A distinguished Ninth; Hickox's new recording is a salutory reminder that a conventionally paced performance on modern instruments can be just as refreshing and dynamic as the most probing of today's 'historical' exercises—after going through several worthy but far from stirring modern offerings in recent months I was beginning to have my doubts, though Masur's Philips Ninth remains a favourite. Hickox doesn't include any of the textual discoveries featured in the Muti version (EMI, 1/89—part of a complete cycle), which is a pity, though hardly a major disaster; but his representation of the familiar score is purged of traditional accretions, and in matters of tempo relations, repeats etc., he's quite faithful. Indeed it's something of a surprise to hear the two principal themes of the Adagio at virtually the same speed: Beethoven's suggested increase (crotchet=60 to crotchet=63) is minute, but I think one ought to be aware of a very slight change of gear; Hickox's adjustment is perhaps a little too fine.
That, however, is the only place in my notes where I find anything approaching a significant reservation. Heather Harper's near miss on the final high B of the finale's last solo quartet is a little unfortunate, but it's entirely excusable after her rapt and shapely singing in the preceding passage. Indeed, the singing in general is first rate; the solo team is most impressive, both in consort and as individuals—Robert Tear's clarion-clear ''Froh, wie seine Sonnen fliegen'' is one of the highlights of the performance (I confess I'd never noticed the quaver rests before!), as is the chorus's massive yet mobile ''Seid umschlungen Millionen''. Impressive too is the way Hickox seems to coax the final B major solo quartet from the thunderous D major tutti that precedes it.
I mustn't neglect the orchestral contribution: the playing is taut and attentive, and many pages are surprisingly compelling—surprising that is for those who are hearing the work for the umpteenth time. The opening crescendos carry a considerable electric charge, and the Scherzo really springs into action, with well-marked and incisive timpani in the initial octave Fs. Only in the opening stages of the Adagio does Hickox's phrasing strike me as too smooth—normally his articulation shows considerable respect for smaller expressive details—but at least he keeps the music moving. His decision to use an orchestra ''of the same size as that used by Beethoven'' doesn't appear to have made much difference to the sound of the piece, except in so far as it allows the strings greater agility and clarity. The recording ensures that the horns, trumpets and timpani don't dominate, as well as preventing the spacious acoustic from muddying textures or details. I noticed one small technical blemish on my copy, at around 10'7'' in the Scherzo, where the sound seems to hiccup slightly (the time display continued as normal)—but it would be mean-spirited indeed to allow that to prevent a hearty recommendation.'