Haitink, mainly with the Concertgebouw, has shown himself a deeply sympathetic conductor of French impressionist music, and here he directs the Boston Symphony Orchestra in a powerful reading of Ravel's great ballet score. It is one which, marked by extremes of speed and dynamics, brings out the richness of invention and the symphonic breadth of structure rather than its more atmospheric qualities. Speeds are generally spacious—at 58 minutes it spreads more luxuriantly than any other version I know—but such a brilliant display movement as the final ''Danse generale'' is taken just as challengingly fast as by Abbado or Dutoit (on DG and Decca respectively). The playing of the Boston orchestra is predictably superb, but Haitink's manner is noticeably more detached than that of the rivals listed above, with steadier as well as slower speeds, and less moulding of phrase. In such a passage as ''Danse grotesque de Dorcon'' Haitink makes the humour less obvious.
Though I confess I prefer a warmer, more atmospheric approach, some Ravelians will clearly respond very favourably to such a view, but what still prevents me from giving a very enthusiastic recommendation is the sound quality. Though the Philips engineers have produced some radiant recordings with this orchestra, this one seems curiously damped down. The level is relatively low, distancing the sound and allowing the instrumental ensemble less body and sense of presence than in any of the rivals, including notably the 1959 Monteux (recently issued by Decca at mid price). Even the Boston violins tend to sound scrawny—which in reality they are certainly not—and the feeling of a gauze over the sound diminishes its atmospheric qualities still further. Following closely on the rival PolyGram offering from Abbado, it cannot even compete on the question of coupling—Abbado generously has the Valses nobles et sentimentales—and the Philips tracking is adequate but not quite generous enough. On performance and even on sound I would still put Dutoit's early 1980s recording at the top of the list, but, being one of the earliest CDs, it has no separate tracks at all, while, if you can live with some tape-hiss, the Monteux still brings an astonishingly vivid experience, not just in the unique authority of the work's first interpreter but in the sound too; amazingly full and detailed by any standards.'