Four very different views of Schumann the symphonist – Harnoncourt the stylized revisionist, Vonk the energetic traditionalist, Barenboim the burgeoning romantic and Wit, poised somewhere between the latter two. And for those of you who normally like to skip to the end of a review for the final verdict I may as well ‘spill the beans’ now and proffer a definite preference for Vonk. True, there are occasional weaknesses – in the Second Symphony, for example, where the exposition repeat starts with a jolt (4'18") and the important horn/trumpet dialogue 8'30" into the first movement lacks focus – but elsewhere Vonk’s sensitivity, dynamism and refreshing lack of mannerism make for an invigorating cycle. Harnoncourt’s Second, like Vonk’s, opens to a finely paced introduction, and note the chilling sforzando violas at 2'57" (Herreweghe – Harmonia Mundi, 8/96 – made the same point). The main body of the first movement is elegantly phrased and nicely conversational, albeit with a somewhat bland development build-up (7'09"). The Scherzo is typically inflected (note the violins’ drop to piano at 0'20" – as prescribed) with a sleek, almost throw-away first trio and a second where sparing vibrato suggests a certain chasteness. The Adagio approximates a song without words: there’s an effective darkening of texture at bar 25 (1'49"), with beautifully cushioned horn/trumpet triplets and an effective poco a poco thereafter.

Barenboim’s Second opens to a sullen tread that seems to lead nowhere – until a ‘wake-me-up’ accelerando hurries us into the main Allegro. Viewed ‘of a piece’, it’s a maddening amalgam of expressive ideas and minor miscalculations, sometimes delicate, sometimes heavy-handed and with some shabby ensemble. Were Barenboim to re-record the work now, preferably live and in Berlin, I’m sure the results would be vastly superior. And yet there is some beautiful string playing in the Adagio and finely etched detail in the finale, not least the Mendelssohnian winds and strings (violins one bar after fig. P are truly piano dolce). Barenboim’s Rhenish opens muddily (you can hardly hear violas or second violins) and is generally overweight, while in the second movement – at fig. E (5'13") – there’s a generous unmarked ritardando. The nicht schnell third movement features clearly pulsing violas but the finale, although warm in overall manner, is sluggish.

Vonk’s Rhenish opens with appropriate ebullience: this is Schumann ‘straight from the shoulder’, though some accents are a mite over-stated. Harnoncourt treats the same symphony to much dovetailing and tapering, although I strained to hear important strings doubling woodwinds 0'38" into the first movement. The third movement has a poetic flexibility that reminded me somewhat of Kubelik (for CBS/Sony) and the whole performance is informed by a host of delicate observation. Antoni Wit’s Naxos recording is more resonant than Harnoncourt’s, clearer than Barenboim’s but less ‘present’ than Vonk’s. The performance itself is fairly good, save that the second movement – which builds to a fine climax – opens to a plodding gait (somewhere beneath Schumann’s prescribed metronome) and the third lacks inflectional variety. Wit’s account of the Spring Symphony has rather more character, though I do wish he hadn’t slowed down quite so violently at the lustrous string passage 10'00" into the first movement (nine bars after fig. D): Harnoncourt’s in tempo treatment proves beyond reasonable doubt that no reduction in tempo is necessary. Wit’s Larghetto is expressive but oddly immobile (quaver=56 rather than 66) whereas in the finale, a gradual accelerando for the principal subject proves wearisome on repetition. I preferred Wit’s more memorable coupling of Symphonies Nos. 2 and 4, though collectors wanting to complete the set are assured of some sterling virtues – interpretative intelligence, energetic execution and good recording quality being among them.

Harnoncourt heralds Spring with a shapely introduction, then proceeds to an Allegro molto vivace where lightness, clarity (violin desks divided left and right) and subtle shifts in tempo are the order of the day. The scherzo verges on the Schubertian, with a gently brushed first trio and a second that opens legato and toughens as it proceeds. Harnoncourt is more effective than Vonk in projecting the introduction’s soft exchanges between flute/clarinets and horns (1'32" on Vonk’s CD), but to compare the opening of Vonk’s Larghetto with Wit’s is to realize the former’s palpable superiority, most especially in terms of flow, warmth of feeling and overall commitment. Harnoncourt is cool but imaginative.

Vonk’s performance of the revised Fourth has immense gusto and impressive weight of tone. I was particularly taken by the balancing of string lines at 2'28", so that each phrase tells in relation to its neighbour. Everything sounds right, and yet subtly personalized rubato lends the performance its own quiet distinction. Harnoncourt has also taped the 1851 score (in Berlin in concert, and to fine effect), but the recording reissued here is of the 1841 first version, of which Brahms once said that it had a “charm, lightness of touch and clarity of expression” that was largely lost in the revision. Could Brahms have envisaged the sort of post-period performance that Harnoncourt offers us here? I am not entirely sure. Again, textures are transparent, rhythms taut – especially in the scherzo and finale – and performance as a whole suggests augmented chamber music. Personally speaking, I prefer the more forthright Roy Goodman recording on RCA, while Harnoncourt seems to me on more spontaneous form for his live recording of the 1851 revision: here he appears to be labouring too many points, stressing the “charm and lightness” at the expense of genuine urgency (a prerequisite for both versions of the symphony).