Two ‘London’ Symphony recordings arrive emblazoned with icons of the city: Tower Bridge, largely obscured by Thomas Fey, and Parliament’s Elizabeth Tower, peeping out from behind a red letterbox. This latter appears to be the third volume of Bruno Weil’s traversal of the ‘London’ Symphonies with Cappella Coloniensis (the others hid Big Ben behind a red bus and a red phone box) and I’m sorry not to have caught up with them earlier: Weil has impressive credentials in Haydn, having recorded a number of the earlier symphonies for Sony Vivarte between 1992 and 1994, and turns in pleasing performances of the first three (as numbered) from Haydn’s second London visit. Tempi are brisk – the minuets are rather faster than allegretto or moderato – and the Cologne-based band (‘the first orchestra in the world to make music according to historical performance practices’, according to the booklet) displays admirable agility in all three symphonies. There are some pleasing touches, such as the string portamento in the Trio of No 99, and the Turkish percussion in the Military aren’t backwards in coming forwards. Perhaps the only disappointment is the finale of the Military, which closes the disc – a notch under the tempo of Fey and the other spot-comparisons I made (Davis, Hogwood, Minkowski, Fischer). I return regularly to Marc Minkowski’s big-band set of the ‘London’ Symphonies but Weil’s could become a viable alternative. Clearly aimed at the allemanophone market, the second disc contains a 37-minute lecture in German only from the conductor; perhaps with the appearance of the final volume the unfortunately named Ars Produktion might be prevailed upon to issue all four discs in a more export-friendly format.

Volume 21 of Fey’s cycle also alights on Nos 99 and 100 but instead of the Clock Symphony couples the Overture to the 1775 opera L’incontro improvviso, presumably to wring the most value out of the jingling Johnny. Followers of this series will know that I (and colleagues) blow hot and cold over Fey’s interventionist interpretations but I feel that he really hits his stride in these later works. The studio recording offers an extra degree of analytical presence than the concert conditions of Weil’s disc, with woodwind especially brought into closer focus. Fey is well aware that No 99 is the first Haydn symphony with clarinets and he lets them sing out whenever their part is exposed. Minuets follow Haydn’s tempo designations and Fey’s instinct to pull tempi about whenever he gets the chance is kept in check in these works. This is certainly one of the finest instalments in Fey’s cycle. All the same, on modern instruments, Colin Davis’s Concertgebouw recordings of the ‘London’ Symphonies remain unsurpassed in their warmth and humanity.