Of course there are 
                more recent Raymondas and better-recorded 
                Raymondas – though the technical standards 
                in Moscow in 1961 were by no means wanting. 
                But Svetlanov gets to heart of things 
                as well as any conductor since. Armed 
                with his usual charismatic and biting 
                vibrancy he accords the score the full 
                complement of fantasy, refinement, and 
                vigour. 
              
 
              
Armed with the sweeping 
                strings and beefy Bolshoi brass, and 
                with three excellent (named) principals, 
                this orchestra is a natural for this 
                score – preferable to the U.S.S.R State. 
                And Svetlanov doesn’t mess about –Act 
                I’s Page scene is full of bold 
                gestures and powerful striving brass. 
                Listen too the narrative unfolding of 
                the Countess’s Story and its 
                winding wind passages, so aptly descriptive 
                here. The Bolshoi’s trumpet principal 
                was Oleg Usach and his brassy, hugely 
                vibrated sound can be heard in the Act 
                I Dance scene. There’s also a 
                delightful lilt and lift in the Grand 
                Waltz and an incremental power in 
                the Mime Scene – but what sheen 
                and delicacy in its early stages. Here 
                as elsewhere details are splendidly 
                controlled by Svetlanov and there Is 
                no sense of grandiloquence for its own 
                sake or the feeling that he and the 
                orchestra are turning these little movements 
                into mere orchestral playthings. 
              
 
              
Harpist Vera Dulova 
                imparts some rippling virtuosity, bardic 
                feel and, not least, romance in the 
                Prelude and Romanesca. A real 
                standout is the Entr’acte between 
                scenes seven and eight where the gravity 
                and warmth of the writing is crowned 
                by a shattering climax dominated by 
                Usach’s blisteringly braying trumpet. 
                It’s not pretty – but it is exciting. 
                The Bolshoi’s leader was Sergei Kalinovsky 
                and his eloquent playing in the Grand 
                Adagio is suitably memorable. So 
                too is the way in which Svetlanov brings 
                out the counter-themes in Scene VIII’s 
                Coda – vital and fulsome. 
              
 
              
Svetlanov’s ear for 
                rhythmic buoyancy – never gabbled or 
                over stressed - pays rich dividends 
                in Act II’s Fourth variation, 
                the one for Raymonda. And still he seldom 
                misses a trick – note the wittily phrased 
                Entrance of the Jugglers and 
                the intense and exciting Bacchanal. 
                The floridity of the Arrival of the 
                Knight and King is resplendent here 
                and for pompous nobility Svetlanov takes 
                some beating in Act III’s Entrance 
                scene. It was a Glazunovian coup, 
                richly exploited by the conductor here, 
                to follow it with the touching and delicate 
                Classical Hungarian Dance.
              
 
              
As these more delicate 
                and refined moments show, Svetlanov 
                is alert to the Gallicisms inherent 
                in the score as indeed he is to the 
                more grandiloquent Borodin-derived ones 
                as well. He strikes a fine balance, 
                literally and figuratively, between 
                the two. The 1961 sound is certainly 
                serviceable though it has its raw moments. 
              
 
              
Jonathan Woolf