This is the final release in Naxos’ Martinu Symphonic 
          cycle and the first I’ve heard. It’s excellent news that an inexpensive 
          series exists – the Martinu discography is notoriously changeable – 
          because this is a body of work that deserves close and consistently 
          involved scrutiny. In the 3rd Symphony I listened to Ancerl’s 
          1966 Czech Philharmonic broadcast. There is no comparison in sound – 
          Ancerl’s is constricted, somewhat muddied and with a cut treble but 
          one can hear that theirs is a palpably more febrile and spontaneous 
          opening than Fagen – but unlike the Ukrainian performance Ancerl doesn’t 
          show all his structural cards at once and the sense of powerful things 
          being held in reserve is everywhere felt. The Czechs realise the rhythmic 
          attack in the middle of the first movement with perfect tone and unstoppable 
          impetus – the off the beat writing and the bassoon’s winding line are 
          both well brought out by Ancerl, much less well by Fagen – as is the 
          recapitulation of that remorseless, insistent and obsessive opening 
          theme; Ancerl’s climax is really blazing. In the tragic largo Fagen 
          piles on huge dark sonorities – most impressive in its way but emerging 
          as generic and gestural. Nevertheless it’s good to hear the clarity 
          of Martinu’s favoured orchestral piano for once. Fagen’s flautist is 
          straight here with some nice plinking accompaniment whereas Ancerl’s 
          is in the highest Czech tradition – a vocal and personalized colourist 
          who brings out the neo-classical elements embedded in the score. It’s 
          most instructive to contrast the succeeding fugal section; played with 
          sweeping understanding by Ancerl, for Fagen it is more of a romanticised 
          interlude, rather inaptly sitting on the fabric of the music – a syntactical 
          error, I think. The Finale shows equally divergent attitudes. Ancerl 
          takes 9 ½ minutes, Fagen 11 ½. The Czech conductor takes off at a tremendous 
          lick, without breathlessness of attack or smudged articulation; he is 
          vituperative here and evinces consistently more levels of activity and 
          engagement, as differentiated from mere velocity – this is not a matter 
          of speed it’s more a question of structural integrity and tempo relation 
          – at both of which Fagen cannot ultimately compete with Ancerl. The 
          older man gives full rein to Martinu’s voicings in his bustling orchestral 
          rhythms. By comparison Fagen is too fitful, too impassive in the face 
          of the generated tension of Ancerl and insufficiently determined to 
          delineate Martinu’s multifaceted writing. 
        
 
        
What is true of the 3rd is truer of the 
          5th. Ancerl recorded this commercially and it is in good 
          sound. In the first movement he shows a much greater sense of rhythmic 
          impetus and anxious momentum, is crisper and more decisive. He is one 
          minute quicker in the Larghetto – with commanding angularity of string 
          and woodwind writing and he’s also wittier than Fagen. Ancerl shows 
          decisively how Martinu’s neo-classicism can be made to entwine within 
          the weave of the writing and not exist as some technical imposition 
          upon it; his "integrationist" expertise is surely unmatched 
          in this repertoire. Ancerl’s trumpet solo is one of affirmation here 
          as is the bursting into life of the whole orchestra and his violin solo 
          emerges "in the balance" – and not wiry and tremulous as is 
          Fagen’s. Ancerl’s figuration is clearer, Fagen’s rhythms less taut. 
          In the final movement it is Fagen who is distinctly quicker. He employs 
          a subtle range of dynamics here, well caught by the engineers, and is 
          excellent at bringing out the composer’s bluffness, especially in the 
          transition passage to the allegro but there is never quite as much fresh 
          air in his performance as there is in Ancerl’s; it sounds rather more 
          earthbound. String tone, despite recorded quality, is also in the Czechs’ 
          favour – but Fagen ends well, capturing the rather abrupt and disconcerting 
          conclusion with real understanding. 
        
 
        
Comparing Ancerl with Fagen is decisively to the former’s 
          advantage but this is not to suggest that Fagen’s is a negligible account. 
          His is a cogent and cohesive traversal of these symphonies – only the 
          very greatest performances could withstand close scrutiny with Ancerl’s 
          and if Fagen falls in this regard then he is in good company. Fagen 
          is a sensitive and sensible guide – these are certainly not shattering 
          accounts but they are more than merely worthwhile. 
        
 
        
        
Jonathan Woolf