There is nothing extraordinary about these performances of five of Haydn's ''London'' Symphonies. They are as unexceptional and as unspectacular as the tasteful contemporary paintings of London chosen for their packaging: there is nothing particular to commend or to blame in the quality of the recording itself, no extremes of tempo, no piquant garnishing of period instruments. The works are played without conductor and the result is rather, I suspect, what the London Mozart Players would sound like without Jane Glover: lithe, discreet, sensitive in their listening, but without that extra edge of definition and character which makes one sit up, listen and long for more.
One of the most attractive traits of the Prague Chamber Orchestra, though, is their refusal to equate slim, finely textured playing with speed and aggression. They give themselves time to enjoy the balance of woodwind and strings in their introductory Adagios and, in the truly leisurely Andante of No. 96, enable the concertante elements to surface sweetly and unhurriedly. Of these, by far the most engaging is the oboe. Its thin, quavering line is a small Miracle in itself, surfacing from an Adagio into an opening Allegro, lacing the trio of a minuet, insinuating itself into the second theme as a foil to the cantabile lower strings of the Allegro of No. 98.
The Menuettos are nicely judged and vividly distinguished the one from the other: the sprung rhythms of the Landler-like dance of No. 96, the rustic lilt of No. 97. The orchestra also understand that vivace assai does not mean, and is not best achieved by an allegro assai, though they can rev up willingly enough for a real Presto when it appears.
The slow movement of No. 98 (some commentators have heard it as a lament for the death of Mozart) is nicely understated, with clean, even phrasing between most potent silences. This same sense of restraint characterizes the Andante of Symphony No. 104: its swells never reach the level of queasiness through an over-well-intentioned effort to be affecting.
On the whole, though, the two later symphonies are less interesting performances. Despite the oboe's consistent seduction (its work as heard in the Adagio of No. 101 is irresistible) the air of moderation which permeates these interpretations is less welcome here. The Presto of No. 101 is a little conservative, the Andante a little ponderous: this clock could use some fresh batteries. Similarly, the Minuet of No. 104 (hardly played as an Allegro) is a little lacking in courage when approaching the music's rhythmic cross-currents. It would have been nice to have a little biographical material about the orchestra to supplement the only sketchy programme notes on the accompanying single-fold leaflet.'