Duplications of these masterpieces have been arriving so fast that it is a relief when newcomers find so clear a place in the catalogue as these three. Sir Colin and the Dresdeners give elegant, refined performances on what by today's standards is a very big traditional scale, while conveying the sort of happy ease which marked Davis's Haydn recordings (also on Philips) with the Concertgebouw. That one might have predicted, but it is Sir Yehudi with a brilliant group of Polish players, who even more clearly finds a distinctive place in this crowded field, and can be warmly and widely recommended. Whatever the competition, the combination of Menuhin and the Sinfonia Varsovia, recorded in exceptionally vivid, immediate sound, has me eager to hear much more.
The Sinfonia Varsovia, of which Sir Yehudi is Principal Conductor, was founded in 1984, largely in Sir Yehudi's honour, with many members drawn from the Polish Chamber Orchestra. What is clear is that under the direction of a great string soloist they produce playing of a precision, clarity and bite which is consistently refreshing. Compared with even the finest rivals, the articulation of the Varsovia strings has exceptional crispness and definition. That is partly the result of the recording balance which, set dose in what sounds like a smallish hall, has a vivid sense of presence, revealing inner detail naturally and realistically. Happily with such polished players that close exposure brings remarkable purity from what I Imagine is a very small section of violins, all tuned with a precision one would expect from a first-rate string quartet.
Yet that technical finesse is just the start, for what makes these rather tough, clean-cut readings so attractive is the sense of live music-making, the rhythmic energy, the natural expressiveness which has nothing of routine or self-consciousness in it. The style of playing is markedly less smooth than that of EMI's Marriner and the Academy (or Davis and the Dresdeners), and with the close balance the dynamic range is inevitably reduced at the lower end. All these qualities bring the performance much closer to what the authenticists have taught us to listen for. For those who resist period instruments, there is much to be said for recommending these positive and immediate readings, tough but not rigid.
Some may be surprised that Sir Yehudi as a Mozartian here is very much a classicist generally preferring speeds on the fast side, rarely indulging in romantic tricks. Menuhin's speeds for all four movements of No. 40 are on the fast side, and I am fascinated to find that in the central Andante of the Prague he is even a shade faster than Hogwood and Schroder in their AAM version on L'Oiseau-Lyre using Neal Zaslaw's scholarly text. Yet in context that speed sounds perfectly natural in its free, song-like lyricism, and not at all forced. Interestingly for the final Presto Menuhin chooses a relatively relaxed, unrushed speed, but it allows phenomenal articulation, as it does equivalently in the dashing semiquavers of the finale of No. 39 again not rushed off its feet.
Sir Yehudi in No. 39 puts in a note of his own to explain one textual oddity. The Landler rhythms of the Trio, what he calls the ''hurdy-gurdy'' effect, come to a sudden halt at the end, and there is a gaping pause before the reprise of the Minuet.
Menuhin suggests that Mozart's intention is clear at that point in his manuscript, but it is not a reading that Zaslaw urged on Hogwood. Menuhin makes it sound the more truncated by refusing to allow any rallentando at the end of the trio: that is part of its charm, almost like the hurdy-gurdy in Petrushka suddenly stopping.
Generally Menuhin cannot be faulted on the observance of repeats, but it is in that same symphony, No. 39, that exceptionally he omits the exposition repeat in the first movement, and I wonder whether he can quote manuscript authority for that too. Certainly when the end of the exposition leads so dramatically to the gentle lyricism of the first theme again, instead of going on. Otherwise the only major omissions of repeats are in the Jupiter. There, as is usual, he observes the exposition repeats in the first movement and finale, but not the repeat in the slow movement or the second half of the finale. Whatever the merits of rival versions, and they are many, not least in those I have listed, Menuhin's Mozart has a dear place for those who, resisting period instruments yet want many of their benefits along with traditional sweetness.
The Davis record is not likely to appeal to such listeners, though it too is outstanding. Though the orchestral ensemble sounds very big for Mozart and the scale and smoothness are exaggerated by the warmly reverberant Dresden acoustic the recording allows a remarkable amount of inner detail to come through. One can hear the bassoon, for example, in ensembles, and some may feel that it is balanced too close, when its sustained commentaries come out so dearly in the outer movements of the Linz—as, for instance, in the first movement development at bar 144 (7'24''). On any count it is a comfortable sound that allows the refinement of the playing and the interpretation to emerge fully. Since he made his early recordings of Mozart, Davis has grown warmer as well as weightier in his approach, while continuing to adopt traditional speeds that never drag.'