Halasz's Mahler is of the straightforward, self-effacing variety, without grandiloquent gestures or huge weight of sonority. His intentions are probably similar to James Judd's in his recent full-price account of this fashionable (and possibly ill-advised) coupling. The difference is that Judd has had time to hone his interpretations so that they do not sound merely pale, while his balance engineers take care to achieve a consistently natural effect in an acoustically superior hall. If you must have DDD, but can only afford Naxos's asking price, there is little competition and, to be fair, Halasz is more successful here than he was with the Ninth (7/94).
The first movement receives a rather sluggish, literal reading, with horns emerging indistinctly from their backwater and rubato strictly rationed, but the Landler is spirited, with some genuinely Viennese touches in the trio. The third movement I found less acceptable: whether Hungarian or Jewish in inspiration, its very particular vocabulary is betrayed by the kind of inoffensive, under-inflected rendition offered here. The finale could also do with greater tonal clout and flexibility although its lyrical elements prove unexpectedly evocative, phrased with a care and sensibility not always in evidence elsewhere. It is here that one's perceptions are most affected by a programmed reinstatement of that discarded Blumine movement. While Collins Classics have recoupled Jacek Kaspszyk's unspectacular version of the main work with his Blumine, bargain-hunters should note that Rafael Kubelik's almost excessively detailed account of the symphony alone is again available. The generous makeweight there is a classic Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen with Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau. Analogue or not, Mahler has rarely been blessed with more distinguished advocacy. Naxos's disc is merely serviceable.'