The fact that Previn's name is not widely thought of in connection with either Brahms or sacred music makes his interest in the Brahms Requiem the more absorbing. In the event, his performance is one of the finest we have yet had on record. It is cast from strength (Price and Ramey are perhaps the finest soloists since Schwarzkopf and Fischer-Dieskau on the Klemperer/EMI), with a first-rate choir (the Ambrosian Singers vying, again, with Klemperer's Philharmonia Chorus), and eloquent orchestral playing from the RPO.
It is evident from his pacing, shaping and phrasing of the music that Previn knows the score from within and knows the pitfalls it presents. Nowhere is the music over-driven or over-indulged. Thepacing of the lyrical music is what we might expect of a judicious conductor in the slow movement of the B flat Piano Concerto; and when the music takes on a fierce, driven quality we are treated to the kind of tempos which would serve well in the ritornello of the D minor Piano Concerto. (Previn's careful handling of the orchestral writing brings instrumental parallels to mind time and time again.) In his control of the longer-term rhythmic units Previn is immensely assured: more so than Kegel on Capriccio and Sawallisch, good as he sometimes is, on Orfeo.
The Teldec recoring was made in July 1986 in All Saint's, Tooting in an acoustic that sheds a mellow light over string and wind detailing whilst giving a pleasing depth, not inconsistent with inner clarity, to the choir's endlessly distinguished contribution. Margaret Price, singing with heavenly assurance in ''Ihr habt nun Traurigkeit'' at a slower tempo than on her previous recording under Sawallish, has a slight edge about her tone but the recording is generally free of the unattractive sibilance that mars parts of the Kegel and Sawallisch recordings.
The Kegel version, like the Sawallisch, is not without its attractions. The Leipzig Radio Chorus have been carefully schooled; but, that said, Kegel lacks Previn's control of the long phrase and though he aims at high drama in the sixth movement (''Death, where is thy sting?'') he has none of the flair and technical control that enables Solti (Decca) to realize his conception so brilliantly. In this sixth movement, Previn, like Klemperer, takes a middle way between the fierce (Solti, Kegel) and the truculent (the newest Karajan on DG); and, like Klemperer, his readings of the great fugal perorations are splendidly paced: spaciousness and forward movement nicely matched.
Having the 1961 Klemperer recording on a single CD is certainly a great boon. The digital remastering has not entirely eliminated tape noise, but the engineers appear to have encountered fewer problems with the original tapes (some tight editing apart) than they did with, say, the Giulini Verdi Requiem (EMI) or the Britten War Requiem (Decca). Klemperer's stoic reading, clear-eyed and often quite quick, with its superb solo contribution from Fischer-Dieskau, takes us close to the work's emotional, theological and musical sources. It remains, with the 1948 Karajan recording (LP only, also on EMI) a uniquely revealing account of the work. Those seeking a more up-to-date recording would, none the less, be well advised to investigate the Previn, which comes on a single LP (a fine pressing, which needs to be played at quite a high level) or on two CDs offered at a specially discounted price. Previn may not be so electrifying at nodal points as Solti but his performance is sung, played, and conducted di cuore, from the heart, with love and understanding.'