These are modern digital recordings made in Moscow in 1984 and on the evidence of this set the Moscow Philharmonic are a very impressive ensemble. While there is still the pungency of colouring that we expect from a Russian group, the brass are less blatant (though still forceful), than was once inevitable in the USSR, and the woodwind provide much delicacy of colour. The strings can produce a warm lower range—as in the lovely secondary melody of the first movement of the Third Symphony—with a passionately intense body of string tone. The opening of the slow movement of that same work brings a particularly sympathetic violin solo from the leader and to balance the passion of the climax there is a sense of moonlit nostalgia when Rachmaninov relaxes into a gentle mood. Dmitri Kitayenko—familiar from Sheffield Lab's ''The Moscow Sessions'', reviewed in February 1988—displays the most impressive feeling for the ebb and flow of this music. His rubato is always naturally spontaneous so that the ardour wells up and subsides thrillingly and touchingly.
The performance of the Second Symphony is quite superbly controlled and there are countless points of detail to give pleasure alongside the emotional satisfaction of the reading overall. The bold, full clarinet line at the opening of the Largo is particularly fine and the bite of the orchestral articulation in the scherzo (comparable with the fugato section of the finale of Symphony No. 3 which offers superbly clean ensemble) has great fervour as well as crispness of attack. In Symphony No. 1 Kitayenko displays the lightest rhythmic touch in the first movement allegro, while in the finale the famous brass fanfare (once used as a BBC TV signature tune) has never sounded more exhilaratingly brilliant. In all three works the key to one's enjoyment are the soaring string melodies which come from the heart, and here the Slavonic intensity of the playing (particularly in the slow movement of No. 2) is thrilling. Yet throughout all three symphonies the passionate element is set in perspective by a sense of fantasy and an underlying Slavic melancholy—both immediately striking at the very opening of No. 3. The wide range of emotional emphasis is another striking element and characteristically, the powerful emphatic coda of Symphony No. 1 is broadened so that its forcefulness has an air almost of desolation. The effect is less dramatic than with Ashkenazy, but not less telling.
Comparison with Ashkenazy on Decca brings a considerable affinity, with tempos often similar, but the Chant du Monde set is very much more Russian in feeling. It is, however, less completely satisfactory as a recording. While the sound is immensely vivid and very well detailed, with attractively transparent pianissimo textures, at fortissimo levels the massed violins above the stave become shrill under real pressure and this is a distinct drawback in music where the strings have such a dominating role. However, I found it most striking the first time and at subsequent listening my ear adjusted. It is important to get the volume setting right, for the dynamic range is wide and the lighting very bright. Ashkenazy's Decca set remains the safer recommendation, and it also includes the Youth Symphony. Comprising three mid-price CDs it is quite comparable in cost with the Russian recording on two premium-price discs. But Kitayenko's performances resonate in the memory.'