A certain amount of interpretative freedom is desirable in these dances, if not essential. Jarvi is, of course, a master of the flexible pulse, and I'm sure I'm not the first to remark on his ability to make the whole orchestra appear to extemporize as one—the middle section of No. 11, for example, where the melody, like a solo cadenza, seems to float independently of the bar lines. However, the teasing 'what is he going to do next?' approach to tempo in No. 6 is surely too much of a good thing; the dance has a spasmodic quality that is exhausting to follow. But, what worries me most about Jarvi's set is the often bulky, rather blatant tutti sound (brass are more prominent than on rival versions) and I wonder if the ample ambience of St Jude's Church in north London constrained the performers from letting rip in the vivaces. The front cover of this disc sports a painting of two Hungarian dancers in flight, but this listener rarely felt airborne in the faster dances. Significantly, Jarvi takes over eight minutes longer than Abbado (DG) for the whole set. He also uses the Andreas Hallen orchestration of No. 7 (with the first four bars omitted) which sounds distinctly un-Brahmsian to me. Suitner, Abbado and Masur (Philips) opt for the more idiomatic version by Martin Schmeling.
Like Masur and Jarvi, Suitner uses the Albert Parlow orchestrations of Nos. 5 and 6, not the Schmeling versions (which Abbado uses) as stated in the Denon booklet. The first thing to strike you about Suitner's set is the beauty of the recorded sound: smooth, warm and airy with good resolution of detail in the lower strings. But it's a soft-edged sound, and, as the set progresses, one feels cheated of a satisfying range of dynamics—No. 18, to name but one, offers minimal difference between pp and forte. Suitner's readings are carefully prepared, but reserved. There is none of Jarvi's indulgence, but precious little zigeuner fire and exuberance either. The violins of the Staatskapelle Berlin are competent, but rather weak toned, which, in this music, is a serious drawback.
Doubtless my comments on the newcomers would be more welcoming were it not for the availability of the Abbado and Masur sets. The Vienna Philharmonic can, of course, transform itself into the most expressive and athletic band of gipsies in the world. And so it does under Abbado's urgent direction. The DG sound, though, is lean and dry. Masur is marginally less urgent, but his Leipzigers are accorded a warmer, fuller sound, with better woodwind detail than any of the other three.'