The second movement is more characterful than you might expect, its Landler theme trippingly light at the outset, the waltz more heftily Teutonic (Tempo II). The conductor’s relatively straight approach suits the Rondo-Burleske and the more lyrical middle section has greater emotive power than some recent interpreters have allowed. The Adagio receives a fine, mainstream performance that really sings. Which is not to say that we get anything like Bernstein’s explicitly weeping strings at the start, let alone Benjamin Zander’s hyped-up expressivity. Throughout, I was impressed by the certainty of the articulation and the audibility of counter-melodies even if there is now and again a certain dispassionateness which risks making the argument seem a bit too effortless. The ‘gripping, continuous narrative’ SJ missed in the Boulez is certainly present.

The Hartmann coupling is both unexpected and welcome; it has been sitting in Decca’s vaults for so long that EMI has recorded and released a rival version in the interim as part of its ongoing cycle. The present account displays all Dohnanyi’s lucidity and high seriousness, although it is Metzmacher who offers the more virile characterization in a recording that has a wider dynamic range. No doubt the Bamberg saxophone sounds less beautiful than its Cleveland counterpart, and yet Hartmann’s folk-like material is the more compelling for some extra give and take in the phrasing. The Bamberg cymbals crash with more vulgar abandon too.

Quibbling apart, Dohnanyi deserves credit for such adventurous programming and many readers will be intrigued to come across a neglected figure of the post-Mahlerian generation who wears his musical influences with perverse pride – I counted Reger, Berg, Hindemith, Stravinsky (The Rite) and the Bartok of Bluebeard’s Castle. Decca’s packaging is handsome, but why does it allow just one track per movement in the main work? The older DG recordings offered more comprehensive, ‘analytical’ access.

-- Gramophone [6/1999]