Telarc's Cleveland/Maazel coupling of Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition and Night on the Bare Mountain (11/84) was one of the great demonstration records of the early digital stereo era, and it still astonishes today. But with recent improvements in digital technology it was understandable that this famous label should want to try it again, although I was surprised to see the name of Michael Bishop as engineer on the credits instead of Jack Renner who masterminded the earlier version. They must have got together, however, for the results, if very similar, are even more impressive, the upper range freer and with better definition. So once again Telarc establish a position for this new CD as sonically the most spectacular set of Pictures among the many in the current catalogue. And it is a very fine performance too, Yoel Levi's most distinguished recording since he made his outstanding coupling of Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet Suites Nos. 1 and 2 in Cleveland (2/87).
The programme opens with Night on the Bare Mountain and as before the brass sound is special, with great richness and natural bite with no exaggeration. The performance is well paced and exciting. Perhaps Levi's evil spirits are not as satanic as some, but they certainly make an impact and the contrasting melancholy of the closing section is very touching, with the tolling bell nicely balanced and the clarinet solo poignantly taking over from the gently elegiac strings.
The characterization of Pictures at an Exhibition is no less successful, although it is an essentially mellower view than Sinopoli's highly praised DG version with the NYPO. This is a performance where throughout the conductor makes the most of the colour, and brilliant orchestral effects of Ravel's inspired score, revealing much that often goes unheard. The grotesquerie of ''Gnomus'' is not accentuated; but one greatly enjoys the attack of the lower strings which are very tangible indeed, and the ear revels in the panoply of detail from each section of the orchestra. A doleful bassoon introduces ''The Old Castle'' and the saxophone solo has a satin-like finish on the timbre to produce an elegant melancholy. The woodwind in ''Tuileries'' is gentle in its virtuosity; one can sense the children playing, for the colours are soft-hued. Levi holds back a little for the delicate string entry and the whole piece has a captivating lightness of touch. The tuba solo in ''Bydlo'' is distinctly mournful, and the ox-wagon trundles forward as if world-weary, but that doesn't prevent the climax, well laced with side-drum snares, from being powerful.
''The Unhatched Chicks'' bring another moment of great charm, opening their shells daintily, but producing enthusiastic chirruping in the middle section. The weight and tangibility of the strings is again striking in the portrait of Samuel Goldenberg, and there is a distinct Hebrew feeling in the flamboyant unison melody, while Schmuyle pleads his tricky trumpet triplets very earnestly. The ''Limoges Market'' sequence brings back the light, scherzando feeling of the ''Tuileries'' so that the opening of ''Catacombes'' is the more arresting with the rich brass chords given a sharp fortissimo introductory bite from the percussion. ''Baba-Yaga'' then makes a grand entrance, her music much less plangent than with Sinopoli, but again with the orchestral sounds tickling the ear—the lower strings and tuba, and percussion all making every possible effect. The contrasting middle section is mysteriously veiled, with the bassoon followed by the tuba articulating with unforced pointing. The reprise is dramatic and weighty and we are led naturally into the great finale, very grandiloquent, and the first big tutti (at 28'04'') is most exhilarating in its attack and amplitude, with the chorale on the woodwind then admirably catching the impression of a distant chant from the cathedral.
The final climax is unerringly built and at the very close the brass and strings produce an electrifying richness and weight of sound, to bring a frisson of excitement, with the tam-tam resounding clearly on the off-beat as in the earlier Cleveland version. Then there is silence, and out of it steals the exquisite opening of the Khovanschchina Prelude, with its poetic evocation of dawn over the Kremlin. Levi goes for atmosphere above all else and does not make too much of the climax (here for once the tam-tam is self-effacing), but the coda with its fragile woodwind halos is most delicately managed. In the main work Sinopoli and the New York Philharmonic Orchestra bring greater pungency and more fantasy to the pictorialization, and the DG sound is very fine too; but the Telarc disc remains a first choice if state-of-the-art recording is your prime consideration.'