From these two recordings of Respighi's Roman trilogy there is a clear first choice. Yan Pascal Tortelier secures consistently polished playing from the Philharmonia Orchestra and the music's main pictorial details emerge quite evocatively, from the turning of the Triton fountain to the nocturnal scene of Janiculum pines. The recording, too, is warm and evocative. But the acoustics of All Saints, Tooting tend to smooth everything over (the Roman Festivals needs a gaudier effect and more bite) and Tortelier's easygoing, affectionate manner does not create a compensating electricity.
When one turns to Marriner one finds not only more underlying tension in the playing, especially in the many gently alluring pianissimos, but stronger characterization, too. Perhaps his rhythmic sense in the opening ''Pines of the Villa Borghese'' is a shade metrical, but a lift is imparted to the music, and the atmospheric central movements have such a lovely radiance that one is not a bit surprised the nightingale feels the need to respond to the beauty of the evening. Then the beginning of the closing ''Pines of the Appian Way'' has a darkly sinister anticipation of the juggernaut approach of a Roman military machine. Similarly, the picturesque Fountains all spring to watery life, with detail beautifully observed and naturally revealed by the excellent Philips recording (made in Watford Town Hall), the resonance nicely controlled. Perhaps the climax of the ''Triton Fountain'' sequence, with its great processional, could have more weight.
However, this is a minor criticism and in Roman Festivals, which can often merely sound noisy, and where Tortelier perhaps overdoes the refinement, Marriner finds a nice balance between pictorial vividness and brashness. The gentle opening of the second movement (''Il giubileo'') is quite eerie; later the bells toll arrestingly and in the closing Twelfth Night celebrations of Epiphany (''La befana'') with its mixture of wildness and jubilation, Marriner catches the popular clamour exhilaratingly without becoming riotously vulgar; and there is certainly no lack of impetus at the bizarre and almost Berliozian closing sequence of the work. Turning to Dutoit, one finds an even greater edge of brilliance, emphasized by the microphone placing of the Decca engineers, and the acoustics of St Eustache, Montreal combine glitter and translucence. The performances are equally fine, too, and so of course are those by Muti (EMI) and Ormandy (RCA), though the Philadelphia recording venue brings more garishness in both instances. There is superb orchestral virtuosity to be heard on both discs, although Muti is marginally less unbuttoned than Ormandy who positively revels in the flashy possibilities of the all-out bravura in these scores.'