Little if any of Reinecke’s extensive output is likely 
          to be remembered today. He pursued a highly successful career as a piano 
          virtuoso, composer and teacher in Scandinavia and Paris, and at the 
          Cologne and Leipzig Conservatories. He became a much-respected director 
          and chief conductor at the latter. A prolific composer as well as a 
          writer of composer biographies and theoretical essays he was named by 
          the German musicologist Hugo Riemann as "the most extraordinary 
          personality from Leipzig’s world of music", Reinecke was a minor 
          representative of the famous "Leipzig school" of composers 
          that included Mendelssohn, and among his Leipzig students were Grieg, 
          Sullivan, and Weingartner. His works are solidly based on classical 
          forms and, though occasionally innovative, might, even in his own day, 
          have been considered somewhat conventional in style. Though the music 
          is melodious and well-constructed, it is, perhaps, not surprising that 
          it has failed to survive in the status of such contemporaries as Mendelssohn, 
          Schumann and Brahms. 
        
 
        
The six-movement Serenade could fairly be called "light 
          music" (which ought not to suggest that it is uninteresting music) 
          or, maybe less fairly, "teashop music". The alternation of short 
          playful/soulful movements make for easy listening; but, compared with, 
          say, Elgar’s or Eric Coates’ excursions into this genre, the word that 
          comes more readily to mind is "insipid". 
        
 
        
The twelve Tonbilder (tone poems), assembled late in 
          life from earlier compositions, are really little more than a set of 
          "character" pieces, mostly short – a mere two or three 
          minutes – and despite their fancy titles could easily be played 
          (as they are here) as a suite for string orchestra. The Children’s Symphony 
          is, if its opus number is anything to go by, a fairly mature work, and 
          turns out to be a jolly romp full (as is Haydn’s "Toy" Symphony) 
          of cuckoo calls, whistles, tin drums and the like. To be perfectly honest 
          I found it the most engaging work on this disk. 
        
 
        
The Kremlin players enter into the spirit of the thing, 
          but even their indulgent vibrato and persistent portamento do not succeed 
          in making this disc more than a charming curiosity. 
        
 
          Roy D. Brewer