This is the digital recording of Scheherazade we have been waiting for. It has the freshness of impact of Haitink's famous 1974 Philips version, yet as a reading it is quite different—for Mackerras is a more vibrant interpreter of Russian music and he also has the advantage of one of Telarc's very finest recordings. With the LSO balanced by Jack Renner (who gave us that famous Maazel/Cleveland record of Mussorgsky's Pictures), the acoustics of Walthamstow Town Hall are used to maximum advantage, and this is a work that must have spectacular yet vividly detailed recording to demonstrate the composer's special genius with the orchestral palette. It also demands a performance which combines virtuosity with excitement, sensuous ardour with subtlety of feeling and above all is seemingly spontaneous. Mackerras meets all these requirements admirably in a reading of great power and romantic sweep, richly coloured, yet with delicacy of texture whenever needed.
The very opening, with the trombones and tuba sonorously integrated with the double-basses, brings a formidably gruff image of the cruelly autocratic Sultan and Scheherazade's entry makes a very telling contrast. The solo violin is given an absolutely natural balance and Kees Hulsmann's sinuously beguiling image is gently, insistently alluring: no wonder the Sultan was intrigued. Mackerras's control of the first movement is masterly, the expansive sweep of Sinbad's ocean catches up the listener and later there is some gorgeous horn playing with delectable answering woodwind. The climax grows out of the music and seems inevitable. The second movement opens gracefully, the wind playing a Beechamesque delight; then the arrival of the famous brass fanfares has a superb sense of drama, helped by the wide dynamic range of the recording. The kernel of the movement generates great rhythmic energy without being too forceful and the closing section is highly poetic, with the principal horn again singing out his solo gloriously, to make a much bolder contrast than usual with the muted echo.
The third movement with its langourous portrait of ''The Young Prince and the Young Princess'' opens with some quite ravishing string playing, the phrasing again recalling Beecham (EMI) in its cultivated, voluptuous elegance, and after the glitteringly rhythmic middle section the return of the main theme on the violins is magical. Scheherazade makes a delectable re-entry to charm her master as the tale draws to its end, and there is a final burst of romantic feeling before the coda. The finale is superb, full of orchestral zest and virtuosity (the brass tonguing is splendidly crisp, the sonorities satisfyingly deep and resonant) and Mackerras manages the chimerical changes of style and tempo with great skill. There is again some lovely lyrical playing for the violins (the sound captured is rich and natural in timbre) to contrast with the glittering sounds from the woodwind and percussion. The tension builds steadily and with the trombones full throatedly singing out the Sultan's theme—readily conveying his involvement in the action—there is a pulsing onward flow that is irresistible.
Mackerras keeps a reserve for the final climax at the shipwreck, and when it comes there is a frisson of excitement as the tam-tam drenches the orchestral texture. Then the mood softens, calm returns and as Scheherazade again seductively dominates the texture we are left with a charming romantic image of the Sultan, pleasured and captivated by his young wife, their themes intertwining, in peaceful satiation. Although there is a proper pause, the brilliant opening of the Capriccio espagnole, which follows, brings the listener up with a jolt after such a winning reverie. I need not say too much about this, for the performance is every bit as good as that of the main work. The ''Scena e canto gitano'', where the orchestral soloists are given their exotic cadenzas is marvellously brought off, to be followed by fat, crisp brass chords and scurringly alert violins to lead on to the excitement of the closing ''Fandango asturiano''. So often this fails to take off at the end, but not with Mackerras and the brilliance of the coda is a joy in itself. Among modern recordings this new Telarc disc is in a class of its own. Beecham's Scheherazade, of course, is unique and wonderful in its own charismatic way, but it now seems due for mid-price reissue.'