The Vienna Philharmonic’s defiantly anachronistic attitude to the modern world has, notoriously, generated controversy on occasion. Their resistance to the general homogenization of orchestral sound is surely laudable however, and on this generously filled disc we are treated to an extended examination of those distinctive Viennese winds. Not for these players the usual safety-conscious, hi-tech approach. Instead we have small-bore, double piston horns and wide-bore oboes employing technology that dates essentially from the first half of the nineteenth century. This might seem like period performance in reverse – all these works, with the exception of the teenage First Horn Concerto, date from the 1940s – but this was after all the orchestra that gave the Salzburg premiere of the Second Horn Concerto under Karl Bohm in August 1943.
Curiously, Stephan Kohler’s booklet-note fails to mention this connection, perhaps mindful of stirring up other controversies (Gottfried von Freiburg, the orchestra’s evidently remarkable principal horn and the soloist then, saw out the Second World War in situ despite partly Jewish ancestry). On this occasion, Ronald Janezic proves an admirable successor, adopting a forthright approach and making light of the work’s daunting technical demands without quite matching the devil-may-care bravura of Dennis Brain’s celebrated recording. His colleague, Lars-Michael Stransky, is rather more introspective in the earlier concerto, exploring its lyrical possibilities and concurring with Previn’s somewhat pedestrian view of the coda to the finale.
A conductor with different priorities might also have tidied up some awkward corners in the Oboe Concerto. Here the spotlight falls on Martin Gabriel. His tone is bigger and more vibrant than some of his predecessors’ and, if lacking Lothar Koch’s “smooth and urbane” manner, itself not entirely to Michael Kennedy’s taste, he proves a charismatic, distinctly heroic protagonist. The Duett-Concertino comes across the more appealingly in Viennese tone colours, although I must confess to preferring Michael Werba’s swineherd to Peter Schmidl’s princess.
For the most part then this is beautifully natural music-making to contrast with the youthful thrust of the home-grown EMI Eminence collection cited above. Whatever the rival claims of Dresden and Berlin, there is usually some special alchemy when the VPO play Richard Strauss. And with Previn content to let the music speak for itself, many listeners will be happy with DG’s generous 77 minutes of alternative authenticism. While the accompanying notes are helpful, someone at the record company ought surely to have known where their recording of the Korngold Symphony was made – London not Vienna.'