In the two most popular of Respighi's Roman suites, Pines and Fountains, Sinopoli seems at first to have a pretty consistent edge over his younger colleague. You would expect him to excel at subtleties of rubato and refinements of balance, and a closeish but by no means oppressive recording enables one to enjoy his and his orchestra's elegant phrasing. His fountains are tangibly wet, his pines cast rich shadows. Frequent switching between the two sets of performances, however, reveals that Rizzi often achieves no less by the simpler device of allowing the music a little more time to make its point. And one or two of Sinopoli's finely crafted details might just seem mannered on repeated hearing. That cor anglais solo near the beginning of ''Pines of the Appian Way'', for example, which I suspect should sound rather terrified of the army's implacable onward tread. For Rizzi it is srmply a cor anglais solo, properly allowed its moment in the foreground. Sinopoli is sure that it should be more, but therefore decks it with such cosmetic dynamic shadings that it risks sounding affected.
This way will not work with Roman Festivals where a decent measure of honest vulgarity is imperative. Sinopoli gives it plenty of colour, but one can't help feeling that those big (and, let's be honest, not very good) tunes in ''The October Festival'' and ''La Befana'' are not really his cup of tea. Rizzi simply enjoys them more, and wins our indulgence for them by doing so. Sinopoli whips up the excitement of ''The Jubilee'' with so many carefully graded accelerations that the exhausted pilgrims seem to be sprinting up Monte Mario. Rizzi, by working less hard (and adding sensibly to the timing of the movement) builds more excitement, meretricious excitement, if you insist but what else is this piece about? Neither newcomer quite shakes Muti or Dutoit from their pre-eminence in this coupling, but Rizzi's is an enjoyable account, Sinopoli's an interesting one. '