An engaging programme of three contrasted symphonies from the years 1765-71, when Haydn was moving steadily towards the first full flush of maturity. No. 28 is a quirky piece, even by the standards of this experimental period: the first movement worries obsessively at a single rhythmic figure, the second, with its comically intrusive little staccato phrases, suggests some programmatic idea, while the minuet is the most bizarre of all, with its bariolage effects and its mysterious, mesmeric A minor trio—more than a whiff of Balkan influence here. No. 34 has a magnificently broad, sombre opening in D minor marked Adagio and an irresistible finale, that sounds to me uncannily like an Irish jig. The most familiar, and most mature symphony here is the E flat, No. 43, apparently nicknamed Mercury because of the quicksilver violin writing in the finale—though if this is the case the sobriquet would be equally applicable to dozens of other Haydn symphonies. The opening Allegro has a lyrical expansiveness new in Haydn's symphonic writing (and foreshadowing Mozart's Symphony No. 39 in the same key), while the Adagio, with muted strings, has the chamber-musical delicacy and the intent inward gaze of many Haydn slow movements of the early 1770s.
The performances by the modern-instrument European Community Chamber Orchestra (not to be confused with another, more famous Euro-ensemble, the Chamber Orchestra of Europe) are stylish, resourceful and accomplished. Under their young Norwegian conductor, Eivind Aadland, they bring an expansive warmth of phrasing to the first movement of No. 43 and a noble, far-seeing intensity of line to the opening threnody of No. 34. Finales are gamesome, nimble-footed and deftly articulated, with a delightful lilt to the rustic dances that conclude Nos. 28 and 34. And each of the minuets is shrewdly paced, sturdy and virile of gait: some may question Aadland's easing of the pulse for the introspective trios of Nos. 28 and 43, but I found the results convincing—unlike, say, Harnoncourt's far more drastic tempo contrasts at such points. Throughout the orchestral playing is alert, sympathetic, often brilliant, with a small, flexible body of violins (though a left-right division of firsts and seconds would have yielded even greater dividends, especially in the imitative exchanges of No. 43's first movement) and plenty of colour and character from oboes and horns, which ring out well in the tuttis.
Just occasionally I felt the basses were a bit heavy and unsubtle—in the main theme of No. 43's Adagio, for instance (Dorati, in his complete Decca cycle, 6/91), phrases with altogether more finesse here), and in the repeated quavers in the Allegro second movement of No. 34, which pound a touch remorselessly. And in nit-picking mood one might object to the inconsistent policy over repeats—second-half repeats observed in the fast movements of Nos. 28 and 34, for instance, but not in those of No. 43, whose Adagio is shorn of both repeats. Incidentally, the notes bafflingly include biographies of a phantom guitarist and flautist. But in the main this is thoroughly likeable, characterful Haydn playing; and if the immediate recording occasionally imparts a slight edge to the violins, the overall sound picture is clear and vivid.'