refinement, both in the recording and in Previn's reading, finds its fulfilment above all in the finale. EMI have consistently preferred a beefier Elgar sound than this—witness the four HMV versions I have listed, all excellent for their periods—and the Decca sound for Solti is relatively sharp and bright, again matching the interpretation, but Previn without ever losing momentum brings home that Elgar's markings are often gentler than you would appreciate from records.
For me the key passage in the finale is where the development section relaxes into the augmentation of the main theme in minims, played by high violins, one of the loveliest passages in all Elgar and—though gentle—one of the most deeply emotional. It is there that Previn is supreme, even compared with my other five most cherished versions. Boult and Handley are surprisingly reticent, where Solti thrusts just a little too hard, not quite gentle enough. Barbirolli is the finest at that moment, yearningly understanding, but Previn matches him, judging the moment of fulfilment perfectly in a genuine frisson, and the extra refinement and transparency of the sound makes me now prefer the new version, which I cannot wait to hear on CD. After that the return of the great motto theme seems all the more grandioso (Elgar's marking) but without coarseness. Though Previn refuses to rush the stringendo at fig. 150, that consistent touch leads to a thrilling final coda, ripe with brass. There is not one of those five other versions that I would pass over, but Previn now has to be added to the list and even given priority, not just because of the CD option imminent.'