Whether or not the music of Mieczysław Weinberg makes further inroads in terms of actual performance, his recorded representation shows little sign of slackening. These two releases from Dux are indicative of the renewed interest the country of his birth now takes in his legacy.

The first features two of his symphonies for strings, the Second (1946) arguably the finest of the three from the 1940s in its lucidly Classical outline and deft interplay of motion across three movements featuring almost no fast tempos as such. Anna Duczmal-Mróz proves no less adept than Mirga GraŽinytė-Tyla in long-term formal control, her more demonstrative handling of what sounds a larger string group aligning it more closely with Weinberg’s early maturity than the valedictory music of his last years. The Seventh (1964) similarly emerges as weightier and more imposing than Thord Svedlund’s lithe and incisive reading, the three central movements no less crucial to its cumulative impact than those either side. Dorota Frąckowiak-Kapała dispatches the concertante harpsichord part with manifest assurance.

The other release is spread over two discs, of which the second features just two short works. Duczmal-Mróz secures greater emotional import than Gabriel Chmura from the increasingly oblique trajectory of the Second Sinfonietta (1960), with Łucasz Dugosz a more animated soloist than Anders Jonhall in the original orchestral version of the Second Flute Concerto (1987), which is much the most ingratiating of Weinberg’s late works. As regards the two chamber symphonies, the Second (also 1987) is likewise conceived on a bigger scale than that from Kremerata Baltica – the initial Allegro having a propulsive energy that carries through to the sombre central movement, before the finale Andante withholds any semblance of resolution until the very close. Duczmal-Mróz favours a broader approach than GraŽinytė-Tyla in the desolate opening Lento of the Fourth (1992); timings thereafter are similar but clarinettist Kornel Wolak is slightly more attuned than Mate Bekavac to the klezmer-infused obbligato that comes to the fore as the final Andantino progresses uncertainly towards benediction.

Anyone who has the comparisons listed (not forgetting intermittently available Melodiya recordings by Rudolf Barshai of the Second Sinfonietta and Seventh Symphony or Svedlund in the Second Symphony and chamber symphonies on Alto) need not rush to acquire these discs. Those who do will not feel short-changed by the emotive force of Duczmal-Mróz, continuing from her fine account of the Tenth Symphony (CPO) in reaffirming her Weinberg credentials.