This double CD set gives a good idea of that breadth 
          of musical sympathies which was a prime characteristic of Toscanini. 
        
 
        
CD1 opens with a remarkable performance of the Vaughan 
          Williams Tallis Fantasia – on the face of it, one of the last 
          works you would associate with the fiercely passionate Italian maestro. 
          Yet this is a reading that has so many wonderful virtues. The string 
          playing is of the highest calibre, not only the large ensemble but the 
          solos as well. Toscanini keeps the music moving gently forward without 
          ever seeming to press uncomfortably, and he builds the climaxes with 
          all the burning intensity one would hope for. There are one or two patches 
          of mild radio interference, and perhaps the most disappointing thing 
          is the way the audience applause bursts in almost before the final pp 
          chord has faded to silence. Despite these small annoyances, this is 
          a performance that recreates the spirit of Vaughan Williams’ unique 
          work in an extraordinarily convincing way. 
        
 
        
The same can be said of the Brahms Third Symphony that 
          follows. Again, one is aware of the superb quality of the instrumental 
          playing, which has the tightness of ensemble of chamber music. Toscanini 
          must be allowed some indulgences in his interpretation – the reduction 
          of the tone at 0:13 on Track 2 is an example, something that Brahms 
          does not specify – but Brahms is a composer he had an instinctive empathy 
          with. The first movement has an energy and alertness which captures 
          the colour and optimism of the music wonderfully, and once again, the 
          recording is sufficiently faithful to allow this to come through. It 
          is ‘top-heavy’, though, and places where the textural interest is located 
          in the middle or lower parts of the orchestra undoubtedly fare less 
          well than the fuller or more brightly scored passages. Toscanini’s gradation 
          of climaxes was always one of his greatest strengths, and the one in 
          the coda in this movement is thrilling. 
        
 
        
The slow movement is unusually quick. Then again, it 
          is marked Andante – ‘walking pace’ if you like – and seems to 
          move very naturally at this speed. There is much lovely wind playing 
          and Toscanini allows himself a deeply expressive relaxing of the tempo 
          at the beginning of the coda – 6:02 – which allows the full beauties 
          of this, one of Brahms most glorious melodic flowerings, to be experienced 
          to the full. The Poco Allegretto has plenty of the required charm 
          without spilling over into coyness, while the finale is superbly done. 
          The main part of the movement has great forward thrust and stormy grandeur, 
          while the coda is magical; it sleep-walks its way to the soft conclusion, 
          yet the textures are lucid, transparent. This is great music-making, 
          and, for me, a deeply satisfying reading of the symphony, capturing 
          its unity of inspiration. Brahms never expressed himself more concisely 
          than here, and Toscanini understood this perfectly. 
        
 
        
CD2 (once I had managed to get it out – when is somebody 
          going to DO something about the packaging of CDs?) is a more varied 
          selection. It begins with two short pieces by the Italian composer Giuseppe 
          Martucci, Notturno and Novelletta. Toscanini held Martucci 
          in high regard, and these are affectionate, beautifully phrased performances 
          of two attractive miniatures. 
        
 
        
The orchestral playing is, if anything, even better 
          on CD2, four years on, and the recording likewise. Although, I must 
          say it was surprising to hear the percussion having a little spot of 
          difficulty with Tchaikovsky’s off-beat sword-fight rhythms in this otherwise 
          stunning performance of Romeo and Juliet. Where Toscanini shows 
          his greatness is in allowing the love music, in its resplendent reappearance, 
          to surge on with irresistible urgency, so that it is felt as the cause 
          of the violence that comes in its wake. The piece thus makes so much 
          better symphonic and dramatic sense than it can do in the hands of a 
          more sentimental, sensationalist conductor. Once again, Toscanini delivers 
          one of the shortest versions on disc, without seeming to rush the music 
          along. 
         
        
 
        
        
The final couple of items on this second CD are obviously 
          make-weights in a fairly light concert programme. The symphony is given, 
          in all honesty, a pretty shoddy performance, and though the indestructible 
          character and invention of the music comes through, the orchestra sounds 
          under-rehearsed, and there are numerous rough edges. This is not helped 
          by a recording which fluctuates badly in pitch with a most disconcerting 
          effect, plus sound from another radio station which invades the quieter 
          portions of the music. Doesn’t help! 
        
 
        
Despite that, this is a set which is well worth having 
          for the Vaughan Williams, Brahms and Tchaikovsky items, which receive 
          the vintage Toscanini treatment. 
        
 
        
        
Gwyn Parry-Jones