A passionate Russian temperament on the podium and the LSO in one of its heydays (the 1960s) are good enough reasons for investigating this set. Another is the chance to hear Tchaikovsky's brass with minimum inhibition, and reproduced with the sort of clarity, immediacy and range that suggest more modern origins; trombones in particular, have a full and true presence. In fact, the Jansons digital accounts on Chandos appear to have anarrower range of dynamics than these 30-year-old tapings. There is hiss, of course, and the forward (though adequately spacious) balance brings the lower strings very close, for example, the basses' (emphatically pizzicato con tutta forza) urging in the coda of the Fifth Symphony's first movement (from 11'27''). Such exposure has its drawbacks: cellos can, on occasion, be loud and expressionless, as in the slow movement of the Fourth Symphony where they wind down (from 7'35'') beneath strange wind harmonies to the last statement of the main theme; or in the Sixth Symphony's Waltz––the former is lacking shape or mystery, the latter is rather plain and graceless––compare Mravinsky in his 1960 account (full-price DG) at both points.
But then Markevitch wasn't a comparable tyrant with such a fine-tuned ensemble at his disposal; neither did he inspire/intimidate the LSO into the 101 per cent concentration they provided for Szell in the Fourth Symphony in 1962(mid-price Decca). But if Markevitch's Fourth is a reading without Szell's strength of line and architectural planning, it does have more fantasy in the first movement's second subject, ruder inebriates in the Scherzo, and greater force of conviction behind Fate's reappearance in the finale. Markevitch's Fifth is more controversial, precisely because it is more rigorous: as in the Sixth, he responds generously to the licence that Tchaikovsky encourages in his cantabiles (all those animatos and ritenutos), but in the Fifth's first movement he does not pull back as noticeably as most for the second theme. Here, and in his expansively conceived finale, he is much closer to Tchaikovsky's suggested metronome markings than others. Indeed, you may find the finale's ultimate victory hymn (with full military honours) even more hollow and pompous than usual. But hollow it was, as Tchaikovsky himself realized.
In sum, there are very few stereo versions of these famous three to match Mravinsky for range of expression, and none that I have heard to match his microscopic attention to, and control of detail. If Markevitch's set is less of a gramophone classic, it is half the price, almost as vital and powerfully communicative, has brass that doesn't wobble, and is marginally more naturally recorded.'