These are live recordings emerging here in clean 'Honest John' mono from Audite who are quite justly held in high esteem by the German radio companies’ archive chiefs. The unshowy audio integrity of these tapes is typical of European radio work of the time - analogue hiss well subdued. The sound is not splendid but remains totally enjoyable.

There was an audience present in both cases and while well-groomed they are prone to the occasional, cough, creak and rustle - especially in the Saint-Säens, speaking of which this work is in two solid movements. It has a sturdy majesty and a Beethovenian repose which occasionally descends into decoration. In that sense the Concerto is no different than many other romantic concertos. Casadesus lends substance to the decoration and gravitas to the reflective moments. Decoration tips towards absurdity in the galloping section at 1.55 in the finale which sounds as if it escaped from vaudeville. The galloping figures favoured by this composer work well in the masterly Second Concerto but can seem miscalculated here.

The Tchaikovsky 4 is prime Ormandy territory and he recorded it several times. The one I am familiar with is the version with the Philadelphia on Sony Essential Classics. The italicised tenderness of the first movement is notable. Much care is taken over the most tender of details. Listen to the conductor at 1.35 in I where every hesitant breath and pressing forward is relished. Every detail is engraved by a craftsman. I have yet to hear a Monteux version of 4 but this fascination with detail reminded me of Monteux's way with the Fifth Symphony and the LSO in Vienna in 1960 (Vanguard). That said, the French conductor gives a better feeling for the overall architectonic skeleton of the work.

The brass of the RIAS Symphony Orchestra are sturdy not stolid. Listen to the way they chisel out the tragic fanfaring at 8:10 in the first movement. They major on the iron in the brass rather than the gold. Their tone is stern not plump - sin botox as we might now say.

Ormandy's approach is affectionate but never sloppy - refreshingly honest. In the finale he takes pains over clarity in the way he sculpts those gaunt fanfares. This is nowhere near as impulsively headlong as Mravinsky's Leningrad Phil DG recordings made in London in 1960. On the other hand Ormandy is a wily hand and saves the zest for the whirlwind of the finale’s last four minutes.

Ormandy, Casadesus and Tchaikovsky enthusiasts will need this.

German label Audite has been busy issuing radio recordings that Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau made in his early years on German radio. After a first series featuring works by Schubert, Mahler, Brahms and Schumann , they now move to another line entitled Edition Fischer-Dieskau (ree review of Volume IV- Beethoven & Brahms). These originate from the 1950s near the start of his career.

The present disc features a selection of songs by Hugo Wolf, one of the composers for whom he had a special affinity, He sang and recorded them often throughout his career. With recordings here from three periods, late-1948, mid-1949 and late-1953, this collection gives a panorama of Fischer-Dieskau’s Wolf of the early years.

His voice, in these years, is much more impetuous than in his peak years of the 1960s-1970s. One has a feeling that he’s trying to find the right tone, and he hits it often - such as in another Audite recording of Schubert’s Winterreise in 1952. One also has the feeling that he is learning to sing for the radio as well. In the earliest recordings he seems to hold back a bit, and in the 1953 recordings he occasionally sings too loud, causing minor distortion. Yet these are clear and well-produced, showing an excellent level of attention to the sound by the part of the original radio engineers and by Audite’s team. The 1949 recordings sound a bit drier than the others, with the piano a bit distant and the voice at times too present. This is apparent in the loudest parts of Wer Sich Der Einsamkeit Ergibt. There’s also a little bit of distortion in the loudest sections. Overall, though, the three sessions here sound excellent, given their age.

As for the performances, if you are a fan you will find much to like. These early years show a voice that has not yet found its “center”, that is searching for the right balance. At times, this means that he seems to be testing the waters with tone and intensity, which can often lead to very interesting choices.

All in all, DF-D fans will likely scoop up this and the other discs in the series as soon as possible. Any “new” recording of this golden voice is worth hearing. While occasional lieder fans might not see the need for these discs, and stick with the established recordings of the 1960s and 1970s, completists will find these essential listening capturing Fischer-Dieskau in early-blooming maturity.

German label Audite has been releasing a number of radio recordings that Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau made in his early years on German radio. After a first series of recordings, featuring works by Schubert, Mahler, Brahms and Schubert, they have begun another line entitled ‘Edition Fischer-Dieskau’. All these recordings come from the 1950s, shortly after Fischer-Dieskau’s career began in 1948.

This disc features a selection of songs by Beethoven and Brahms, recorded in 1951 and 1952 with Hertha Klust, one of Fischer-Dieskau’s regular accompanists of the period. While Fischer-Dieskau is best known for his recordings and performances of Schubert, Wolf and Schumann, he also sang most of the German lied repertoire.

As the liner-notes say, he was “one of the first singers to take Beethoven’s lieder truly seriously.” The Beethoven recordings here are intimate and warm, with good quality sound and a decent balance between the voice and piano, though the piano can sound wimpy at times; when the voice is powerful, the piano seems to tinkle away in the background.

He seems to have a special affinity with this music; many of the songs are gentle and lyrical, and contrast with his often turbulent performances of Schubert and Wolf in the same period. These performances are available in other discs from Audite in the same series, the Edition Fischer-Dieskau. One example here of his range is in the Italian grave song In questa tomba oscura, where the lyrical outer sections show a powerful sensitivity, whereas the middle section shows how far he could go with his voice in powerful theatricality. And the miniature cantata An die Hoffnung, based on a “philosophico-religious” poem stands out as a high point here, showing the vast range of emotion that F-D was able to put into his music.

The Brahms songs, all from one session in 1952, feature a better-sounding piano, though the voice, when loud, distorts just a bit. This more tempestuous music shows the young Fischer-Dieskau in his element: brash, unbridled and bold. He lets loose during some of the songs - such as Wie Rafft Ich Mich - as he does in other contemporary recordings of some of the more stormy Schubert songs. He didn’t record a lot of Brahms in his career, so this is a good chance to hear him in repertoire that was not his staple.

All in all, Fischer-Dieskau fans will likely grab this and the other discs in the series as soon as possible. Any “new” recording of this golden voice is worth hearing. While occasional lieder fans might not see the need for these discs, and stick with the more stable recordings of the 1960s and 1970s, completists will find these the essential documents that show him as his voice and style were developing.

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New recordings of this keep coming, and before the 1990s they were very rare.

These two are almost textbook cases. The Japanese woman is very sensitive – too sensitive, I would say – and has a bright and somewhat brittle tone. Her tone is almost standard Japanese, and her ever-so-sensitive readings sound very feminine. The Russian pianist is certainly more masculine but still not insensitive at all. (That would never do for Tchaikovsky.) His tone is much sweeter and gentler, less hard and percussive. He almost floats thru some passages. He does what he wants with the music; there's a lot of give-and-take, loud-and-soft – contrasts are important in his interpretations. So are phrasing and punctuation. Tempos are elastic. He is never mechanical, never routine. He is listening to every note and phrase. Everything has meaning in the whole.

The engineering makes a difference, of course. If Mr Primakov comes across as warm and atmospheric the engineers certainly contributed to the effect. It's very moving. SACD technology doesn't do much for a piano – or at least I can't hear it. When stereo came along I continued to buy piano records in monaural sound, and I still have Philippe Entremont's delightful Tchaikovsky album (monaural). The Audite engineers are not interested in atmosphere or warmth but in Germanic clarity.

I can no longer say whether a new recording eclipses the three or four older ones I have loved so long. With something as good as Primakov's Tchaikovsky I just enjoy it and add it to the others.

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