When it comes to reviewing vintage live per- formances, ‘being there’ can occasionally cloud one’s judgement. However, in the case of Yevgeny Svetlanov’s 1968 Proms performance of Le Poème de l’extase with the USSR State SO a return visit via CD really did recapture the thrill of the moment, not least in a roar of audience approval that I can recall was a communal catharsis. What a performance it was: driven, passionate, considered in detail and with that long, aching pause before the final drive home to triumphant C major. As David Patmore suggests in his excellent note for BBC Legends, Svetlanov was taking a lead from his idol Nikolai Golovanov, though both sound and playing are far finer than on Golovanov’s thrilling but raucous old Melodiya LP. Amazing how the passage of time saw Svetlanov broaden his pacing, by a full five minutes or more in January 2001 (the Proms reading runs to 20 minutes), this time with the Orchestre National de France. Svetlanov’s Paris Scriabin is more refined in execution, more prone to highlight contrasts between thrust and repose, and certainly more sensual. But the impetus has weakened and the outstretched final chord – built in principle as a vast crescendo – is less well sustained. And yet there is plenty to relish: felicitous solos, views from behind solo instruments where you gain the feeling of genuine perspective (especially in terms of lower winds and brass) and of course vastly superior sound – though the Legends stereo/analogue transfer is surprisingly good.

Svetlanov’s view of La mer, once wittily retitled by Stephen Johnson as ‘Le Lac’ (in response to an earlier Philharmonia recording for Collins), is conspicuously lacking in salt and sea spray, though the closing ‘Dialogue du vent et de la mer’ suggests the weight of an ocean. Best, perhaps, is the central ‘Jeux de vagues’ which is detailed, mobile and relatively relaxed. But the opening movement is just too slow, ravishing in parts for sure, but without a crucial sense of line that (for example) Celibidache achieved in his various performances.

The BBC’s make-weights are more engaging. Golovanov is again recalled in Scheherazade where in the ‘Festival at Baghdad’ Svetlanov drives fast and hard and the LSO for the most part keep up the pace. ‘The Sea and Sinbad’s Ship’ and ‘The Young Prince and Princess’ are rich in piquant detail, with John Geordiadis always a seductive soloist. Svetlanov plays up the drama of ‘The Kalender Prince’ – there are some riveting brass interjections – and I loved the jaunty gait of the Malda ‘Procession of the Nobles’, though percussion are far too prominent.

In the case of Svetlanov’s 1980 set of Respighi’s Roman Trilogy (previously out on Melodiya and Olympia), the brass are the culprits, often drowning everyone else out of earshot. But again the performances have great drive and character, the Fountains lavish in expressive gesture, Roman Festivals strong on cinematic asides, particularly for the closing ‘La Befana’ which receives a performances that easily rates alongside Ormandy or Mehta. The real surprise comes with The Pines of Rome and an epic journey along ‘The Pines of the Appian’, seven minutes sustained with patience and an impressive sense of architecture. Not the ultimate in hi-fi, admittedly (being both live and rather crudely recorded) but in more than adequate sound – much as it was on previous discs.

The Balakirev reissue on Regis justifies a more general recommendation, the delightful First Symphony, spirited and imaginatively shaped. The Andante’s heartfelt principal climax (at around 9'30") vies with Borodin’s in the parallel movement of his Second for warmth and I have never heard a more keenly pointed account of Russia. Best known is Tamara, and again Svetlanov’s sense of musical narrative – a quality that generously informs all four of these CDs – enriches a performance where at the very least listener involvement is guaranteed. Definitely one to go back to.