''I deeply loathe it... the finale in particular is something deadly.'' You and I probably feel differently. Tchaikovsky originally felt it to be ''the best of my symphonic compositions'', and though he finally refused Manfred admittance to his canon of numbered symphonies, most conductors (Karajan, sadly, an exception) include it in their complete cycles. Some have been inclined to tinker, for instance: Jansons and Toscanini periodically pep up the orchestration; and the latter made huge cuts, as did Temirkanov (et tu, Brute?) in a 1992 Prom concert—and how!—dispensing with the Symphony's last three minutes, and in so doing, depriving the Albert Hall organ of a star turn, and Tchaikovsky's Manfred of redemption. Marriner gives us the unexpurgated, unadorned notes, beautifully balanced (I can't remember hearing so many of them so often) with respectfully chosen tempos, mostly close to the metronome marks, and a spruce, tempered orchestral sound. An agile, aerial Scherzo is just one reminder of the Academy's past triumphs. But did lack of rehearsal/recording time account for the indefinite start to the Trio's melody at 2'45''? And the unsteady trumpets for Manfred's theme's fff entry in the first movement at 5'01''? Small points, though, and not generally characteristic.
More generally characteristic is the reading's relative lack of fire and fantasy—and scale. After the clearly perceived Alpine reaches of the comparably sober Haitink (Philips, 6/84—nla, a reissue soon please), Marriner's Manfred might be wandering on the South Downs. And I would willingly forego a degree of Marriner's refinement for the excitable, uninhibited Maazel, but more especially for his VPO's inimitable (nay, unforgettable) brass, rustic reeds, and his exploratory Decca engineering. Then there is Jansons: a reading of staggering rhythmic precision, drive and drama.
All of the above benefit from more spacious, atmospheric recorded sound than Marriner, whose Capriccio balance is unimpeachable, but its very clarity and relative proximity alert you to the fact that the third movement's bell is just a tubular bell on the platform, Astarte's harp flourishes are just harp flourishes, and the gong player does a jolly good job of silencing his gong on cue. The Marche slave is weighty, measured and seriously pompous.'