The Fourth is Sibelius's most difficult symphony. For some, it is his masterpiece. When the symphony was premiered on 3 April 1911 in Helsinki, one critic compared it to Barkbröd - tree bark eaten by the Finns in times of famine! It is fittingly a Finn, conductor Santtu-Matias Rouvali, who explores this symphony that lays bare our emotions. With his Göteborg Symphony Orchestra, he continues his cycle of the complete Sibelius symphonies, with the addition of the famous Valse Triste and the symphonic poem inspired by Swedish folklore called The Wood Nymph.

All of Rachmaninov’s music - from his earliest student compositions to his final masterpieces – has been collected together for the first time on 32 CDs, in what is definitively the most complete and comprehensive edition of Rachmaninov’s works ever released.

The Fourth is Sibelius's most difficult symphony. For some, it is his masterpiece. When the symphony was premiered on 3 April 1911 in Helsinki, one critic compared it to Barkbröd - tree bark eaten by the Finns in times of famine! It is fittingly a Finn, conductor Santtu-Matias Rouvali, who explores this symphony that lays bare our emotions. With his Göteborg Symphony Orchestra, he continues his cycle of the complete Sibelius symphonies, with the addition of the famous Valse Triste and the symphonic poem inspired by Swedish folklore called The Wood Nymph.

Maximilian Steinberg studied at the St Petersburg Conservatory from 1901 – simultaneously with studying natural sciences at the city’s university. At the conservatory, where he was a contemporary of Stravinsky, initially a friend, Steinberg’s teachers included Glazunov – the dedicatee of his First Symphony – and Rimsky-Korsakov. The latter took a shine to Steinberg, recognising him as a significant talent and took opportunities to further his career, to the chagrin of Stravinsky. In due course, Steinberg married Rimsky’s daughter. He remained in St Petersburg (later Leningrad) for the rest of his life, becoming director of the conservatory in 1934. Among his pupils at the conservatory was Shostakovich.

Mats Lidström is that rare thing, an original musician. The sheer mercurial energy which drives his performances can be both engaging and disturbing, but there is always a searching intelligence at work. The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra lost much when its compelling, if unpredictable, lead cellist departed. These two concertos show him at his persuasive best, bringing lesser known works to life. Kabalevsky’s 1964 Concerto stretches and yawns with slow pizzicato before springing into urgent life. Sub-Shostakovich in its motifs and tonality, it is nevertheless well-constructed and uses the saxophone to great effect. In both Allegro movements Lidström achieves a lightning speed and attack and, though Raphael Wallfisch’s recording on Nimbus has a more solid beauty of tone, the Swede’s nervous anticipation makes up for the thinner sound of his Grancino cello. Khachaturian’s 1946 Concerto would make a wonderful soundtrack to a cinematic faux-Oriental extravaganza, with its twisting major and minor intervals, and almost sleazy chromaticism. Lidström really knows how to swing, and makes the most of the memorable melodies.

Passionate about the music of his own country, Peter Friis Johansson has commissioned new works as well as worked toward the unearthing of overlooked masterpieces of Swedish music. His latest disc presents the fruits of these efforts: one older, unfinished work with a completion by Johansson himself, the two others commissions made on his initiative. All three concertos were premièred between 2017 and 2020.

Swedish bassist/cellist Lars Danielsson is a master improviser, who completely engages listeners by taking them on journeys of both pleasure and wonder, with themes which are always expressive and song-like. He is far too classy and refined a musician to indulge in superficial virtuosic display. Danielsson's well-honed, naturally lyrical improvisational lines remain at the service of the flow of the music, something particularly noticeable when he steps forward and takes on the role of soloist. These core traits are also there in his extensive and much-praised work as arranger, composer and bandleader.

Neeme Järvi, with his children now as rivals, remains a busy star on the international conducting scene. Born in the Estonian capital of Tallinn, on June 7,1937, and brought up within the USSR's system for developing musical talent, Järvi studied percussion and conducting at the Tallinn Music School. He made his debut as a conductor at age 18. From 1955 to 1960 he pursued further studies at the Leningrad Conservatory, where his principal teachers were Nikolaï Rabinovich and Yevgeny Mravinsky.

After the phenomenal critical success of the first two volumes of the complete Sibelius symphonies (Gramophone Editor’s Choice, Preis der deutschen Schallplattenkritik, Diapason d’Or, FFFF Télérama etc. ), the Finnish conductor Santtu-Matias Rouvali and the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra introduce us to the ‘green’ side of Sibelius who, suffering from health problems and financial worries, moved to the shores of Lake Tuusula just before writing his Third Symphony. His output was powerfully inspired by nature. In April 1915, when the world was in chaos, he wrote in his diary of the appearance of sixteen swans over the lake and noted down their cry, which inspired the great horn theme of the Fifth Symphony’s finale.

Born into a working-class family, Anders Eliasson’s earliest musical experiences originated from within himself: ‘they were my own singing, and tunes I heard on the radio’. At the age of nine he began to play the trumpet, and soon after he became the leader of a jazz band for which he wrote arrangements. Aged 14, he found a local organist to teach him harmony and counterpoint, and at 16 he left his hometown for Stockholm to study privately.

The two Serenades ‘sung’ by the more rapturously Oistrakh-like Kang are sentimental and are recorded with rich immediacy. The Six Humoresques also arrive courtesy of Kang. These are magical bonbons - each weighted and balanced to perfection even though I favour the rawer vintage set glowingly recorded by Rosand and still available on Vox. True Sibelians must not miss these works and Kang and his orchestra do catch these silvery spells and confident little drinking songs - pride and eloquence, seduction and midnight poetry haunt these pages and it's all one especially well.

Born into a working-class family, Anders Eliasson’s earliest musical experiences originated from within himself: ‘they were my own singing, and tunes I heard on the radio’. At the age of nine he began to play the trumpet, and soon after he became the leader of a jazz band for which he wrote arrangements. Aged 14, he found a local organist to teach him harmony and counterpoint, and at 16 he left his hometown for Stockholm to study privately.

Many musicians dream of making a record with a symphony orchestra, but few can afford to make it a reality. Thanks to an extraordinary ability to compose melodies that take root in his listeners’ minds and because he has, for years, patiently performed these compositions on stage to the point where they are practically a part of him, Avishai Cohen was well-positioned to execute such an ambition. As Cohen himself notes, his songs seem predisposed to adaptation at an orchestral scale, and the fact that they retain the same intensity that has provoked such widespread admiration demonstrates the vigor of his music.

Though this set does not include Borodin's lovely string quartets, it contains more than enough to please the most ardent Borodin enthusiast. The symphonies are so well played that no other versions I've heard can compare. One assessment of Borodin's music I once read made reference to his "latent muscularity". The timing and pace of the symphonies does complete justice to that quality. Also very apparent in these works is the orchestral brightness unique to the man's work.