I used to say ''no one plays the Gayaneh 'Sabre Dance' like the Russians''. Now I must qualify that and say instead—like the Armenians. For Khachaturian was himself Armenian, and so is the conductor, Loris Tjeknavorian, who showed his natural affinity for the music of his compatriot with a complete analogue RCA recording (4/77) of the original score of Gayaneh, which urgently needs a CD issue (it is incomparable in its field). Certainly on the present recording the ''Sabre Dance'' bursts into the room with explosive impetus and bite. The Sabre dancers are closely followed by the young maidens who come in as if the sabres were being flourished directly behind them, and hard on their heels come the Mountaineers who obviously have the Abominable Snowman in hot pursuit. With the brilliant recording projecting everything in burnished primary colours the effect is exhilarating, yet a shade wearing, so that the haunting ''Lullaby'' provides a welcome respite. But not for long, as the ''Lezghinka'' immediately develops a similar, almost frenetic thrust (rather more here than in the composer's own recording).
The Masquerade Suite has comparable spirit and gusto but some of its charm evaporates in consequence—notably in the ''Waltz'', with the ebullient closing ''Galop'' suggesting a circus band in an agreeably vulgar manner. The music from Spartacus is comparably vibrant and energetic, and although the famous ''Adagio of Spartacus and Phrygia'' opens with a beguiling aura of romantic anticipation, the climax develops great Slavonic ardour, and one wishes the recording were a shade more sumptuous to increase the opulence of the justly famous, expansive string climax.
Ippolitov's Caucasian Sketches are little more than picture postcards with sinuous sub-Rimsky-Korsakov eastern melodies. Tjeknavorian makes the most of the oriental atmosphere thus generated, but cannot disguise the fact that the hit number, the spectacular closing ''Procession of the Sardar'' is head and shoulders above the rest in memorability. It is played with great elan and here Brian Culverhouse's brightly lit recording comes fully into its own.'