This set completes Trevor Pinnock's recording of the Mozart symphonies, and completes it in style. There are some performances here of superlative quality, as in the previous set I reviewed (1/95) of the Salzburg (or middle-period) symphonies, but as a whole these new ones are somewhat less even in quality. No. 31, the Paris, has an appropriate touch of swagger to the rhythms of its opening movement, just right for Mozart's most showy symphony, and I like the light and precise string articulation and the prominent balance of the woodwind (though they sound very docile in the quieter music); but perhaps there is not quite the sense of cumulation that belongs to this movement. The Andante, though graceful enough, seems rather languid. In No. 32 I miss something of the rhetorical, theatrical quality but the central slow section has an attractive flow. No. 33, again, seems to me undershaped: the lines of the first movement's lyrical music are a shade charmless and the cadences of the Andante would have rewarded a little more attention. Here the minuet is nicely sturdy, though at the same time quite quick, and the finale has some crisp playing and inner textures carefully put in place. Pinnock and his musicians happily catch the more formal, ceremonious tone of No. 34, with prominent wind (including the brass) and well-pointed accents; the Andante is on the speedy side (as Mozart's rather cumbersome direction seems to require) and it flows very effectively.
The Haffner begins with a very good stride to its rhythms and a splendid ring to the orchestral sound, but the development section seems to me to slacken somewhat; it seems a little relaxed and understated. I think it was misguided to have a hint of a rallentando at each of the cadences in the minuet – there are so many of them – but the finale is brilliant and pointed with a good sense of fun. The Linz receives a lively, cheerful performance, the first movement taken at a steady tempo that enables it to be quite imposing – and incidentally allows the players time to make some of the refinements of articulation recently proved authentic (as compared with the NMA text) by the Canadian scholar Cliff Eisen. The Andante again is quite light and almost casual, but there is some very sensitive and sweet-toned, chamber-musical playing here. More might have been made, I think, of the finale: it goes deftly enough, but is slightly nondescript – and this is surely one of the wittiest movements Mozart ever wrote.
With the Prague Symphony the performances truly take fire. Pinnock strikes a sombre tone in the slow introduction, and an improvisatory air, as if discovering the music afresh; and then the Allegro is brisk and sparkling, with just the right attentiveness to the junction points in the music to make the formal articulation explicit. The slow movement, too, has many delicate touches of shaping, not least in the pointed expressiveness of the closing-section theme, and there is a also hint of the darker colours, the menace, of the chromatic writing. With a big and serious reading of the finale, too, this is a performance that fully conveys the particular kind of momentousness of this symphony. No. 39 is just as fine, again with a grand and noble introduction and an Allegro with a powerful underlying rhythm, sturdy and fiery tuttis and yet some very shapely lyrical playing too. The unique angry tone of the tuttis in the slow movement is well caught; the minuet is full of hustle and intensity; and the finale is very brilliant and vital.
That third CD seems to me quite outstanding, more so perhaps than the fourth (although the latter is the only one as yet available separately). No. 40 has a perfectly satisfactory but in no way extraordinary performance, though the first movement is for once taken at a true Molto allegro while the finale manages to be both poised and full of fire. The Jupiter, however, is magnificent. The first movement is duly weighty, but energetically paced and its critical junctures timed with a keen sense of their role within the shape of the whole. In the Andante Pinnock draws some extraordinarily beautiful, almost sensuous sound from The English Concert and the lines are moulded with real tenderness. This, above all, is the quality that distinguishes Pinnock's recordings from all the others, this natural and musical sound, deriving from the way the players are intently listening to one another; it is fitting that it reaches its high point in the Jupiter. He takes the minuet at a lively pace and with a fine spring to the rhythm. As for the finale: well, it is decidedly quick (only 11'27'' with both repeats), and one has the impression of a performance in which the orchestra are pressed to an extent that their ensemble playing is under stress, though it does of course hold together. It is a very bold, outspoken reading, which leaves one gasping afresh at the music's originality; and the prominence of the woodwind and especially the brass gives different perspectives from usual. It may not be to everyone's taste, but it certainly raises the blood pressure, and the spirits too.
In all these recordings the actual sound of the orchestra, as I have indicated, is very vivid and clean, with sweet, warm and firm string tone (the numbers are 8.6.4.4.2 up to No. 35, thereafter 8.6.4.4.3) and the wind well forward. It's an exceptionally musical sound. I am rather sorry that the recording, again, isn't quite complete – we should also have had the alternative slow movement of the Paris Symphony (it would be greedy to ask too for the G minor in both forms: it is done in the version with clarinets). But one might have expected, from the Archiv label, just a little more diligence over this and some other aspects of the package. Even so, I don't think there is another set that gives as much consistent pleasure.'