A final act of daring in the symphony – the way Anissimov leads up to and lands us in the grim majesty of the finale’s coda, from 12'00'' – is a moment that almost erases from the memory thoughts that his conducting of the rest of the movement is under-motivated and cautious. This is a grave and measured view of the symphony, with tempos uniformly slower than Ashkenazy’s, and it takes a while to impress its positive virtues on the listener (the halving of tempo for the first- movement second group’s dreams is too much, too soon). But among those positive virtues are a completely natural rubato, a satisfyingly dark saturation and body to the massed string sound, and affecting shaping of all the score’s more tender and reflective moments (flute and string principals are outstanding). As to the recorded sound, Naxos here offers a modern concert-hall experience, without the vagaries of balance of the recent EMI/Jansons.
If the coupling appeals – Rachmaninov’s answer to Tchaikovsky’s Italian and Rimsky-Korsakov’s Spanish Caprices, its final pages dispatched here with dazzling aplomb – this disc may be deemed worth anyone’s fiver. The problem is that Ashkenazy’s Concertgebouw account of the symphony (at mid-price and paired with The isle of the dead), is in a different league. The difference is felt less in the quality of the playing, which is a tribute to Anissimov’s relationship with the Irish orchestra, but in the sweep, fire and brilliance of Ashkenazy’s conducting, and his 1982 Decca recording’s still-wonderful synthesis of vibrant presence and wide-open spaces.'