These were two of Sir Thomas Beecham's favourite symphonies, and I can well imagine him cocking an approving ear towards these performances, from his eyrie on Mount Olympus. (The Muses have declared it a no-smoking zone, but I am told he still enjoys an occasional cigar.) Note for note this is probably – dare I say it? – a better played performance than Beecham's own 1951 recording of the Eighth which was so diligently assembled over a period of several months in two separate halls. (The Beecham Edition CD reissue, 7/90, is, alas, no longer available.) Where the earlier performance had the edge over this in many ways admirable newer one was in an added litheness of attack, the symphony's seemingly endless succession of vertically stressed chords more lightly sounded, more deftly sprung.
That said, James Lockhart's conducting is further proof of the old adage that there is no better place to learn the conductor's craft than in the opera house. Not only are these finely articulated performances, they also have the merit of being wonderfully well phrased and timed. They are performances you could probably choreograph and certainly sing to, the music's symphonic and dramatic elements held in the nicest possible poise. Tempos are always broad enough to allow the music time to breathe, urgent enough to activate its potential as musical theatre.
The recording has air around it, yet every section of the orchestra presents itself to us with admirable directness and immediacy. Once or twice the merest hint of a disrupted pulse suggests a slightly chancy mixing of takes. In most respects, though, this could be counted a worthwhile record at a far higher price than the one currently being asked.'