Jansons brings his superb Tchaikovsky cycle near to completion with an account of the most awkward work of the series which, defying all interpretative problems, glows with freshness and vitality. Currently on record this is the most neglected Tchaikovsky symphony. The only direct comparison is Rostropovich's mid-price version on Eminence, reissued 18 month ago but on LP and cassette, not CD. It is a warm and volatile reading characteristic of Rostropovich, well recorded for its period but with orchestral ensemble less crisp than in either the new Jansons performance or—even more strikingly—the brilliant Karajan performance, which currently is available only as part of a two-record set of Tchaikovsky symphonies (DG 415 024-1GX2, 10/85). Jansons's is the only CD version, but I predict that even when there are many more competitors in the new medium it will stay firmly at the head of the list, recorded with a richness and bloom that is the Chandos trademark, and with performances clear and direct, totally unsentimental, which yet convey the warmth as well as the exuberance of Tchaikovsky's inspiration.
The obvious likenesses in the second subject of the first movement to Swan Lake (written at very much the same period) are delectably pointed, both the haunting oboe melody and the ''little swans'' passage on bassoon and clarinet, but it is the irresistible sweep of urgency with which Jansons builds the argument of the development section which sets his performances apart. It is noticeable that he varies the basic tempo less than his rivals (far less than Rostropovich) and that adds to the structural strengths of his reading. After that he relaxes, and his reading of the second movement Alla tedesca, far lighter and more lilting and faster than with his rivals, is a revelation. Where in the Andante elegiaco slow movement Karajan is surprisingly brisk and matter-of-fact Jansons even outshines the expressive Rostropovich in tenderness and refinement of detail, a heartwarming performance. In the fourth movement Scherzo Jansons has more fantasy than his rivals, bringing out the Mendelssohnian elfin quality, but it is his swaggering reading of the finale—always in danger of sounding bombastic—which sets the seal on his success. His shaping of the anthem-like second subject avoids the usual squareness both in the initial statement and even in the big broadening at the end, which punches home hard but is never coarse. There is only one minor reservation, and that may be a question of recording balance. Where Karajan in a relatively harsh and close recording yet draws a genuinely hushed pianissimo from the Berlin strings, the dynamic contrast with the Oslo players is less extreme even on CD, which in every way marginally outshines the LP version in precision and clarity.'