No-holds-barred playing from a virtuoso at the height of his powers. The Elgar is a real collector's item. Exuberant, big-hearted, reckless even, this is a larger-than-life performance from every point of view. The sheer sustained physicality of Rostropovich's contribution is remarkable (if, ultimately, a little exhausting) and his articulation in the Scherzo (taken at a cracking pace) is phenomenal. Which is absolutely not to imply that deeper emotions are shunned: in the Adagio, the nobility and intimacy of Rostropovich's phrasing make for a profoundly touching experience and he is just as successful in the poignant, half-lit reminiscence towards the end of the finale. Rozhdestvensky is a quick-witted, sympathetic partner in all of this, though the playing of the Moscow Philharmonic is not without its shaky moments. As for the remainder, Rostropovich's imperious display temporarily elevates the charming Respighi Adagio to 'minor masterpiece' status and much the same can be said of the Milhaud—the effect is rather less polished but infinitely more spirited and spontaneous than on his Erato re-make from a quarter of a century later. Surprisingly acceptable sound, with Slava's magnificent golden tone always effectively captured. A shame about the stingy playing time, though.'