In an informative note, Barry Tuckwell explains how he sought (and was refused) permission to record more Strauss juvenilia than is in fact included on this CD. Even so, his is a more complete collection of Strauss's music for horn than appears on rival discs and many convinced Straussians will welcome it for that reason alone. The Andante, which dates from 1888, and the precocious Alphorn were included on Radovan Vlatkovic's rival EMI issue (4/90—nla). The Introduction, Theme and Variations and the bleeding Capriccio chunk were not. That moonlit interlude was the last music Strauss himself conducted, so perhaps we shouldn't object to what Tuckwell freely admits is ''an indulgence for the soloist''. It's certainly indulgent—and slow—here, with the considerable drawback that the horn is spotlit by the engineers even when the melodic material has reverted to wind and strings. The Introduction, Theme and Variations (1878) is no masterpiece but it gets an engaging run-through. Marie McLaughlin rivals EMI's Ann Murray in the fresh and agreeable Alphorn, apart from some problems with her low notes. As for the Andante, all that remains of a projected horn sonata intended to mark the silver wedding of Strauss's parents, the star instrumentalists seem not quite in tune.
In the more familiar concertos, many older readers will treasure Dennis Brain's magnificently fluent readings (EMI), but there have been several more than decent recordings since, including Tuckwell's own, made for Decca in the 1960s with Istvan Kertesz and the LSO (5/67—nla). There was criticism then that Tuckwell's lyrical approach missed something of the youthful impetuosity of the First and perhaps understated the anachronistic rapture of the Second. Twenty-five years later, the remakes are impressively consistent. Tuckwell plays with more respectful solidity than positive ardour and, despite the excellence of his technique, he doesn't always lead the ear on. Sample Brain in the opening fanfare of the First Concerto and you'll know what I mean. The slower tempo may be justified by Tuckwell's scholarly researches, yet he doesn't do quite enough to convince us that this is the only way the music can go.
The best accompanied versions of these concertos are Kempe's (EMI), where soloist Peter Damm has a distinctive vibrato quite different from Tuckwell's open tone. It cannot be said that the RPO is particularly distinguished here. Of course, Ashkenazy secures some sensitive playing now and again. Balancing that, there are signs of panic in the last movement of the First Concerto with tuttis rushed and scrambled. Long takes are all very well but in the Andante of the Second Concerto, the strings could have been improved upon from 3'00'' onwards. In general, the forward placing of the horn only emphasizes Tuckwell's tendency to go sharp on forced high notes, while string tone is not up to the finest standards of the house in what, for Decca, is normally a successful venue—Walthamstow Town Hall. The overall ambience is certainly pleasantly warm and your system may well respond more favourably than mine.
In short, this is a well-intentioned and enterprising disc—Tuckwell has gone back to the original manuscripts of both concertos—but ultimately just a little disappointing.'