It is a long time since I heard such a naturally warm and affectionate reading of the New World Symphony as Sawallisch in this, his first recording with the Philadelphia Orchestra. It is coupled with an equally winning and relaxed account of the Scherzo capriccioso, which by rights should put this among the most desirable of all versions of the New World, the most duplicated of all romantic symphonies on record. Sadly, it is not as simple as that, when the Philadelphia jinx which besets all that great orchestra's recording halls, not least the latest, the Memorial Hall in Fairmount Park, has struck with Sawallisch as it has with Muti. It is true that with Sawallisch consciously drawing a sweeter, more rounded sound from these players than their Music Director, the bass-heavy roundness of the recording is less at odds with the performance, but as ever the textures grow very thick and opaque in any loud tutti. So Sawallisch's heavenly performance of the slow movement ravishes the ear in one delicate passage after another, but the pizzicato bass in the central section is boomy and not well focused, as though the bass control is turned up too high. The rustic-pipe pastoral episode towards the end sounds well, less sharp than usual but sunnier, and then for the fortissimo reference to the motto theme following it, the jinx strikes at full force, crowding the texture, bringing not only a loss of clarity but less sense of presence.
In the other, louder and faster movements the problem is more marked, though I have to emphasize that some machines may respond much better than mine, and that some listeners may not worry at all about a fault that in effect is intermittent. Even some fortissimos escape, such as the crisply dramatic opening of the finale (taken at an excitingly fast speed), for there the brass is dominant and the writing mainly chordal, not at all contrapuntal.
I have analysed these points on the soundquality in some detail, hoping and expecting that many collectors will readily anticipate not being troubled by them, and so will investigate performances that are exceptionally sympathetic. The playing is even more refined and beautiful than that of the Cleveland Orchestra for Dohnanyi on Decca and unlike Dohnanyi, Sawallisch observes the exposition repeat in the first movement. In each movement his use of rhythm and rubato is subtler and more affectionate. It is the sort of treatment that might lay itself open to accusations of self-indulgence, except that under Sawallisch the playing sounds so consistently fresh and spontaneous in its expressiveness.
The prospective purchaser might well try the Scherzo capriccioso first, for there Sawallisch's affection for Dvorak comes out most winningly of all, with lilting treatment of the three-in-a-bar dance rhythms that cajoles the ear, making them near neighbours of the Viennese waltz. It is a comment on the Decca recording quality of the 1960s, that Kertesz's versions both of the symphony and of the Scherzo are cleaner and more sharply focused than the new EMI, showing their age remarkably little. But Kertesz's treatment of the Scherzo capriccioso, generally adopting faster speeds, sounds rather fierce next to Sawallisch's. That there is a marked time-discrepancy between the two is not just due to the speeds, but because Sawallisch in his expansiveness observes the repeat in the central episode with its cor anglais solo. It is a flawed record then, but one which will give a lot of pleasure to many.'