These are all modern digital recordings made in the Reduta Concert Hall in Bratislava in 1989. They are part of a planned complete cycle to be issued within the expanding Naxos super-bargain catalogue, which offers a retail price of about £4·50 per disc. Certainly on neither artistic nor technical grounds can these excellent CDs be faulted. Moreover, they are better documented than many full-price issues from our own major companies (three pages of notes in each case, with information about both music and artists).
Stephen Gunzenhauser is an American who received much of his musical training in Europe (with the help of a Fulbright Scholarship). He has already shown his versatility in recordings for Marco Polo (Naxos's full-price sister label) of works by Bloch, Liadov, Gliere and Rubinstein among others. He is certainly a sympathetic Dvorakian, which is immediately revealed in the evocative pastoral opening of the Fifth Symphony. Here the wind playing of the Slovak orchestra is engagingly full of colour, while later Gunzenhauser directs the fine slow movement with a highly communicative expressive feeling. His contouring of the lovely lyrical theme of the first movement of the Fourth is equally appealing, especially when it is reprised towards the end of the movement.
The coupling of the Fifth and Seventh Symphonies is particularly attractive. The reading of the latter reminds me a little of Paita's famous Lodia version (6/85). The first movement has plenty of thrust and momentum, the Poco adagio has real ardour and the sparkling Scherzo brings an engagingly lilting rhythmic touch; the finale carries the listener along to its exultant conclusion, with plenty of expansiveness for the memorable secondary theme. The Eighth is a rather relaxed account: the first two movements haven't the impetus of the Seventh, although they are winningly played by an orchestra which is naturally idiomatic and provides textures which are always fresh, if with not quite the body of tone one would expect from, say, the Czech Philharmonic. That is not necessarily a disadvantage in the Fifth Symphony and in the Fourth it means that the Wagner influences in the Andante are unemphasized, while the blatant march trio of the Scherzo swings along without the rhetoric being overstressed. Gunzenhauser also copes skilfully with the rhythmic repetitions of the finale and never hectors the listener in what is not one of Dvorak's most felicitous structures.
The New World is a very vibrant reading indeed. The recording team here is a different one and the sound is much more immediate and brilliant, with even a hint of stridency in the climaxes of the first movement. The performance, too, is powerfully dramatic—essentially direct—and again with a strong thrust, with the first movement exposition repeat very much part of the structure, while the finale moves forward in a single compulsive sweep. There is some fine playing in the Largo, although other versions have more of a sense of glowing magic. Karajan, for instance, in his superb 1964 DG account, where the Berlin Philharmonic playing is wonderfully radiant. (This is now offered at bargain price coupled with an equally marvellous account of Schubert's Unfinished—(DG (CD) 429 676-2GSE—issued as a sampler to the Karajan Symphony Edition with first-class remastered sound.) However, in its own right Gunzenhauser's performance has plenty of excitement and does not lack lyrical feeling. His coupling is an extremely vivid account of Dvorak's underrated Symphonic Variations. This is strongly characterized throughout, any Brahmsian influences dissipated by the refreshingly spontaneous spirit of the Slovak orchestra in sparkling form.
The disc pairing the Third and Sixth Symphonies was the last to arrive and now only Nos. 1 and 2 remain to complete the cycle. The present coupling is typical of the whole series, full of joyous Dvorakian spirit. The lovely, swinging 6/8 Allegro moderato of the first movement of No. 3 sets off on strings and woodwind with great zest at surely an ideal pace, and the whole movement is carried forward on a spontaneous sweep, with all the detail of the development imaginatively realized, and the movement's closing section, with its quixotic changes of mood and tempo beautifully handled. The opening of the Adagio is strong, yet when the march sequence arrives it has an engaging Dvorakian freshness (6'00''), and the rhythmic spring at 7'22'' is captivating. Near the end the horns steal in almost unobserved (14'19'') and add to the evocative feeling. This is a work of only three movements, so the last acts as scherzo and finale combined, and the playing here has splendid rhythmic lift and sparkle. Try the chirping entry of the flutes and piccolo at 2'24'', or the reprise on the woodwind at 6'28'' with the lightest touch on the following strings—this is music-making that makes one smile with pleasure. No. 6 is famous for its Brahmsian affinity, and in the strongly lyrical first movement Gunzenhauser acknowledges this. Yet the lyrical flow is never heavy, and the movement is carried forward buoyantly on its own momentum, with agreeably natural relaxation for the secondary material. The Adagio has a noble tune, and it is nobly shaped and even more affecting at its tender return (4'39''). This is a long movement but it is superbly held together. As might be expected the Slovak players revel in the sparkle of the scherzo: Furiant and the finale has plenty of folksy spirit too, bringing the work to a rousingly satisfying close. The recording is excellent, with a fine concert-hall ambience, yet plenty of brilliance and impact.'