Issues that prove, if further proof were still needed, that, in our times, the difference between the recognized 'great' orchestras and the less prestigious ensembles has—on disc at any rate—almost ceased to exist. On this showing, the 1993 standards of tone, ensemble and overall finish in Atlanta are more consistently reliable than those of 1955 Boston. There are exceptions, of course: the Atlanta horns are not always secure of pitch (notably at the start of the Pavane); and in Boston, despite some suspect woodwind intonation (Chloe's ''Dance of Supplication'' and Lyceion's clarinets, indeed, Munch's Lyceion is altogether a very flustered and unseductive lady), there are always moments of real pedigree playing that take the breath away (trumpets in Munch's ''Danse generale'' at 1'10'').
However, in matters of pacing Munch and Levi are poles apart, with the latter taking almost four minutes longer overall. As early as the ''Danse religieuse'', from Munch there is a mobile Modere (Ravel's marking) and a perceptible urging; and from Levi a very slow, reverential Andante, composed and watchfully shaded and balanced; it is rare to hear the important woodwind lines (around 7'27'') leading to the climax (figs. 13-14) as clearly as this. But it isn't long before Levi's extremes, particularly his slow transitions from one number to the next, take their toll on the performance's general level of tension and continuity; for example, after the pirates' ''Danse guerriere'' (itself launched at such a lick that it is difficult for Levi to observe fully Ravel's increases of tempo), there is a huge pause, and a winding down to Chloe's ''Dance of Supplication'' at virtually half the score's tempo indications. In his hands, this passage is devoid of any dramatic import or musical shape. When you eventually arrive at Chloe's Dance, it too is very slow, with little made of the rallentandos Ravel marks in every other bar.
Telarc's sound for Levi has a huge dynamic range, similar to the recent Abbado, Rattle and Nagano recordings (and far wider than the 1955 Munch, 1959 Monteux and 1980 Dutoit discs), offering a distant, rather flat image—one of almost puritanical concert-hall realism, with no attempt made to realize the score's stage directions for the chorus. Monteux's (Culshaw produced) pp opening is, in fact, a mp, but the instant that his properly distant chorus is heard, you are spellbound. Munch's (Pfeiffer produced) recording has, like the Telarc, a fixed location for the chorus, but more orchestral presence and detail, and thus more general allure. You need only compare Munch and Levi at the start of the ''Daybreak'' sequence to realize how uninformative the Telarc sound can be.
Munch's Daphnis is not new to CD. It was welcomed by RL in December 1991 (still available on GD60469) where it was coupled with Munch's equally desirable 1952 recording of the second suite from Roussel's Bacchus et Ariane—omitted from this reissue for obvious reasons (it was only in 'Living Mono'). I was hoping for a transformation similar to that which this mid-price series has brought to Reiner's contemporary Bartok Concerto for Orchestra, but no, this Living Stereo Munch Daphnis is identical in sound to its previous Gold Seal self. However, as RL pointed out, the transfer is an excellent one, and it is important that Munch's Daphnis remains in the catalogue; Munch, along with Dutoit, Boulez, Ansermet and, most of all, Monteux, understood the dangers of lingering in this score; of sentiment turning into syrup; and of Ravel's ''Choreographic Symphony'' (his own term) falling apart. In comparing Munch with Monteux, RL ''succumbed more readily to the heady intoxication, the dazzling richness of colour and virtuosity'' of the Munch. My own leanings are towards Monteux: a balletic poise and rhythmic suppleness which, more than any other recording, translates the danced drama into sound; a few inspired amendments to the score; an unrivalled vibrancy and lucidity of texture; engineering and production that relate all this with complete clarity and also imaginatively explore the score's spatial possibilities; and in the final bars, Monteux encouraging his chorus to properly articulate the grace notes on their final shouts—a more wondrous, hair-raising sound you are unlikely to hear in a lifetime of recorded Daphnis et Chloes. Monteux's mid-price disc also includes an equally essential Pavane and a fine Rapsodie Espagnole.'