Mariss Jansons crowns his magnetically compelling Tchaikovsky series with an account of the last and deepest of the sumphonies which in every way confirms the high opinions expressed of earlier issues. The Little Russian Symphony (No. 2) and Manfred remain to be issued, but there is no series of these much-recorded works quite so satisfying as this, at once refreshing and new-minded, yet idiomatically Russian too. Fine as Batiz's strong and extrovert new version is, it does not have the individuality which now firmly places Jansons's Chandos version alongside the Decca issue of Ashkenazy, electrifying and intense as that is.
At the very start of the introduction Janson is both slower and more hushed than his rivals, yet more concentrated too. The gravity of the argument is established in a way that makes Batiz, for example, seem relatively casual. His timing of pauses between sections, often daringly long, adds to the concentration, and though no one is lighter in the main theme of the Allegro, his underlining of the hairpin markings on the first two fragmentary phrases gives extra purpose. As for the great melody of the second subject, it is warm and passionate yet totally unsentimental with rubato barely noticeable, when it sounds so natural. From then on the build-up between climaxes, the terracing of tensions towards the final culmination, is unerring, and it is that same quality in the slow finale, with the big second-subject melody noble and restrained at the start then building unhysterically with enormous power, which confirms my preference for this even over Ashkenazy, particularly when the digital recording, warm and spacious in the Oslo manner, has to be preferred over the Decca analogue. In the 5/4 movement Jansons is brisker than Ashkenazy, pointing rhythms even more lightly, and it is only in the third movement waltz that Jansons's very fast speed—marginally faster even than Ashkenazy—might be counted controversial, stretching the fine Oslo players to the very limit. Yet the exhilaration from cutting loose like that is hard to resist.
In that movement Batiz at a less hectic speed allows for more swagger in the march, and the recording quality is second to none with brass blazing superbly. The LPO's playing is first rate, yet too often next to the others this reading sounds just a little matter-of-fact with less of an illusion of live performance. For its fine feeling of presence and vivid immediacy the Oslo recording becomes a clear first choice and I now look forward to the Chandos CD, not to mention the remaining issues in Jansons's Tchaikovsky series.'