It is good to welcome back Sir John Gielgud to Peter and the Wolf, some six years after he made his previous Virgin Classics recording with Richard Stamp and the Academy of London (9/89), which (alongside Sir Ralph Richardson's 1959 Decca version with Sargent, 1/92) remains unsurpassed. Having said that, this new version is very enjoyable indeed and well worth its modest price. The famous voice is noticeably more mature, but the manner is just as charmingly avuncular and Gielgud participates in the narrative with steadily increasing excitement. The moment when the wolf catches and swallows his prey is wonderfully involving (and the oboe soloist here portrays a poignantly unlucky little duck). The following sequence, when the bird does his stuff from the branch of the tree is equally delightful – nice flute playing – Gielgud obviously enjoys the resourcefulness of all the characters (except the duck and the wolf) and even has his own spontaneous little vocal grin at the thought that ''the wolf's jumping only made the rope round his tail tighter''. The final procession is suitably grand and the moral of the tale could hardly be better pointed. At the very end Gielgud's glee in discovering that the duck is still alive inside the wolf is palpable, and this will surely appeal to young children. (He does it differently, and rather more dramatically in the earlier recording.) As before, every word of the narration communicates a great actor's joy in the English language, and Gielgud's vocal inflexions and changes of colour are a continual delight to the ear. Obviously the narration was recorded separately, and then dubbed on.
So to the orchestral performance (with the conductor, presumably, listening through headphones), which has a concert-hall ambience. The joining up is not always completely smooth (as when the hunters come out of the woods), but overall the continuity is well enough managed, and the orchestral playing has a nicely light touch, and for the most part a matching impetus.
The Carnival of the Animals, with a pair of excellent pianists, Vivian Troon and Roderick Elms (who make fun of themselves with clumsy wrong notes in their self-portrait), is a vividly straightforward and lively account, with individual instruments close-miked, altering the balance between numbers: the double-bass solo brings him well forward; ''The Swan'', however, is unusually melancholy, as if he has just lost his mate. Bizet's Jeux d'enfants makes a good encore, again well played and recorded, though not distinctive in any way.'