In considering the various available recordings of Peter and the Wolf, inspite of a good modern Telarc/Conifer CD version by Andre Previn and a surprisingly successful narration on a Philips LP by Terry Wogan, the catalogue has been dominated since the early 1970s by the marvellous story-telling of Sir Ralph Richardson, given an affectionately professional accompaniment by Sir Malcolm Sargent. Their Decca partnership in Prokofiev's orchestral folk-tale has recently been reissued on an aptly titled mid-price CD and tape called ''Children's Weekend'', including other well chosen repertoire, either for or about children (Bizet's Jeux d'enfants, Dukas's L'apprenti sorcier and Debussy's Children's Corner) and this (sounding marvellous) is one of the outstanding bargains on Decca's Weekend label ((Cassette) 421 626-4DC; (CD) 421 626-2DC—a recording which will be reviewed later).
The new digital recording from Sir John Gielgud is a natural successor to that of his illustrious late colleague and every bit as enjoyable. It has the advantage of a superb modern recording, with a dramatically wide dynamic range and glowing, sumptuous sound, made in the nicely judged resonance of EMI's Abbey Road No. 1 Studio. Sir John matches Sir Ralph's actor's feeling for the words and relishes their sound as well as their meaning. He immediately sets his personal stamp on the proceedings in the introduction by the use of the older pronunciation of the word clarinet—here it is ''clarionet''—and he also savours the sound of the bassoon. The portrayal of the wolf by the horns makes an ominously bold contrast and the volley of gunfire from the hunters is spectacular.
The story itself begins in an agreeably relaxed fashion, with delightful orchestral detail from the Academy players under the sympathetic direction of Richard Stamp. The entry of the cat is a delicious moment with Sir John clearly involved with the creature's slinky cunning. High drama arrives suddenly at the moment of danger for the bird (helped by the wide dynamic contrast of the recording) and later the superb climax where the wolf catches the duck has never been more tellingly brought off on record. There are fascinating parallels here with the trial and execution of Strauss's Till. The echo of the duck's theme on the plaintive oboe, when it is all too quickly a fait accompli, is wonderfully pathetic. But, of course, Peter, with the help of the bird, then catches the wolf. The final jaunty processional is a joy, the horns now gloriously resonant in Peter's tune, and the oboe daintily reassures the children that the duck is still in one piece. Sir John Gielgud then becomes Grandpa himself in the gentle moral questioning of Peter's bravado. It is all memorably full of atmosphere, and one has the impression of hearing Prokofiev's masterpiece for the first time.
By remarkably good fortune the coupled account of Saint-Saens's Le carnaval des animaux is equally successful. The whole performance has the breezy spontaneity of a live occasion and, again, the warmly resonant acoustics of the recording add to the feeling of atmosphere and sense of occasion. There are many touches of individuality: the ''Tortoises'' move their way through Saint-Saens's geriatric version of Offenbach's can-can with a dignified serenity; the ''Elephant'', represented by a solo double-bass, has an air almost of melancholy, while the ''Kangaroos'' hop jauntily and the ''Fossils'' dance with a percussive skeletonic clatter. There is a splendid clarinet solo here from Angela Malsbury and she also echoes the cuckoo's notes engagingly. The ''Pianists'' are suitably ponderous in their own self-parody, although perhaps they could have stumbled more convincingly. Their playing elsewhere has fine virtuosity and their bravura—with striking marcato articulation—helps to make the final parade really exhilarating. Some might feel the famous ''Swan'' cello solo is a shade too recessed but it makes the contrast with the finale which bursts in on the listener—the more effective.
Eine kleine Nachtmusik was a curious choice for the extra item. It is an agreeably direct performance, at its finest in the expressive Romance, but the Minuet and finale lack something in resilience and rhythmic lift. Nevertheless this record is indispensable for the two main pieces—there is certainly no more entertaining modern version of Le carnaval des animaux in the present catalogue. This recording will be in my ''Critics' Choice'' for Christmas.'