I had hoped for more. A fine modern version of Ibert's Escales would have been most welcome. This new one from Previn is not without its splendours: the rousing tarantella at the centre of the first movement develops a powerful sweep at its climax, with detail far clearer than on Martinon's 1975 EMI recording (nla). Indeed, the excitement of this passage here makes one regret its relative brevity. The movement's calm, atmospheric opening, though, would have benefited from a more hazy sheen; the flute's mysterious song is very present. I don't have the feeling of being drawn in from afar to Palermo's festivities as I did with Martinon. Neither do the Los Angeles strings, when they take over the opening melody, seem to be able to caress their phrases with the refined sensuality that came easily to those of Martinon's French Radio National Orchestra or those of the Paris Opera Orchestra under the composer himself from a 1954 recording recently issued on mid-price EMI. The allure in Los Angeles is comparatively artificial.
The North African desert reed music of the second movement finds Previn admirably fresh and direct, but how much more Martinon made of this fleeting episode with a much freer pulse in the contrasting central section. An observance, too, of Ibert's direction of more distance for the oboe on the return of the opening theme—this may well have been a question of adjusting microphone balance, but the effect is legitimate—again, one had the impression of travelling.
Previn's Valencia (the last port of call) struck me as short on attack and sheer abandon. Ensemble in Los Angeles is more precise than in Paris, but the slow return to the boisterous mood of the opening seems to lack vitality with the Los Angeles brass almost apologetic for their (hardly ff) interjections after fig. 62 (track 5, 3'44'') and the closing pages don't exactly explode in a riot of sound, as they did for Martinon. My impressions also are that the recording level is a notch lower for this last movement; the triple fortes have less impact than those at the climax of the tarantella in the first movement.
The sound that Philips' engineers have achieved for previous issues in UCLA's Royce Hall, Los Angeles has won much praise in these columns. For all its commendable clarity and neutrality, the matt finish does impart a plainness to the proceedings; the dry acoustic and relatively close balance are clearly responsible for the lack of atmosphere at the start of Escales. There, too, one notices that the harps are absent from the stage for their first entry—a glance at the score (Leduc) will show that Ibert wanted them to be heard. Indeed, their balance throughout this programme is reticent (arguably natural) and when they do appear it is without the sparkle of most competitors.
Previn's 1970's LSO recordings on EMI of the rest of the programme are still available (coupled separately) and are, on the whole, preferable. The new Debussy Prelude has a richer and better defined string sound, the solo cello 'tells' beautifully near the end, but there is less intensity in the strings' singing lines than with Baudo (mid-price EMI Eminence), Karajan (mid-price DG) or Boulez (mid-price CBS) and all three have more spacious sound. There is also a lapse in bar 33 (at 3'27'') where the harp and lower strings are not together—a small point, perhaps, but irritating on repetition.
The LSO brass played with much more verve and bite for Previn in The sorcerer's apprentice, and accents were more sharply pointed. The new one is a degree more refined, but you never feel that anyone's life is at stake. Tame brass and caution are a problem in the ''Danse generale'' from the new Daphnis Suite. The restraint certainly works well for the preceding passage where Daphnis makes his pledge at the altar which has an unusual solemnity, but it is unfortunate that Previn seems unwilling to galvanize the LAPO into the appropriate frenzy for the closing pages.'