The passage of time hasn't dimmed the powerful impact of this outstanding performance. Haitink projects all the drama and emotional ambiguity without sacrificing symphonic cogency.

With one single reservation Haitink's account of Babiy Yar is superb. The reservation is that Marius Rintzler, although he has all the necessary blackness and gravity and is in amply sonforous voice, responds to the anger and the irony and the flaming denunciations of Yevtushenko's text with scarcely a trace of the histrionic fervour they cry out for. The excellent chorus, though, is very expressive and it makes up for a lot, as does the powerful and sustained drama of Haitink's direction.

Despite the fact that there are multiple recordings of Shostakovich's deeply moving Symphony No. 14, this rather old but remastered recording is unique in the quality of performance: Bernard Haitink conducts his Concertgebouw Orchestra and elected to use non-Slavic singers Julia Varady and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau who in turn sing the poems in their original languages rather than the Russian translations used in the original premiere. The effect is staggeringly beautiful and if one must choose a single recording of this symphony, this would be the one that captures the essence of Shostakovich's vision.

This is the Schumann's Bicentennial year. There are many symphonic cycles to celebrate that, but very seldom we can find a truly great one along the whole of the 4 symphonies. Haitink's is one of these. Those are brilliant, solid and thrilling performances that show the mastery of maestro Haitink. Concertgebouw orchestra plays heavenly and sound by Philips is, one more time, a matter of admiration. Among cycles in modern and digital sound, this is one of the best choices.

Believed to have been composed between August 1775 and January 1777, the Concerto In E Flat Major for two pianos technically counts as being the tenth of Mozart's twenty-seven concertos, that huge and prodigious body that would set the standards for all piano concertos from Mozart's time forward. Although it is not performed with the same frequency as his later works (especially the final eight concertos, 20-27), this "Double" piano concerto, believed to have been composed by Mozart for performance by him and his sister Maria Anna ("Nannerl"), is nevertheless a fascinating experiment of Mozart's, one that requires a pair of solid keyboard virtuosos to do (and for the composer's Seventh piano concerto, you needed three soloists).

Claudio Arrau, one of the greatest piano masters of the s. XX, leaves us astonished with this intense and majestic version, showing his immense knowledge of German Romanticism of which he was an excellent exponent. Excellent temps and wonderful nuances. Here Bernard Haitink shows us why he became a benchmark in conducting by one of the best ensembles on the planet: the Amsterdam Concertgebouw Orchestra.

Claudio Arrau, one of the greatest piano masters of the s. XX, leaves us astonished with this intense and majestic version, showing his immense knowledge of German Romanticism of which he was an excellent exponent. Excellent temps and wonderful nuances. Here Bernard Haitink shows us why he became a benchmark in conducting by one of the best ensembles on the planet: the Amsterdam Concertgebouw Orchestra.

Though there are many recordings of the popular Symphony No. 7: 'Leningrad' (for good reason, as this is one of the finest of Shostakovich's glowing works), the catalogue listing for recordings of the Symphony No. 12: The Year 1917 is less lengthy. This would probably come as no surprise to Shostakovich himself, as this particular work represented inner conflicts in his own view of his homeland political milieu, views more nebulous on the surface but suggested in the context.

In this version, Ashenazy's approach is conservative. He builds his climaxes with a measured understanding of what one could call the "architectural grandeur" of the piece. Bernard Haitink and the Concertgebouw provide great accompaniment to Ashenazy's playing throughout, yet the combined energies of orchestra and soloist come through in an absolutely thrilling finale.

Vladimir Ashkenazy’s way with the Rachmaninov Second Piano Concerto noticeably mellowed in the years between his blistering 1963 premiere recording on Decca with Kirill Kondrashin and this 1986 reading. That’s not to say it became mushy or dull, but it is certainly heavier, characterized by a prevailing darkness that calls to mind Stravinsky’s description of Rachmaninov as a “six-foot scowl.” Ashkenazy’s rich tone and emphatic phrasing assures an overall somber cast, while Bernard Haitink draws similarly-countenanced playing from the Concertgebouw Orchestra–the low strings especially. However, there is a respite from the gloom in the quite touching rendition of the lyrical slow movement.

Originally released in 1966, Bernard Haitink's vivid recording of Gustav Mahler's Symphony No. 3 in D minor is coupled here with a 1973 performance of Das klagende Lied; since these are among the least performed and least familiar works in Mahler's catalog, the pairing is mutually beneficial to each, and listeners who have neither in their collections would do well to consider snapping up this affordable set. Perhaps the only flaw should be mentioned up front: though virtually no tape hiss is audible, there is a bit of an acoustic "vacuum" around the sound of the musicians, suggesting that the analog masters have been cleaned up a bit too efficiently and some resonance seems lost.

Ashkenazy and Previn are broadly agreed on choice of tempos throughout the work. At the very opening, after the magical silvery flutes, Ashkenazy is a shade more volatile and he certainly echoes the words "sparkle and dash" in the evocation of the "sledges dashing in a row, their bells jingling". Here his tenor soloist, Ryszard Karczykowski, brings an added degree of temperament to the singing. In the slow movement too, Natalia Troitskaya's contribution has all the freshness of Armstrong, yet there is a natural slavonic feeling too—the singing opens up that bit more, yet without a hint of crudeness.

Conductor Wilhelm Furtwangler already enjoyed a worldwide legendary standing during his lifetime - he was considered the German conductor and performances were greeted with rapturous applause. Today, more than 50 years after his death, Wilhelm Furtwangler is still an icon and his work has become an integral part ofthe music scene.

The Second Concerto is more unitary in manner. There are still occasional moments of hard tone from Ashkenazy, but they are less noticeable here. It’s a nice performance if you like a pretty broad first movement, an energetic but controlled Scherzo, a mellow Andante and a Finale which aims more at grace and good humour than anything climatic. The recording is lively with a touch of glare at times.

Johannes Brahms was not a composer who showed much confidence early on in his career, at least as far as large-scale orchestral forms were concerned. Take for instance what we know to be his Piano Concerto No. 1, which premiered in 1859. This work began as a sonata for two pianos, and then Brahms considered developing it into a symphony. But the shadow of Beethoven's nine essays in the symphonic form dogged Brahms so much that his First Symphony didn't appear for almost two decades. It finally emerged into this turbulent and elongated D Minor concerto and, despite receiving a fairly frigid reception at its premiere, it is a work that has come to be seen as Brahms' first true large-scale orchestral masterpiece.