The Fourth is probably the best of Rubinstein’s Symphonies. 
        Written in 1874 it’s a deeply uneven and ultimately unconvincing work 
        but contains enough perplexing turbulence to elevate it far beyond the 
        merely decorative, beyond the post Mendelssohnian symphonic statement. 
        If it never reaches the heights of a genuine Romantic crisis symphony 
        it contains intriguing material sufficient to warrant more than a second 
        hearing and this Naxos issue, first issued on Marco Polo 8.223319 in 1991, 
        provides just such an opportunity. 
         
        
The First Movement opens with angular and forbidding 
          string writing. A more exultant theme enters followed soon by a compelling 
          species of orchestral winding-down before an explosion in a unison string 
          outburst of genuine outpouring – a moment of deeply remarkable writing 
          and one that seems to strain the symphonic form in which it is housed. 
          Striving and eloquent strings follow, over a dancing pizzicato, as Rubinstein 
          tries out his theme in differing orchestral colours and guises. Certainly 
          the thematic material is over-repeated and it’s also somewhat underwhelming 
          in its melodic presumptions but there are some marvelous touches – at 
          17’50 for example where the delicacy of the string writing shades into 
          solos for flute, clarinet and bassoon. The conclusion of the movement 
          reveals a little orchestral untidiness from the otherwise well-equipped 
          Slovak Orchestra. The Presto contains some very oppositional writing 
          though nothing as volcanic as the earlier movement. From stern unison 
          string writing and mellow winds some jovial violin figures lead onwards 
          to lashing animation and a melody of decisive force – the solo violin 
          passage over ostinato basses adding another voice to the rich orchestral 
          patina. Some of this is rather reminiscent of Raff and early Dvořák. 
           
        
 
        
The Adagio is a freely moving slow movement in which 
          strings and wind vie for dominance. The long string melody – attractive 
          and persuasive – is later enlivened by exchanges between flutes and 
          the warmth of the divided string section. The finale picks up the quivering 
          angularities of the opening movement. Its turbulence is a classical 
          mirror of the First Movement’s divergences and disjunctions. Piccolo 
          is prominent, fractious brass increasingly so; a sturdy second theme, 
          in F Major, and a wind episode are both of charming vivacity and impel 
          the conclusion, which is both colourful and confidently triumphant. 
          A decade on the Slovak State Philharmonic performance holds up well; 
          some imprecision, a lack of string heft sometimes. But Stankovsky has 
          a good sense of the trajectory of Rubinstein’s imaginative writing and 
          guides us well and resolutely. There is at least one rival – Russian 
          Disc RDCD 11357 with the Russian State Symphony Orchestra conducted 
          by Igor Golovchin and released in 1995, which I’ve not heard. But Stankovsky’s 
          is a welcome return to the catalogue at budget price and heartily recommended. 
        
 
        
        
Jonathan Woolf