In addition to those versions listed above, I made the mistake of returning to Ormandy's CBS account with the Philadelphia (nla): the orchestra, the string sound, for which this music was all but custom-made. I doubt very much that the Stockholm Philharmonic have often played this piece and if truth be told, it shows. Early tell-tale signs occur in the lovely second subject—dolce cantabile in the cellos—where the phrasing (tempo rubato—in tempo but flexibly) is tentative, almost halting in its effect. Berglund's scrupulous observation of the subito mf marking in the tenth bar of the melody sounds contrived—dutiful rather than instinctive. In the second movement (and straight away one misses the 'far-away' nostalgic glow of Previn's LSO version in the solo horn-against-harp opening bars) there is an extraordinarily intense and unsettling build-up of string texture at fig. 22 (10'55'')—a striking instance of Rachmaninov's later style both in its starkness and severity. Once again Berglund's Stockholm strings, studied in effect, sound to be feeling their way. Later in the movement one misses both the amplitude and assurance of the violins' ascent to the high octave with their luscious reprise of the adagio theme. But then, it takes time for an orchestra to absorb thoroughly the line, the stylistic ebb and flow of this music; to begin breathing with and through it. Previn's LSO were doing so long before they set down their excellent 1977 recording (an outstanding bargain now in EMI's Stud o series), for Ashkenazy on Decca, the Concertgebouw's wealth of experience enabled them to emulate an uncannily 'Russian' colour and cast (sonically speaking, this is easily the best of current options).
Berglund and his Stockholmers are undoubtedly at their best detailing the pithier elements of the score: the nervy scherzando middle section of the second movement is keenly etched with due emphasis given to the percussion, harp and celeste colorations, while the emerging march self-destructs vividly in its flurry of timpani triplets. In the finale, which generally moves more impulsively than the rest of the performance, the Waltonesque fugal section is taut and revealing. There is energy and at last a genuine feeling of spontaneity, but it comes too late. I just don't think the performance was anything like ready for recording. No challenge, then, to Previn or Ashkenazy—nor even from a technical point of view. The soundis bright and forthright—too forthright in the case of the brass and certain percussion (notably suspended cymbal) which prove fiercely overbearing under pressure. The rock—that precociously accomplished first orchestral opus (more Rimsky than Rachmaninov, it's true, but striking none the less for an aspiring ten-year-old)—is given a lively enough reading, though if you take my advice and opt for the Previn/EMI Studio release, you'll pick up a more than decent Shostakovich Sixth Symphony as well and still be in pocket.'