The Schumann symphonies and Cello Concerto were recorded in Manhattan Center, New York during October 1960 and exhibit sonic characteristics that were fairly typical of contemporary CBS engineering. wide channel separation, dry but realistic string bands, spotlit winds and timpani, and powerful brass set fairly well back (horns particularly). There is some (though not much) evidence of tape deterioration, but if spaciousness and tonal lustre are essential prerequisites, and you want Bernstein in this repertoire at all costs, then you'd be better advised to opt for his generally more indulgent but better-recorded DG/Vienna Philharmonic re-makes. However, I admit a marked preference for this earlier New York set.
After a broad opening Andante, it's sleeves rolled up for a busy and joyous Spring Symphony—the one instance here where both the New York and Vienna performances can vie for supremacy. Vitality is a familiar Bernstein hallmark: the outer movements have tremendous drive (as with the Second and Fourth Symphonies, the first movement repeat is played), the scherzo is stocky and forceful, and only the Larghetto seems to me lacking in a sense of line. The Second Symphony is muscular and thick-textured, but if you're averse to excessive rubato, then steer clear although not as extreme as the VPO alternative; this too is rich in what I like to call 'punctuation'—some of which works (witness the way Bernstein leans on the little phrase that leads back to the exposition repeat), and some of which seems (at least to me) miscalculated. The Adagio is more espressivo than most (nearly 13 minutes, and verging on the Mahlerian), the scherzo and final Allegro full of vim and vigour. But always one has the feeling that Bernstein knows what he's about and Schumann himself is never short-changed.
The Rhenish starts out with animated accompanying string lines; cellos and basses buzz excitedly, and the movement as a whole is despatched with a delightful, swaying gait. The Scherzo is broad, even a mite oafish (not inappropriately) and Bernstein exhibits real sensitivity in his flexible handling of Schumann's Nicht schnell third movement. The rest is typically earnest and weighty; the fourth and fifth movements follow each other attacca, as do the first two movements of the Fourth Symphony. Here, as elsewhere, Bernstein speeds when the temperature rises, but the quieter music retains an unsettling ambiguity, a quality that only the most sensitive Schumann interpreters are able to relate. This is very much a 'through' conception of the Fourth: dark, punchy and ultimately exultant.
The two overtures are superb, although in Manfred, recorded in Brooklyn in 1958, stereo imagery contracts so dramatically that I momentarily wondered (wrongly) whether we'd suddenly switched to 'aired' mono. The performance of the Cello Concerto somehow misses its mark. Bernstein is obviously at one with its reflective spirit, but although Leonard Rose plays beautifully and phrases with his customary warmth and elegance, he seems a step or two removed from the F heart of the work: comparison with, say, Heinrich Schiff (Philips) or Andre Navarra (Supraphon) will prove the point. And so to Schubert, a rare overture and a delightful symphony. Des Teufels Lustschloss, or ''The Devil's Pleasure Palace'', was Schubert's first completed opera and its overture is a fairly animated piece, albeit a rather unmemorable one. This 'first release'' performance is good, although its delayed appearance is hardly surprising, given the previous absence of a suitable programme context. The Fifth Symphony, though, is a winner from start to finish: quietly stylish (try the little diminuendo at the tail-end of the first movement's exposition), affectionate, subtly dynamic where needed (especially in the Menuetto) and with moments of pure magic—such as the start of the first movement's development section. It's the sort of performance that instantly demolishes those tiresome cliches that refer to Bernstein's oft-rumoured 'brashness'.
As to these discs' precise placing in the rich firmament of mid-price alternatives, the position remains much as it was: for the symphonies, it's either the poetic Kubelik (Sony—see above) or the assertive Sawallisch; for the Cello Concerto, Du Pre or Starker, and for the Schubert symphony, Beecham or Klemperer. Bernstein offers highly creditable alternatives to all of these and if, ultimately, I'd pass them by in preference to the above, that's not to underestimate their considerable virtues. At the price, they're worth anyone's time and money.'