This series is poorly named on two counts. In my book, an eight-minute 
                  overture like Bizet's Le Docteur Miracle isn't a "miniature"; 
                  neither are multi-movement suites like those of Saint-Saëns 
                  or Delibes, even if the individual movements of the latter are 
                  brief. In marketing terms, the title suggests a program comprising 
                  some of the "bittier" pieces of, say, Debussy, Bizet, 
                  and Ravel - a Pops-ish hodgepodge of the sort most collectors 
                  won't want or need. In fact, the situation is quite the reverse. 
                  Bizet's overture hasn't turned up before, as far as I know; 
                  I believe the Saint-Saëns suite and the orchestrated Franck 
                  set have, but they're not easy to find.
                   
                  The music is good. The Bizet is, perhaps not surprisingly, a 
                  lively, Offenbachish medley. The delightfully perky Aubade 
                  movement from Lalo's Divertissement makes me curious 
                  about the rest of the score. Chabrier's Habañera, with 
                  liquid clarinets coloring the rhythmic accompaniment, is languid 
                  rather than bouncy. Henri Büsser's orchestrations of Franck's 
                  short pieces are pleasing, though only the haunting flute-dominated 
                  textures after 1:26 in the fourth piece suggest the organ original.
                   
                  Douglas Bostock redeems the unfortunate impression left by his 
                  dreadful rendering of thirteen Dvorák Slavonic Dances 
                  in Intercord's "Royal Philharmonic Collection"; also 
                  on Tring. 
                  As I remarked at the time, at first I was annoyed not to have 
                  all the dances; afterwards, I was grateful for the three that 
                  we were spared. Here, however, his flowing, lyrical conducting 
                  is attentive to details of mood, capturing the rhythmic swing 
                  at the start of the Bizet, the prayerful undertone to the Sarabande 
                  in the Saint-Saëns and the tenderness of the Madrigal 
                  in the Delibes suite. The "Chamber Philharmonic of Bohemia," 
                  whatever that might be, responds alertly, producing clear textures 
                  and compact tuttis, with a tapered phrasing that is 
                  typically Czech.
                   
                  Why a chamber orchestra? Granted, the ensemble isn't that much 
                  smaller than the pit bands in some local European theatres, 
                  so such performances don't overtly misrepresent the stage pieces. 
                  The Lalo, which relies on woodwind color, sounds just fine. 
                  In the Swan Lake-ish Romance of the Saint-Saëns, 
                  the peaks blossom nicely. Elsewhere - the third theme of the 
                  Bizet, for example - the clean, carefully blended strings can't 
                  muster the required tonal body. The ethereal high violin note 
                  at 3:05 of the Habañera could have been magical 
                  with a few more players. In the Délibes suite, an affectionate 
                  Baroque hommage, there aren't enough cellos to allow 
                  the themes of the Madrigal and the shapely Scène 
                  du bouquet properly to blossom. Bostock's characterful, 
                  expressive account of this last must yield to the venerable 
                  Beecham version (EMI 
                  Classics 6318162), where the firmly weighted sound of the 
                  full-sized Royal Philharmonic allows for a wider tonal and expressive 
                  palette.
                   
                  Still, the innovative program is a must-have for Compleat Compleatists. 
                  The de luxe packaging is handsome, though I'd have 
                  preferred not to have to cut open the slipcase to extricate 
                  the jewel box; the notes on the program leaflet are minimal. 
                  Now, can someone explain how a French program performed by Czech 
                  players and an American conductor ends up on "Scandinavian 
                  Classics"?
                   
                  Stephen Francis Vasta
                  Stephen Francis Vasta is a New York-based conductor, coach, 
                  and journalist.
                   
                  see also review by Rob Barnett of original Classico release