Christoph König’s survey of the nine Beethoven symphonies (plus sundry overtures and Barry Cooper’s realisation of sketches for the Tenth) is quite likeable, all things considered. There are some extremely fine players in the Luxembourg-based Solistes Européens, particularly among the woodwinds, though I can’t say the orchestra are anywhere near the top tier, for far too often the strings appear thin-toned and ragged. The quality of the recorded sound is variable, too, presumably reflecting the fact that they were captured over the span of a decade. (The booklet gives no indication that they’re live recordings, and there’s no applause, but a few coughs and other aural artefacts suggest a concert performance.) And yet the best of these spirited, handsomely muscular and warm-hearted interpretations gave me considerable pleasure.

If you care to sample the set, I’d suggest skipping the First Symphony. Unaccountably soft-grained, with a restless slow movement and squarely phrased Menuetto, it comes to life only in the finale. The Second makes a more positive impression once one gets past the slow introduction, with its flattened dynamic contrasts, and into the Allegro con brio. Once there, König brings a real sense of drama to the music; the pauses crackle with anticipation, the themes are sharply characterised and everywhere the playing packs a playful punch. He hews close to the metronome markings in some movements but he doesn’t seem particularly consistent in this regard, and his lack of dogma is, frankly, refreshing. And when he does aim to hit the challengingly brisk markings, as in the Second’s lovely Larghetto, he still gives the phrases sufficient breathing room to bloom.

König and his Luxembourgers made a decent recording of the Eroica back in 2011 – cleverly coupled with a contemporaneous symphony by Méhul (Rubicon, 3/18) – and I prefer it to this 2018 remake, despite a significant improvement in sonic clarity. Tempos are on the brisk side in both, but this new version is often urgent to the point of breathlessness. The gut-wrenching tearing of gears at the first movement’s dramatic climax sounds merely efficient this time around (listen starting at 7'50"), and König underplays the cataclysm that follows the Funeral March’s fugal section (beginning at around 7'46"). In the Scherzo, the strings leave quite a few loose threads dangling, and there’s some scraggly playing early on in the finale as well.

If you want to hear König and his band hitting their stride, start with the Fourth. There’s ample mystery in the introductory Adagio, a fizzy Allegro vivace, exquisite wind solos in the slow movement and an impishly industrious finale. I do wish greater care was taken to observe piano markings in the various appearances of the second theme (initially at 0'30"), especially as there’s some highly effective quiet playing here and there in the set. Try, for example, at 4'25" in the Andante con moto of the Fifth, where the Luxembourgers create the most delicate and diaphanous pillow for the winds to float on. Indeed, although it takes a while to find its footing, the Fifth develops into a respectable performance. There are more cogent accounts of the opening movement, to be sure, but even if König’s reading adds some turbulence to the music’s unswerving trajectory, it eventually hits home with the requisite scatter of sparks. The horns’ fanfares in the Scherzo are rousingly lusty and there’s a real sense of celebration in the finale. Granted, König’s tempo in the latter is even faster than the metronome mark, so some of the playing is a scramble, and he forgoes the exposition repeat – who knows why – but what an exciting victory lap it is. Listen, say, to how the strings make their tremolandos bristle at 4'32", giving dimensionality and edge to a sound that normally blends into the background.

But to my ears the Sixth is the prize here. König goes for Beethoven’s spirited metronome marking in the first movement, yet because he phrases with the slow-changing harmonies rather than the bar lines, one feels buoyed by joyousness and not merely hustled along. His ‘Scene by the Brook’ is tender and dewy, with supple string-playing from a group whose modest tone allows lovely details to emerge – like the horn and bassoon’s shared countermelody at 5'33". Note, too, the violins’ marvellous fragility when they first intone the finale’s song of thanksgiving, and then to their profoundly touching sotto voce near the end.

The Seventh and Eighth are the kind of performances one might be happy to encounter in the concert hall, but aren’t so memorable as to inspire rehearing. On the positive side, there’s supple, shapely phrasing, a delight in the music’s harmonic legerdemain and a solid sense of line and architecture. But both performances also feature untidy playing and problems in orchestral balance exacerbated by an overly reverberant acoustic. Where, say, in the recapitulation of the first movement of the Eighth, did the tune (in the cellos, basses and bassoons) disappear to? Beethoven may whip up an enormous peak of F major to welcome back the opening melody after the hither and thither of the development section, but surely he didn’t mean to bury it. And while he may have been poking fun at Maelzel’s metronome in the Allegretto scherzando, he marked the relentless ticking of the woodwinds pianissimo so they wouldn’t dominate as they do rather relentlessly here.

As for the Ninth, König’s interpretation has me stymied. Is the first movement meant to sound so perky? There are arrestingly dark moments – the aching tug of the violins’s dissonant notes at 2'59", say – but mostly it’s disconcertingly sunny. I crave more weight and darkness from the strings in the Scherzo, too, particularly near the end (at 11'38"), and greater poise in the Adagio (why so chaotically breathless at 7'40"?). To be frank, the finale is a mess. The lower strings’ recitative is all over the place, the baritone soloist sounds seriously overparted, the tenor lags behind in the alla marcia and the fugue is a muddle.

The overtures are also a mixed bag, I’m afraid. Leonore No 3 and Fidelio are solidly played, though unremarkable; Coriolan is slack and never seems to be softer than mezzo-forte; Egmont is also unrelievedly loud but has some fire to it, at least. I’ve never found Barry Cooper’s realisation of the Tenth Symphony all that compelling and König’s account hasn’t changed my mind, though it’s reasonably well played. Honestly, having heard the set several times through now, the only performance I can imagine revisiting is the Sixth. There are dozens of Pastorals that are more beautifully played (and recorded), of course, but this one offers something special of its own.