This two-CD collection offers a strong, masterfully performed selection of Vaughan Williams' shorter orchestral works. All the best-known pieces are here–the Tallis Fantasia, the Fantasia on Greensleeves, The Lark Ascending, Dives and Lazarus–as well as lesser-known but equally beautiful works such as the Norfolk Rhapsody No. 1, the Concerto Grosso and the Oboe Concerto. Disc One is devoted to performances by Sir Neville Marriner and the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields; on Disc Two, Barry Wordsworth and the New Queen's Hall Orchestra take over, except for one selection–the fiercely dramatic Partita for Double String Orchestra–performed by Sir Adrian Boult and the London Philharmonic. I did not think there could be a more beautiful performance of The Lark Ascending than the one by Boult and Hugh Bean, but the recording here by Marriner and Iona Brown is at very least its equal. For anyone who loves the music of Vaughan Williams, or for anyone who wants to get acquainted with this great and underrated composer, this double-CD set is a must.

This formidable release features Inbal Segev performing Elgars emotive Cello Concerto coupled with DANCE, an inspiring new work by Grammy-nominated English composer Anna Clyne that was commissioned by Inbal. On this powerful recording, Marin Alsop conducts the London Philharmonic Orchestra. Marin introduced Inbal to Anna, sparking a special synergy between the three women. While Anna was composing DANCE, a five-movement concerto inspired by the 13th-century Persian poet Rumi, further connections ensued.

The EMI Classics recordings of Cécile Ousset (b. 1936), spanning the years between 1982 and 1991, would mark her third and most prestigious recording collaboration, launching her, at age forty-six, into the international limelight. Indeed, recognition did not come easily to this grand dame of the piano, who, at the age of fourteen, obtained her prize at the Paris Conservatoire under the tutelage of Marcel Ciampi and began the gruelling rounds at major competitions shortly after: Geneva, Long-Thibaud, Queen Elisabeth and Busoni, as well as the inaugural edition of the Van Cliburn. As a young female pianist, doors remained firmly shut, even with the support of the great Arthur Rubinstein, who personally invested in Ousset’s early career after witnessing her performance at the Long-Thibaud competition.

Shostakovich’s energetic piano concertos feature striking and attractive themes, with sudden changes of mood between the burlesque and haunting, perfectly captured in these live recordings with pianist Martin Helmchen and the London Philharmonic Orchestra’s Principal Conductor Vladimir Jurowski. The Piano Quintet displays perhaps an even greater range of styles within a work of unusual purity written under the looming shadow of war.

Teeming with detail and infectious energy, these live recordings make superb cases for two works from the mid-1950s which had rocky starts in life: the Piano Concerto (with Steven Osborne on clear-headed form) and Symphony No. 2.

Completed in 1877, Brahms’s remarkable and impressive Symphony No. 1 was the result of a fourteen-year gestation period and established the composer as the leading German symphonist of his generation. This inaugural issue in a major new cycle on Naxos brings together the internationally acclaimed London Philharmonic Orchestra and conductor Marin Alsop, fêted by The Guardian as “…well on her way to becoming one of the best Brahms interpreters”.

In 1956, Bernard Haitink conducted the Concertgebouworkest for the first time and together they would play more than 1,500 concerts across the globe. Besides his modesty, his humanity, his musical taste, and his honesty to the music, three words come to mind when one thinks of Haitink and his orchestra: Sound, Trust and Magic. Jörgen van Rijen, Principal trombone of the Concertgebouworkest, said at a memorial concert in February this year, “Every time with him [Haitink] the orchestra sounded warmer, deeper and richer, from the first moment he started to rehearse. How he did that is difficult to tell … he always gave us musicians the feeling he trusted you, that he was there to help, not to interfere.”

Solti’s recording of Elgar 1 blew across the face of British music in the early Seventies like a blast of fresh air. Immersing himself in Elgar’s own brisk interpretations, Solti forced us to reassess the provincial tradition of Boult and Barbirolli. Hearing it again now, one is struck, if anything, by the lavish attention to detail and by a sense of loving devotion to the music; the slow movement is positively reverential. More recent readings (Slatkin, Davis, etc) show how things have developed, and Hurst’s Naxos account is a strong budget contender. But Solti’s version is deeply felt and gloriously played.