Prokofiev’s Symphony­Concerto (sometimes‚ less accurately‚ referred to as his Sinfonia Concertante) is a work that continues to divide critics and audiences. For some‚ it is the one true masterpiece of Prokofiev’s final years‚ years of failing health in which he struggled to come to terms with Socialist Realism in its most oppressive phase. For others‚ it remains problematic: over­long and overly reliant on the personal magnetism of Mstislav Rostropovich to carry it off. The great man’s recordings tend to flit in and out of the catalogue‚ but one or other of them is an essential purchase. Alexander Ivashkin’s impressive and wide­ranging CV already includes a vivid performance of the Cello Concerto Op 58 (Chandos‚ 7/01)‚ the starting point for the main work here. So it’s no surprise that he should prove an ardent and sensitive exponent of the piece in its definitive guise. When heard alongside the more fevered Rostropovich‚ his interpretation might seem a little cool at first. And yet his adoption of a more legato line seems to suit the first movement in particular – try the passage from 4'39" if you can. Polyansky and his orchestra have regularly partnered Ivashkin on disc‚ and their support is only occasionally undermined by poor wind and brass tuning: there’s a particularly strange mêlée in the lower wind parts of the final movement around 6'20". To be fair‚ the orchestra does offer some beautifully hushed playing‚ while Ivashkin’s purposefully linear way with the music is compelling throughout‚ though I could have done without the humming! The best modern alternatives couple the Myaskovsky Concerto. The aristocratic Pletnev curbs Maisky’s tendency to gush‚ while Mørk’s tendency to introspection is nicely offset by Paavo Järvi’s forthright conducting. Ivashkin himself might not be outclassed‚ but his recording has a much less attractive coupling in the form of Polyansky’s sometimes routine account of the Second Symphony‚ a piece of speculative 1920s modernism that has remained elusive both on disc and in the concert hall. The previous Chandos version from Järvi is by no means superseded: this one doesn’t go for the throat as much as it needs to‚ politely reining in the dissonances of the opening. That said‚ Polyansky does bring a sense of unity to the keenly felt climax at 9'53". He also gives a committed‚ if sometimes dogged‚ reading of the second movement‚ a haunting set of variations – the return to the main theme at the end is genuinely poignant. The recording is generally good‚ accommodating Prokofiev’s sonic explosions comfortably enough for all that the acoustics can turn cavernous (by 8'10" into the second movement‚ the band would appear to have retreated to the other end of an aircraft hangar). And be warned – there is only four seconds’ gap between the two works. Perhaps Chandos have missed a trick in not giving us a separate track for each variation. A bizarre pairing then‚ not without interest. But I would turn first to Ivashkin’s rewarding account of Op 58‚ a still less even‚ well­nigh unplayable score that few other cellists have even attempted.