With its title leaping out at you from every other CD browser, if you are still in the market for a Bolero, this version is best avoided. It starts promisingly with the marvellous CBSO woodwind phrasing most seductively, but as levels increase the tone of the full orchestra; becomes grey, the playing lacks bite and there's not enough lift in the rhythm. Karajan's 1966 version (on mid-price DG) is much more exciting. The remaining 55 minutes are, for the most part, enjoyable. Both the Debussy Prelude and Satie's Gymnopedies are faster and cooler than usual, refreshing, but rather shorn of feature. The sorcerer's apprentice is jaunty, stylish and not especially vlvid. Please EMI, may we have a reissue of Silvestri's Bournemouth recording?—its combination of flair and flood outclass even modem rivals.
John Ogdon's Litolff Scherzo is splendidly vigorous, if not always as nimble, or rhythmically stable as it ought to be: Mischa Dichter (on full-price Philips) is more affectionate. However, this Espana and Danse macabre are among the best available, and remastering has cleaned up the sound of Fremaux's Pacific 231 which, on LP, was oppressive. It still lacks the clarity of Dutoit's Erato/WEA version, but Dutoit treats the work simply as a ''Mouvement Symphonique'', whereas Fremaux leaves you in no doubt about the identity of the subject, its eventual, tam-tam capped, massive momentum underpinned by ground shaking, bass resonance. Thrilling stuff, indeed!
Most of these recordings were made in the over-ample acoustic of Birmingham University's Great Hall, and are not ideally clear. The front to rear perspective is frequently overdone—close, sometimes hard edged strings, very distant horns and percussion. Overall, though, the sound is satisfyingly rich, with an attractive bloom in the quieter moments.'