Hearing Abbado and the Chamber Orchestra of Europe perform Symphony No. 93 at a Barbican Hall concert in London in December 1989, I was impressed by the vivacity, suppleness and high polish of the playing while occasionally feeling that Abbado brought to the music an undue sophistication. The performance on this disc bears out those impressions. Abbado's reading has a fine sweep and control, and is superbly realized by his crack Euro-orchestra. Tempos are acutely judged, the opening Allegro assai verging on one-in-a-bar (rather more rapid than from Davis and the Concertgebouw on a mid-price Philips disc) but still broad enough to convey a certain grandeur, the Minuet a healthy Allegro, the final Presto duly observing Haydn's ma non troppo qualification. But at times, especially in the first and third movements, I found the detailed refinement of Abbado's phrasing dangerously close to preciosity: I'm thinking, for instance, of the little hesitations in both main themes of the Allegro assai, the unmarked drop from piano to pianissimo during the course of the second theme, and the relaxations in tempo for the lyrical phrases that answer the martial fanfares in the trio. Davis and the Concertgebouw, though hardly less polished, are more direct in manner and, for me, more convincing, here and elsewhere. Theirs is a glorious performance that captures Haydn's robust warmth of spirit, his mingled simplicity and subtlety, more surely than Abbado's often sympathetic but occasionally self-conscious-sounding reading.

I had far fewer reservations about The Clock, which receives a really splendid performance, with the players relishing to the full the outer movements' uninhibited delight in sheer orchestral virtuosity. The lissom string playing is something to marvel at, and here refinement does not preclude a sense of spontaneity—listen to the cheeky, deftly sprung second theme of the opening Presto, for instance, where one is reminded of Abbado's mastery in Rossini. Equally compelling are the strings' power and precision in the turbulent D minor episode of the finale, and the feathery delicacy of the ensuing pianissimo fugato.

Abetted by his marvellously responsive players, Abbado brings a lightness of gait and a chamber-musical finesse to the famous ticking Andante, while his tempo is broad enough for the G minor section to register with due weight and gravitas. (I do wonder, though, on what authority he introduces added appoggiaturas in bars 18 and 19.) The only movement that gave me mixed pleasure was the Minuet, taken at a very smart Allegretto indeed. With Abbado's subtly phrased accompaniment the Trio has the easy sway of a Viennese waltz; but for all its energy (the fz accents punched home fiercely) the main section does seem a bit breathless, even aggressive—short on dignity and grandeur. Still, this is as vital a Clock as any in the current catalogue, though when the Davis version ultimately appears on CD it will have a formidable competitor. The recording, made in the Vienna Konzerthaus, is full and spacious, with clear woodwind detail and plenty of impact from brass and timpani. That of No. 93, though, made in Berlin's Jesus-Christus Kirche, is distinctly less successful; rather close and lacking in bloom, with unduly recessed horns and trumpets and slightly muffled timpani. Incidentally, two symphonies at 50 minutes is a pretty niggardly CD ration, and I hope DG will consider giving us three symphonies in any future Haydn issues from this team.'