Souvenirs of the Vienna Phil New Year’s Concert don’t 
          come much more consistently enjoyable than this. Collating performances 
          at the 1996 and 1999 Concerts RCA Victor have filleted the very best 
          of the two CDs that originally appeared on 09026 68421-2 and 74321 61687-2. 
          The resultant disc appears in the company’s new reissue livery of colour 
          photograph and lower case type. Preconceptions of a jutting and scowling 
          Maazel have long since evaporated, at least in this congenial company, 
          and he brings great delicacy and refinement to the repertoire. Seldom 
          has the Kaiser-waltz sounded so delightfully nuanced, so carefully 
          clarified and with Ein Herz, Ein Sinn his teasing little gestures 
          are pleasurably idiomatic (it is a polka-mazurka after all). The Polka 
          Française Bitte Schön has a delicious curve to it 
          and takes on fresh life whilst Tales from the Vienna Woods opens 
          in verdant and luxurious delicacy, the zither making its presence felt 
          with stealth and charm. This is the kind of performance with which Maazel 
          stamped his authority over the proceedings. The orchestral players as 
          ever enjoy themselves - the trombones are splendid in Spleen, 
          another Polka-Mazurka and collectively they give real rhythmic lift 
          to the celebratory favourite, the Tritsch-Tratsch polka. Maazel 
          picks up his violin for a piece of Paganini worship, the Walzer à 
          la Paganini (arranged I think by Michael Rot). 
        
 
        
I suppose it’s a shame that some of the other rarities 
          that are seldom heard don’t appear alongside the good old good ones 
          – so no room for the Keystone Cops paraphernalia of Banditen-Galopp 
          (which was played in 1999) or something like Lagunen-Walzer or 
          Künstlerleben amongst many others. Still what remains is 
          as ever enormously enjoyable and graced by lashings of sheer charm. 
        
 
        
Jonathan Woolf