Και από Gramophone :
Mahler's Resurrection Symphony is well suited to Compact Disc. The wide range of dynamics, particularly the off-stage brass in the finale, needs the spaciousness of the most modern recording techniques. It is a work that rarely fails in performance, building up inexorably to that thrilling final paean, an extraordinary affirmation of Christian faith whatever doubts the Jewish Mahler may have had. Yet, as I wrote when reviewing a previous recording, it is difficult to make the symphony equally moving as a recording—one needs the physical presence of the forces involved and to be present in the hall.
But there are exceptions. Bruno Walter's CBS performance is one, its age notwithstanding, and Zubin Mehta's is another. I had not heard Mehta's recording before and it came as a major surprise to me. He does not come first to mind among Mahler conductors but this is a splendid interpretation, exciting, broadly conceived and fully justifying the accounts one has read about the 'special relationship' said to exist between him and the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra. They sound much happier with him than they are with Maazel's much slower, sometimes plodding tempos (CBS).
The recording sounds to me as fresh and vivid as if it had been made a few weeks ago. It is in Decca's best tradition, with no distortion in the balance, no close-focus on solo instruments and yet with a telling 'presence' that suggests the vibrancy of a public performance. This is apparent from the opening of the first movement, when the cellos' and basses' triple forte—marked wild by Mahler—really bites into the strings and the violins' entry with the second subject is silken in its expressiveness. Mehta is scrupulous throughout the symphony in his rhythmic emphasis on staccato notes and his clear differentiation between f and ff, by no means so common a virtue as it should be.
His tempos, too, strike me as exemplary, never holding back but observing Mahler's nicht eilen, the direction which the great composer-conductor wrote in just those places where he knew that an orchestra and a conductor would want to press on faster. The lighter second and third movements are delightfully characterized, so that the impact of the Judgement Day finale is all the greater, especially after Christa Ludwig's rapt singing of Urlicht. Her soprano partner is Ileana Cotrubas, whose more vulnerable, plaintive timbre provides a near-ideal contrast. As for the Vienna State Opera Chorus, their hushed first entry and their final outburst are alike impressive, and diction (especially of the basses) is superb.
This is a recorded performance to be compared with Slatkin's Telarc, which I rate as highly as any. As a technical achievement it comes close to Sinopoli on DG, a very fine performance but less involving than Mehta's and with less convincing soloists in Brigitte Fassbaender and Rosalind Plowright. On the other hand, the DG recording on Cd also includes the Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen and six of the early songs in the Harold Byrns orchestrations. This is something to be borne in mind when one is considering the expenditure involved. Neither Decca nor DG provides comprehensive indexing, surely something that ought to be done in such a long and complex movement as the finale.'