First, the good news. The actual sound of this new Decca issue from Vladimir Ashkenazy and the Cleveland Orchestra of the Sixth and Seventh Symphonies is easily the best in the catalogue. The last discs of these works I reviewed, from the Berlin Philharmonic under Seiji Ozawa, had little back-to-front depth and were unimpressively two-dimensional, while the performances themselves were pretty characterless. In this new recording, made in Severance Hall, the perspective is natural and the aural image firmly and cleanly defined. There is moreover splendid body and presence.
On his last Prokofiev CD, coupling two late works, the Sinfonia concertante, Op. 125 and the Concertino, Op. 132, for cello and orchestra with Lynn Harrell (Decca, 5/94), Ashkenazy seemed an ideal accompanist, completely attuned to both the spirit and the letter of the score. In the Sixth Symphony, by general consent the composer's greatest, I am a good deal less convinced. Ashkenazy sometimes seems to lose the vital current that flows through its first movement, relaxing the tension a little too much. It is not wholly a matter of tempo: at the very beginning there is little appreciable difference between him and Mravinsky, though almost immediately he relaxes into a steadier tempo. One is not borne along with that seemingly inexorable force which guides Mravinsky, Ormandy, Ansermet and others; rather we are held back—very gently—to admire this detail or that. At the second group, beautifully played though it is (fig. 10: track 1, 3'27''), we gradually lose momentum and thus sinew. The Largo is really too fast to make the requisite contrast with the Allegro movement, and the opening of the finale feels too quick. In fact Mravinsky is every bit as swift but, as with the performance as a whole the difference is mainly one of greater tautness concentration and dramatic tension. In Ashkenazy's finale the players do not sound wholly at ease and it is not surprising that they soon slow him down. I know and admire the original 1958 LP Mravinsky account listed above, of whose transfer to CD (listed above) JS was so critical, but have also made reference to an equally powerful and concentrated performance from the 1968 Prague Spring Festival (once briefly available on the Hunt label).
I find Ashkenazy's phrasing at the opening of the Seventh Symphony affectionate, to which I warm, but also fussy, to which I don't. Further into the first movement, the music is allowed to find its natural flow. In the second movement the piu animato at fig. 64 (track 6, 6'28'') is too steep and the close of the movement too headlong. However, Ashkenazy captures the charm of the third movement perfectly and gives us a vivacious high-spirited finale without the variant ending.
Generally speaking, for all its merits, this is not quite the artistic success I had expected, and although it is recommendable it would not displace existing choices. Jarvi is not as well recorded in either symphony but is ultimately more satisfying so, I must say, is Nicolai Malko's 1950s recording of the Seventh Symphony, which still sounds astonishingly fresh and also represents good value for money.'