Given Celibidache's proclivity for slow motion, I had my fears 
                  for the Franck Symphony. While I'm fond of the piece, it does 
                  lend itself to thickness and a sort of tortuous harmonic churning. 
                  In fact, the conductor's performance strikes a good balance 
                  between weight and propulsion. 
                    
                  It's true that in the symphony's Lento introduction - 
                  rather, in both its Lento introductions - Celibidache 
                  manages to out-Furtwängler Furtwängler in his evocation 
                  of an inward, concentrated intensity only indicated, rather 
                  than realized, by the older conductor (Decca). Surprisingly, 
                  the main Allegro non troppo goes at a more or less conventional 
                  tempo, with a lively snap to the dotted rhythms in the Toscanini 
                  manner, save that the sonority is full rather than lean. The 
                  development wavers between turbulence and calm reflection, yet 
                  Celibidache makes it seem all of a piece. As always, the conductor 
                  manages to bring out some previously unnoticed or neglected 
                  detail - here, the bassoon octaves at 11:27 - which, I suppose, 
                  compensates for the rushing flute phrase that should happen 
                  at 9:17, but doesn't. 
                    
                  The central Allegretto - the de facto slow movement, 
                  despite the tempo marking -isn't done badly or mannered, 
                  but, despite its buoyant rhythmic ebb and flow, Celibidache 
                  draws nothing special from it. The finale, however, chugs along 
                  nicely, with the second theme not straying too far from the 
                  established pulse. The textures open up, as if letting in light, 
                  as the movement proceeds, and the two climactic restatements, 
                  at 4:05 and 9:25, are jubilant. 
                    
                  The level of attention required to get through Celibidache's 
                  rehearsals, let alone performances, must have taken its toll 
                  on many players' stamina, and ensemble is hardly perfect. Besides 
                  the previously noted smudges in the introduction of the Franck, 
                  numerous uncertain, inaccurate, and just plain sloppy attacks 
                  plague the slow introduction of Romeo. Sometimes these 
                  detract from the effective details: thus, after the rising sonorities 
                  crest in gloriously vibrant chords - the first is at 5:33 - 
                  the phrase that follows brings a few bars of utter chaos. 
                    
                  Oddly, such ensemble problems only crop up in slow music: elsewhere, 
                  Celibidache's propulsive rhythm seems to keep the players alert 
                  and involved. Thus, once Romeo finally gets going, the 
                  "fight scenes" are turbulent, but have an almost balletic spring; 
                  the love theme is plaintive in the woodwinds, full-throated 
                  and expansive when the full orchestra takes it up later on. 
                  
                    
                  The sound quality is a bit grainy, but clear and full enough. 
                  The labels don't mention stereo, but there's some directional 
                  effect - note the big bass crescendos in the Romeo introduction 
                  - and sense of stereo spread. The lack of applause after either 
                  piece suggests that these might be archival broadcasts rather 
                  than actual concert performances. 
                    
                  Stephen Francis Vasta 
                  Stephen Francis Vasta is a New York-based conductor, coach, 
                  and journalist. 
                see also review by Christopher 
                  Howell