Asrael started out as Josef Suk’s homage to his 
                  father-in-law Antonín Dvořák, but after the 
                  early death of Suk’s wife - who was also Dvořák’s 
                  daughter - midway through its composition, went on to become 
                  a memorial to both. Considering the connections of both the 
                  composer and the work to Dvořák, it is surprising 
                  how little it sounds like any of his symphonies. The cor anglais 
                  has a prominent role in the first movement, recalling perhaps 
                  the Ninth, and the woodwind colouring has a similar Czech flavour. 
                  That said, in general this is the music of a composer who has 
                  successfully moved out of the shadow of his great predecessor. 
                  
                    
                  And while Dvořák’s music succeeds or fails 
                  on the strength of its melodic invention, Suk is far more interested 
                  in drama, texture and above all innovative orchestration. He 
                  is brave enough regularly to reduce the orchestra to a handful 
                  of instruments, and to give solos to the tuba, to the low woodwinds 
                  and to all sorts of other unlikely candidates. The percussion 
                  section is also put through its paces; there aren’t too 
                  many unusual instruments there, but cymbals and timpani make 
                  regular and unusual contributions to the louder passages. 
                    
                  The work is usually known as Suk’s 2nd Symphony, 
                  and it is interesting that this designation is not given on 
                  the packaging for this recording. Generically, it sits somewhere 
                  between tone poem - albeit of the most abstract kind - and late-Romantic 
                  symphony. In Dvořák, these two creative impulses 
                  serve a common cause, but Suk sets them apart, leaving interpreters 
                  the job of deciding which direction the music should take. 
                    
                  Libor Pešek is determined to maintain a symphonic coherency, 
                  which occasionally means foregoing atmosphere and involvement. 
                  There are occasional caesuras between sections that seem all 
                  too brief, and the conductor’s restraint is often apparent 
                  in the tuttis. On the other hand, the build-ups and other large-scale 
                  structural devices are all excellently handled. A work that 
                  could otherwise seem incoherent and rambling is presented as 
                  a tight symphonic unit. 
                    
                  The Liverpool Philharmonic are on good form, demonstrating that 
                  even before the arrival of Vasily Petrenko - the recordings 
                  were made in the early 1990s - the orchestra was a force to 
                  be reckoned with. Top musical honours go to the woodwinds, who 
                  have their work cut out in both symphonies but prove they are 
                  well up to the task. The strings and brass are occasionally 
                  a little messy, but not to the extent of spoiling the experience. 
                  
                    
                  Asrael proved to be a defining point in Suk’s career, 
                  and many of his later orchestral works function as sequels of 
                  one sort or another. A Summer’s Tale was the first 
                  of these. As the title suggests, it is slightly more cheery, 
                  although it is never carefree as such, and there is always a 
                  sardonic streak underlying its happier episodes. We are really 
                  in tone poem rather than symphony territory here, but Pešek 
                  maintains a firm grip on the structure and large-scale progressions. 
                  It is a more melodic work than Asrael, and again the 
                  woodwind carry the bulk of the melodic material. Generally speaking 
                  though, the melodies are pleasant and stylistically coherent, 
                  rather than memorable and propulsive as in Dvořák. 
                  
                    
                  This double CD is a re-release of two discs that were originally 
                  issued separately. Given the modest price, anybody buying it 
                  for the Asrael alone would be churlish to complain about 
                  the addition of the lesser known Summer’s Tale. 
                  The Asrael was nominated for a Gramophone Award in 1992, 
                  and that confidence in the recording’s merits is fully 
                  justified, as is the decision to re-release it. The sound on 
                  both discs shows its age; neither has the clarity of detail 
                  we would expect from a more recent recording. But the woodwind 
                  solos are all admirably conveyed, which is a real boon for this 
                  music. 
                    
                  A commendable release then, but with the proviso that this takes 
                  into account the budget price. Both recordings are also available 
                  on Spotify if you don’t want to take the plunge, but I 
                  suspect the lower bit-rate online and the adverts between the 
                  movements will make purchasing the discs the more attractive 
                  option.   
                  
                  Gavin Dixon