The clean-cut consistency of Mariss Jansons's approach to Tchaikovsky becomes ever plainer with each instalment of what is emerging as an outstanding series. His refreshing directness, his ability to draw the threads of argument together without the sort of expressive mouldings and distortions normal in Tchaikovsky in remarkable. Here again, as in the previously issued discs of No. 4 (ABRD1124, 7/85; CD CHAN8361, 9/85) and No. 5 (ABRD1111; CD CHAN8351, 3/85), he achieves that without any feeling of squareness or rigidity, and that perhaps is even more remarkable in this ever-imaginative but obviously less mature work. From first to last this is an electrically compelling, not so say exciting, performance.
Those who want above all an evocative experience based on that sub-title, Winter daydreams, and the titles of individual movements, will no doubt prefer Rostropovich's wilder, less controlled approach on his HMV version, now reissued on the mid-price Eminence label. Karajan's superb, high-powered version, currently available only as part of his two-LP set of the first three symphonies (415 024-1GX2, 10/85), is another formidable rival I have taken into account. However, even against such competition, Jansons and the Oslo orchestra emerge with glory, consistently sharper of focus with cleaner attack than Rostropovich and the LPO, more spaciously recorded than either with an open transparency of texture even in big tuttis that makes Karajan's DG recording sound congested and harsh by comparison.
It is true that Karajan as a supreme master makes the work seem bigger and more powerful than it is with moments of magic that have one open-mouthed—the intense mystery he conveys when in the finale the Andante lugubre returns is astonishing—but Jansons on his less magnificent scale still has one marvelling at the work's tuneful originality, not at its immaturity. The incisiveness of the first movement compensates for any lack of sheer power; the lyrical simplicity of the slow movement is disarmingly beautiful, leading to a gloriously resonant climax on the horn reprise, while the transparency of the central trio in the third movement makes it just as winning and more consistent than Karajan's delectable Viennese-waltz treatment. It is in the finale that Jansons gains most from adopting a basic Allegro maestoso faster than that of his rivals. In the difficult and complex fugato passages—where Rostropovich's LPO is strained beyond the limit—the challenge to the Oslo players at such a speed is superbly taken with clean articulation to match even that of Karajan's Berlin Philharmonic. And though the result is just as exciting as with the others, Jansons avoids the suspicion of brassy bombast. The recorded sound follows the pattern of the previous Oslo recordings, open and transparent against a warm background acoustic with the sweet and clear string sound not so immediate as in most modern recordings.'