Despite my reservations about his recent Don Giovanni which I reviewed in October, let me say without more ado that Karajan's live DG recording of The Creation is quite the most consistently inspired I know. Those who boast a smaller orchestra and closer textual fidelity must prove themselves equal to the sheer excitement of the Vienna Philharmonic's playing, the instinctive pacing and power of his drama, and the kaleidoscopic recorded sound. What is more, if authenticity be the question, then Karajan can, in a way, claim to be the most authentic of them all: the first performance in March 1799 at the Vienna Burg-theater was given with an orchestra of over 100 players, and was greeted with near-hysterical admiration.
But to turn to authenticity as it is more commonly recognized. Harnoncourt has painstakingly recreated the same orchestral line-up as that which he feels was most frequently used in Haydn's day: the 43 - string orchestra used at the Tonkunstler-Societat concerts, and the fortepiano used in performances after 1800. Kuijken (Accent), for the record, mentions as a precedent the famous 1808 Vienna University performance with 55-strong orchestra and fortepiano: in practice he uses 26 strings and harpsichord, with transverse flutes which make all the difference particularly in the pastoral at the oxen's birth. He, too, has a nice touch of oneupmanship in authenticity: at the ''Representation of Chaos'', a thunderstorm hits the glass roof of the Liege Conservatoire in which his live performance was recorded.
Back to Harnoncourt. His principal claim lies in the scrupulous use of the first printed edition of 1800 which was supervised by Haydn himself. Here minor details are observed, like the distinction between short and broad staccato, the shortening of bass notes in recitative, the single bass line which buoys up the whales; and, fleetingly, but most affectingly of all, the quiet singalong of Raphael with the chorus in ''Und der Geist Gottes schwebte auf Flache der Wasser''.
These observations are far from academic: they do animate orchestral playing of most perceptive pointing, great vigour and typically Harnoncourtian rhythmic acuity. For effortlessly lively sprung rhythms and a sense of flexibility which releases humour as well as excitement, one must turn to Marriner (Philips). Harnoncourt may at times be too insistent for some tastes, particularly in the touch of stiffness in the contrapuntal choruses; though Edwin Ortner's splendid Arnold Schonberg Choir separate and mould their parts with great care and beauty. While Kuijken's ''Representation of Chaos'' is uniquely evocative in its hollow timpani, its gurgling, primeval woodwind and its small body of strings hyper-busy in the activity of the creative God, there are distracting examples of over-phrasing in his accompaniment.
It is Harnoncourt's attention to recitative which is one of the performance's strongest recommendations. Not only is it sheer delight to hear at last the sweetness of the fortepiano, but Herbert Tachezi's timing and colouring of the strong, purposeful recitatives is untiringly imaginative: the brief twinkle of notes after ''Er machte die Sterne'', the harp-like echo on the fifth day, the wit in every cadence.
Harnoncourt scores most highly of all on his soloists. While Karajan's, for all their conviction, belong to the world of opera (Mathis, Araiza and van Dam), and Kuijken's (Laki, Mackie, Huttenlocher) to the world of aether (one can never quite believe that paradise was ever lost for this trio of archangels), Harnoncourt's like Marriner's (Mathis, Baldin, Fischer-Dieskau), have just the right weight of voice, a fresh flexibility in ensemble and, at last, full human engagement.
Holl's Raphael may not achieve quite the onomatopoeic brilliance of Fischer-Dieskau; but he, too, is at once man and God, awe-full and authoritative. His is a vocally panoramic view of the creation of sea and land, and a chilling evocation of the withdrawal of breath and spirit. Protschka enters, almost tremulous with joy, propelling ahead the creation, as an Uriel glad to be alive and part of it all. Listen to the excitement of his ''der erste Tag entstand'', and the lunar beauty of his moon music. Gruberova takes more care with Gabriel's phrasing and inflection than either Laki or Mathis, without losing the radiant purity of the first or the womanly heroism of the second.
A well-balanced performance, then, truthfully recorded, with the life of live performance excluding extraneous noise. It is properly poised between the spiritual heaven of Kuijken and the opulent, abundant earth of Karajan. It even passes the final litmus test: of all four recordings, Harnoncourt's is the one which, at the start of Part 3, brings us nearest to the world of the reunited Pamina and Tamino.'