The alchemy ''that turneth all to gold'', active in Shaw's recording of the Missa solemnis (Telarc/Conifer (CD) CD80150, 11/88), does not appear to have been at work here. The performance is likeable, reliable, sensible, musical—which of course are fine things to be—but anyone practised in reading between lines in a critical review will know that they hint, politely, at dullness. If it is recording rather than performance that is being discussed, then 'dullness' may be taken to hint, politely, at something worse.
The Atlanta Symphony Chorus is, as one would expect under such a conductor, a fine body of singers, well-balanced and well-trained; they deserve to be properly heard. A veil is put over them. The orchestra itself is not sharply recorded, but the orchestral parts are firmly etched compared with the mild wash of choral sound. The soloists are clear enough, but this is another factor in the relegation of the chorus. A choir that has been trained (as some are) to produce a hard, aggressively-edged tone might still be effective under such conditions, but these are singers who have been taught to produce a beautiful quality of tone, well-rounded and never strident even at fortissimo. So this is not the recording system for them. As examples, hear how dully the ''Hosanna'' figure announces itself at the end of the Benedictus, and how in the Agnus Dei the effect is that of an orchestral piece with choral accompaniment.
Comparison makes the point still more forcibly. The Chailly version on Decca also could do with more forward recording of the choir, but the sound here is much more sharply defined. Running parallel with this is the difference between the performances themselves. Chailly is consistently quicker. In the Kyrie, Beethoven has done his best to say what he wants: Andante con moto, assai vivace, quasi allegretto ma non troppo. Chailly, if not quite assai vivace, at least takes up the con moto; Shaw stops at andante. Similarly in the Gloria, marked Allegro con brio, there is simply not enough of the con brio in Shaw. Where he does have something valuable to offer is in the ''Qui tollis'' section, where the detached quavers in the orchestral bass act as the pulse of a threnody to give a suggestion of weight (in the sins of the world), whereas Chailly seems to see them as not much more than a 'neutral' accompanying figure. Shaw's soloists also are uniformly good, his tenor better integrated into the quartet than was Bruno Beccaria with Chailly.
In Meeresstille it is Chailly who has the longer timing; yet I doubt whether one would think so while listening, for his performance, being the more imaginative, interesting and clearly defined as recorded sound, is never felt to drag. The Elegischer Gesang, a bonus in Shaw's programme, is a deeply felt, compassionate piece of writing and sensitively performed; but the veil still hangs, and the words of the anonymous poet are for the most part inaudible.'