We live in post-h.i.p times. That's post historically 
                  informed practice to you and me, the term Andrew Manze uses 
                  to describe his Brahms interpretations. He's hardly alone 
                  in that approach: Norrington, Harnoncourt, Mackerras and Gardiner 
                  have all performed Brahms with modern orchestras but using ideas 
                  from the period performance world. All seem to have moved on 
                  further from h.i.p. dogmas than Manze, whose loyalty to the 
                  letter of the score and unwillingness to apply rubato occasionally 
                  make him seem positively reactionary. Evidently it's 
                  post-h.i.p. to be square.
                   
                  Nevertheless, these recordings have much to commend them, and 
                  Manze achieves his goal, whether h.i.p. or post-h.i.p., of breathing 
                  new life into works stifled by their own performance traditions. 
                  Manze discusses his approach at length in his liner-note. He 
                  comes over as erudite but makes no excuses for his occasional 
                  idiosyncrasies. Other scholars and conductors have been through 
                  the source materials before, but Manze has found new insights 
                  by studying the composer's own piano duet arrangements, 
                  which have many phrasing marks that didn't make it into 
                  the orchestral scores. Manze also traces the gradual changes 
                  in Brahms interpretation through the 20th century. 
                  His aim is to extrapolate back to Brahms' own time in 
                  the hope of capturing something of the original feel of the 
                  works. These days everybody knows that's a fool's 
                  errand, but the musical insights that result make for satisfying 
                  listening, whatever the historical veracity of the approach.
                   
                  In terms of tempos, Manze contends that the allegros have become 
                  slower and the adagios faster over the years. There has also 
                  been, he suggests, a huge increase in the amount of rubato applied. 
                  Since Brahms himself wrote not to slow up unless the score says 
                  so, Manze is surely justified in his more austere approach.
                   
                  The effect is to bring out the Classical character in this music. 
                  You'll often hear echoes of Beethoven and even Mozart 
                  that don't come through in more liberal interpretations. 
                  In the first movement of the First Symphony, for example, the 
                  music is fast and steady, creating a sense of inexorable, tragic 
                  and even fatalistic momentum. In the first movement of the Second, 
                  the trombone chorales sound for all the world like the graveyard 
                  scene of Don Giovanni.
                   
                  Critical reaction so far has been surprisingly uniform in its 
                  praise. I'd anticipate a little more disagreement among 
                  listeners as these recordings become better known, as they surely 
                  will be. Comparison with Harnoncourt or Gardiner reveals a slightly 
                  modular feel to Manze's structuring. When you hear Karajan's 
                  Brahms, it always flows, with the phrases seamlessly weaving 
                  together. That's an approach that most in the post-h.i.p. 
                  world have maintained, but it requires more rubato in the transitions 
                  than Manze will permit himself. The result is a greater focus 
                  on the moment.
                   
                  Fortunately then, the Helsingborg Symphony Orchestra ensures 
                  that every moment in these recordings is worth focusing on. 
                  The balance is excellent, a result perhaps of Manze going for 
                  a moderately sized string section. Vibrato in the strings is 
                  present but minimal, while the woodwind soloists are permitted 
                  a little more wobble. The constrained tones of the horns and 
                  trombones contribute most to the 19th century atmosphere 
                  of the orchestral sound. The SACD sound is excellent, and the 
                  recording really benefits from the warm but clear acoustic of 
                  the Helsingborg Concert Hall.
                   
                  Something different, then, to add to your Brahms collection. 
                  Manze pursues his aesthetic ideology quite doggedly here, but 
                  never at the expense of the results. He's too much of 
                  a professional to let his scholarship ever stand in the way 
                  of his intuitive musicianship, which must surely have played 
                  just as big a role in the formation of these interpretations. 
                  When you go back to your Karajan, or your Bernstein, or even 
                  your Carlos Kleiber, after hearing this, nothing will seem quite 
                  as inevitable or beyond dispute. Who knows, you might end up 
                  liking those earlier interpretations all the better for hearing 
                  them stand up to a thorough challenging.
                   
                  Gavin Dixon