There is nothing to criticize here and plenty to enjoy. As with previous releases in this series, the playing of Florilegium is the last word in graciousness and elegance, and the music itself is unfailingly inventive and charming. I’m thinking in particular of the quietly humorous “Distrait” movement from the Sixth Quartet, with its delicious echo effects at the ends of phrases, or the gorgeous Courante from the B-minor suite. The Fourth Quartet shares the same key, and its “Triste” also represents one of the disc’s highlights. In fact, three of the four works here feature minor keys, the exception being the A major quartet No. 5, with its opening Vivement prelude and two sections marked “Gai” (though one of them is only “un peu”).

Following the delectable String Symphonies Volume 1 comes an equally delectable Volume 2, with one sinfonia by Johann Stamitz (1717-1757) and three by Franz Xaver Richter (1709-1789). Where Volume 1 covered works from 1740-1750, this one covers the period 1750-1755. The musicians play on period instruments with unequalled elegance and warmth. Producers should use this absolutely superb recordings as a reference model. Rarely baroque music has sounded with so much detail and perfect sound quality.

The New Dutch Academy Mannheim Project is an immense project involving original material from dozens of libraries throughout the world, the analysis of manuscripts, the preparation of working scores, the consultation of treatises and other sources; thought about aesthetically schools, flows, changes and in relation to instruments, playing techniques and musical realization; and the combination of all this with performance, learning the Mannheim language, and bringing the music to life. Through this album we are very proud to launch our Mannheim Project, and to set the tone for the resulting series of recordings which will present newly discovered works, many of which will appear here for the first time in recorded form.

If one is searching for an extra-musical heading under which to bracket the con- tent of the Symphonies Nos. 4, 5 & 6 by Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky, one cannot really avoid the word “fate”. Personal fate, to be exact. Thus his Symphony No. 4 (1876-78) was a frank confession straight from the soul, a subtle psychological portrait printed on paper. In a letter to his patroness, Nadezhda von Meck, he talked of “fate, this disastrous power, which prevents our urgent desire for happiness from achieving its objective”. After this, a further 11 years passed before Tchaikovsky attempted to compose another “purely” symphonic work – his Symphony No. 5.