Sir Simon Rattle is not the first conductor to apply period techniques to modern instruments in the Beethoven symphonies. Nikolaus Harnoncourt was the pioneer, in his cycle with the Chamber Orchestra of Europe (Gramophone’s Record of the Year in 1992). But the COE are a young orchestra, in every sense, and obviously quite willing to adapt their sound to meet current standards of ‘historically informed’ performance practice. It’s a different story with a venerable institution like the Vienna Philharmonic. Richard Osborne, who attended several of the rehearsals and performances that resulted in this set of recordings, notes elsewhere in this issue that the process was something of a ‘creative debate’ between Rattle and the orchestra. Indeed, even for those listeners who have followed the ‘authenticity’ movement’s incursion into the mainstream – in this case, via the recorded cycles of Mackerras, Zinman and Abbado – the wiry, vibrato-less sound of the VPO strings heard here may come as something of a shock.

The lack of vibrato yields a gain in transparency – the hymn-like second theme in the finale of No 2 sounds as if it were being hummed by a pure-toned choir, for example – and the antiphonal placement of the violins is especially effective, as the firsts and seconds sound like truly equal partners for a change. Still, much of the string playing is edgy, and the more I listened to the set, the more I felt that the ‘creative debate’ resulted in some uneasy compromises. A gritty sound can be welcome in Beethoven, of course, as it is here in the final pages of the Fifth (beginning at 9'40"), where the second violins and violas bring out a crucial rhythmic figure – like a hero proudly revealing his battle scars. And similarly gritty playing in the first movement of the Eroica throws off sparks. In the Adagio of No 4, though, the violins’ opening melody is hard-pressed – hardly the cantabile quality Beethoven asks for. The brass also sound pushed at times. The recurring C major fanfares in the Andante of the Fifth, for instance, are bluntly loud rather than burnished. And though the woodwinds have retained much of their fabled sweetness – the solos in ‘The Scene by the Brook’ of No 6 are exquisite – some of the solo playing is oddly subdued.

In terms of orchestral balance, there is much to admire, which is not surprising from such a ‘detail-oriented’ conductor as Rattle. The sonorities in the opening movement of No 9 are handled with especial care, allowing one to notice how frequently Beethoven blurs the line between melody and accompaniment. But not everything is sufficiently clear. In the finale of the Seventh, for instance, one does not hear the alternating jabs of the brass and winds that punctuate the violins’ whiplash melody, as the woodwinds are buried under a thick mass of sinewy strings. There are other spots where important lines are almost completely inaudible: the horns in bars 303-307 of the finale of No 3; the timpani in bars 313-314 of the first movement of No 5; the horns again in bars 257-263 of the scherzo of No 9.

It must be noted, too, that there is some surprisingly untidy and unsteady playing throughout this set, as in the opening movement of the Fifth, where the quavers do not flow at all smoothly – note the slight delay in the first violins’ entrance at the beginning of the development (around 2'53"). True, these are live performances, but so are the 1987 Abbado and the Bernstein sets, and in both cases the VPO’s ensemble is noticeably tighter.

There are other perplexing aspects to this cycle. Reviewing Rattle’s only previous recording of a Beethoven symphony – the Fifth – Rob Cowan found some of the conductor’s tempo manipulations fussy, and suggested that the interpretation toyed with ‘incompatible performing styles’. And, indeed, if one comes to this set without having read anything about Rattle’s approach – as I initially did – it is rather startling to hear such lavish application of rubato in ‘The Scene by the Brook’, for example, and particularly when the strings’ tone is so austere. Then one reads that Rattle views this as among Beethoven’s most ‘profoundly spiritual and religious’ works, and one begins to see what the conductor is getting at. I’m not entirely persuaded, however, that such flexibility works in a movement where the flow of quavers and semiquavers is so steadily maintained. Rigidity is the last thing one wants in this music, certainly, and some of the modifications here are undeniably lovely – like the unmarked poco ritenuto around 6'40". But the abrupt a tempo at 7'20" spoils the mood, and I am left feeling that Rattle’s obviously deep affection for this music could have been expressed without so much pushing and pulling.

