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Mahler Symphony No. 4. Lucia Popp (sop) London Philharmonic Orchestra / Klaus Tennstedt.
 
HMV digital (Full price) (LP) ASD4344 (Cassette) TCC-ASD4344.
 
Selected comparisons
 
NYPO, Walter (r. 1946) (7/73R) 61357-8.
 
Cleveland, Szell (8/67) (4/69R) 61056
 
Bav RO, Kubelik (12/68) (8/75R) 2535 119.

At least eight of the currently available versions of Mahler's Fourth Symphony are recommendable in one way or another, though if I forswear earnest perusal of the symphony's entry in the Gramophone Classical Catalogue I am left recalling a handful of specially memorable things: Bruno Walter's inimitable motioning of the music (CBS), Szell's rapt detailing (also on CBS) and the alfresco charm of Kubelik's Bavarian recording on DG. To which I think it's safe to add Tennstedt's delightful open-handedness. Tennstedt's is as spirited and unaffected a reading as any I've heard since Kletzki's (HMV SXLP30054, 9/66—nla); but because Tennstedt's treatment of Mahler's frequently unanticipated changes of tempo is frank without being in any sense disruptive of the work's structure, vitality and organic integrity are better reconciled by him than they were by Kletzki's more free-wheeling approach. Tennstedt's is a genuinely naif reading which eschews editorializing—once, that is, we are past the huge ritardando (a putative 'once upon a time'?) which he makes into the first melody. There's no lack of power in his reading but there is a consistent and pleasing absence of willfulness. Mahler's remark "there are no fortissimos in my Fourth Symphony", a literal lie but a metaphorical truth, is well adhered to here. The first movement climax is full of exhilaration and joy, bereft of the kind of portentousness and looming darkness which a conductor like Solti draws from the music (Decca 7BB178, 11/75).

Tennstedt's handling of tempos and detail is equally impressive in the second and third movements. The devilish Scherzo is trenchant and brightly lit, as engagingly grotesque as an illustration by Rackham. The playing of the LPO cellos at the start of the slow movement is masterly, eloquent and restful, the players using Tennstedt's breadth (his tempo is as slow as Szell's or Mengelberg's) to suggest space and ease of utterance. Later, Tennstedt's open-handed approach to tempo changes ensures, once again, a continuous flow of musical incident. Lucia Popp, who is given a natural concert-hall balance, makes no attempt to ladle out Viennese charm.

Tennstedt's performance is, in sum, as direct, as specific, as unsentimental, and as affecting as a well-told fairy tale. The digital recording is pleasingly clear, whilst the playing of the LPO mellow in manner but wonderfully sharp in points of detail and style—is everything Sir Thomas Beecham might have wished it to be 50 years after the orchestra's foundation.
RO