This is the first 'authentic' Schubert symphony cycle past the finishing post—Norrington's series for EMI will, it seems, take a year or two to complete, and who knows what the next decade will produce? But are the much lauded advantages of period instruments in evidence here: the supposed enhancement of textural transparency, more sharply defined rhythms etc? The answer is yes, but not often enough.
The opening of the new Second Symphony should delight all but those with an incurable allergy to period performance: bright shafts of trumpet and flute tone, the unceasing thrill of sticks on skin of the timpani, with the flute down to the footlights for its trilling turns before the main allegro begins. Exactly the sort of curtain raiser one imagines the young Schubert might have contemplated. Again, how right the pared-down period sound seems for the slender Haydnesque theme and variations of the second movement—a movement whose grace eludes Karajan and Barenboim with the opulent tone of the Berlin Philharmonic on their complete sets (on EMI and CBS respectively).
The Second, Sixth and the Unfinished (which is yet to appear, coupled with the Rosamunde music, on a single disc) were the last to be recorded in Goodman's cycle, and benefit from sharper focus for the woodwind. Elsewhere the ample acoustic of All Saints', Tooting, while adding an agreeable warmth to the proceedings, often works against the kind of clarity one expects from a period band, with distant, and frequently masked, woodwind. The trio of the Great C major's scherzo, with its huge, wonderful melody for woodwind choir, for example, needs both strong projection of the woodwind colours and firmness for the string accompaniment or its loses its energy (not easy to achieve). It is often difficult to make out the exact contours of the melody in Goodman's version, let alone the individual voices. Turn to Norrington and the song and its accompaniment are in perfect proportion—the piece sounds so much more alive. There are countless other passages earlier on in the set where both acoustic and microphone balance contrive to deny us a satisfying interplay between woodwind and strings, or where one loses interest in the music because of inadequate prominence for the woodwind.
Comparisons with Norrington in the Unfinished are revealing. Here, as in the Ninth, Goodman prefers slower (more conventional) tempos. He certainly achieves greater mystery at the opening, and a smoother tone (and less jaunty manner) for the cellos in the second theme, but there is little tension at the start of the development. And the opening measures of the second movement are rather plainly stated, as are the four long notes on violins alone that introduce the second theme (at 1'50'' and 6'10''—one of Schubert's magical transitions where time, all too briefly, seems to stand still) and which are turned to such account in the coda. Norrington achieves more rapt pianissimos here, and better pointing of those unsettling accents throughout. His is the more challenging, and ultimately more interesting reading—Goodman rarely tells us anything new about this symphony.
I share RO's enthusiasm for the Third and Fifth Symphonies and value the spirited, festive exuberance of much of the playing, but would question whether this is the period cycle that, in a few years time, will most positively have grasped the advantages that 'original' instruments offer. Briefly auditioning the new Haydn symphonies that Goodman has recorded for Hyperion (see page 1667), with a much clearer, closer sound than Nimbus provide here, only adds to that worry. And if you are seeking a complete cycle now, I would have no hesitation in recommending the Gramophone Award-winning DG set from Abbado and the Chamber Orchestra of Europe (even though it costs more). It offers firmer tone and rhythmic definition of all string parts, and consistently featured woodwind.'