I am also largely unconvinced by the ritardandi taken at the major structural junctions in the first movement of the Ninth, which makes the whole seem episodic. Rattle employs the much-lauded Bärenreiter Urtext edition (as do Mackerras, Zinman and Abbado), yet he is inconsistent about following Beethoven’s markings. The steady ritard taken in the passage leading up to the codetta works quite well (beginning around 15'00"), creating a sense of ominous calm from which Rattle ignites the apocalyptic firestorm of the final pages. But in doing so the conductor ignores not one, but two, clearly-marked a tempo indications.

Rattle’s tempos are generally on the fast side in this cycle, sometimes approaching Beethoven’s metronome marks – though, in general, these performances are not nearly as fleet as Zinman’s. The Ninth is markedly different, however, with the opening movement broadly paced, and with an unexpectedly spacious Adagio. The conductor has said that he views the Ninth as a work apart from the rest of the symphonies – as ‘something entirely other’ – and he’s right. But that leaves unanswered the question as to why one should observe Beethoven’s metronome mark in, say, the finale of No 4, as Rattle comes close to doing (delicious as it is, such a zippy pace could hardly be described as Allegro ma non troppo), but not in the first and third movements of No 9.

Articulation and dynamics have also been rethought in these interpretations – the Bärenreiter scores meticulously document the different kinds of staccato marks Beethoven employed, for instance – and this bears fruit in a movement like the finale of No 8, where the music’s frothy fizz is powerfully intoxicating. But, again, there are inconsistencies. I was surprised that Rattle doesn’t make more of those adrenalin-pumping fortississimi (fff) in that Symphony’s first movement. And, despite all the attention given to matters of articulation, some key phrases seem curiously lacking in character. The maggiore section of the Eroica’s ‘Marcia funebre’ (4'16"), for example, offers neither consolatory warmth nor graciousness, and that oddly obsessive tune in the Allegretto of No 7 is weighed down by unnecessary (and unmarked) accents.

As might be inferred from so much carping, I found this cycle to be rather a mixed bag. The first two symphonies are generally delightful, full of verve and wit. I especially enjoyed the sense of expectation created in the introduction to No 1, and the way the violins flex their muscles jubilantly at the end of the first movement of No 2 (11'25"). The Eroica, too, has much to offer, including one of the most exhilarating accounts of the first movement I’ve heard. Unfortunately, I don’t know which performance of the ‘Marcia funebre’ was used, but I don’t myself hear on disc the kind of intensity RO experienced at the second Vienna performance. No 4 would have been a winner had the Adagio been sung more sweetly; and, similarly, No 8 is spoilt by charmless phrasing in the Allegretto. On the other hand, both No 5 and No 7 are only occasionally gratifying; the former is more coherent here than in the previous recording, but it still feels unsettled, and the textures in the latter are inexplicably thick. I certainly hope that Rattle has a chance to re-record No 6, because if this performance had been held together a little more tautly it would have been just the kind of spiritual experience he clearly intended it to be. As it is, the ‘Storm’ is marvelously weighty and oppressive, and though the orchestra’s tone is a bit fierce in the climax of the finale, the movement is lovingly shaped. No 9 might be heard to more powerful effect on its own, away from the set. The finale boasts a well-matched, fresh-toned solo quartet and vividly characterised singing from the Birmingham chorus. I imagine, though, that I would still be bothered by the interpretive divide between the Furtwänglerian expansiveness of the odd-numbered movements and the sleeker style of the scherzo and finale.

Admittedly, I came to this set with very high expectations. How could one not? Rattle has recorded little Beethoven before this, and even less Mozart, but he proved himself a superb Haydn conductor in three discs with the CBSO, and the combination of energy and intellectual rigour in his music-making is tailor-made for Beethoven. And although I have doubts about many aspects of these performances, I will say that when listened to consecutively, from the First Symphony straight through to the Ninth, one can hear Rattle trying to convey the sense of a momentous journey. Harnoncourt treats each symphony as a entity rather than a step along the path, yet he and the COE provide a consistent feeling of freshness and discovery, something I had hoped to get more of from Rattle. Indeed, turning back to Harnoncourt’s recordings for comparison, I found myself charmed, tickled, elated, and touched – it’s clear that conductor and orchestra have a shared and coherent vision of these works. If you’re looking for historically-informed Beethoven symphonies on modern instruments, then, Harnoncourt is still your man. Rattle’s voyage seems like a work-in-progress.