In a scene where the recordings of young sopranos tend toward an extreme sameness, Austria's Anna Prohaska would deserve kudos simply for the ambition of this release of soldiers' songs. The idea, especially for a female singer, is original, and the music draws on a great variety of sources, from Scottish song to Wolfgang Rihm. Better still is the execution, which shows Prohaska's extreme versatility.

Anyone who thinks that period-instrument performance means austerity and coolness should listen to this disc. Here's playing full of expressive warmth and vigour. The opening of Op 77 No 1 is done duly gracefully, but with a sturdy underlying rhythm and the Scherzo is crisp and alive. Then the first movement of the F major work is beautifully done, with many sensitive details; and the lovely second movement is ideally leisurely, so that the players have ample room for manoeuvre and the leader makes much of his opportunities for delicate playing in the filigree-like high music. The players show a real grasp of structure and illuminate the key moments with a touch more deliberation or a little additional weight of tone. These performances, clearly recorded, are competitive not merely within the protected world of 'early music' but in the bigger, 'real' world too!

In 2004, Jean-Guihen Queyras and the Freiburger Barockorchester offered us a prodigious interpretation of Haydn’s two cello concertos, coupled with a rare concerto by Georg Matthias Monn, a pioneer of the genre. A version now recognized as a landmark in the discography.

Haydn2032, the ambitious project of recording the complete symphonies of Haydn, has been placed from the start under the artistic direction of Giovanni Antonini, with two ensembles, Il Giardino Armonico, which made the first four volumes, and the Kammerochester Basel, to which this fifth volume and the next two are assigned. Another characteristic of the edition is that each time Haydn is set in perspective with another composer; here it is Joseph Martin Kraus (1756-92): ‘Kraus was the first man of genius that I met. Why did he have to die? It is an irreparable loss for our art. The Symphony in C minor he wrote in Vienna specially for me is a work which will be considered a masterpiece in every century’, said Haydn in 1797.

For this second volume in the Haydn 2032 project, the complete recording of his symphonies, Giovanni Antonini has chosen to put forward the Symphony Der Philosoph. He associates with it a symphony by Wilhelm Friedemann Bach, eldest son of the Kantor of Leipzig, who is generally considered the most gifted of his sons. Different reasons brought these two great composers the originality and sometimes eccentricity that characterize their works, one suffering from the fame of his father, the other from his own genius. Whereas Haydn’s symphonies differentiate themselves by form, orchestration and keys, W. F. Bach’s begins in the style of a Baroque overture, gradually turning into a tempestuous piece and perhaps already reflecting the transition from a ‘Golden Age’ to the more tormented world that will follow the Age of Enlightenment.

This delightful "dramma eroicomico" ("heroic-comic drama"–-a made-up phrase brimming with irony) tells the story of the noble knight Orlando, who goes mad being torn between duty and love, his love, Angelica, who actually wants Medoro, and Alcina, an evil sorceress out to get Orlando, and turns it into a type of farce, with great results. There is some lovely music, mostly for Angelica and Medoro, but most of it is fun and light, with characters whistling, trying to impress people with how well they sing, etc. The scoring wittily underlines their foibles.

The history of the Russian chamber ensemble of the middle of the 20th century, in all possibility, did not know a more intricate yet remarkable brilliant group of musicians than the celebrated trio of Emil Gilels. Leonid Kogan and Mstislav Rostropovich. All to different in their essence were these three artistic individualities – these three virtuosos, spoilt children of fortune, who were brought together at various stages of disclosure of their outstanding talents. At that, there was not a great difference between their respective ages – Gilels was born in 1916, Kogan was born in 1924 and Rostropovich was born in 1927. Nonetheless, whereas Gilels was already able to reconsider and revise in many ways his principles of work, departing further and further from a pure demonstration of capabilities of his breathtaking technique, Rostropovich and Kogan were still passing through their lengthy period of thrill over their virtuosic powers, affecting their audiences in a straightforward manner.

These are the only concertos that Haydn wrote for himself to play: by his own admission ‘no great wizard’ on any instrument, nonetheless these agreeably tuneful early works show how Haydn’s nascent style was gaining shape and symphonic aspiration beyond the simple charm of Mozart’s superficially similar Church sonatas.

Neben dem überaus erfolgreichen Singspiel Doktor und Apotheker haben es gerade noch Dittersdorfs originelles Kontrabasskonzert, mit Abstrichen wohl auch seine Sinfonien nach Ovids Metamorphosen geschafft, sich im Bewusstsein des Klassikpublikums zu halten. So dürften die dem klassischen Konzerttypus folgenden Klavierkonzerte A-Dur (1779) und B-Dur (1773) des gebürtigen Wieners und hoch geschätzten Violinvirtuosen und Opernkomponisten Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf (1739-1799) nur einem kleinen Kreis von Insidern bekannt sein, wenngleich das A-Dur-Konzert in der Bearbeitung als Harfenkonzert vermutlich bekannter ist.

It was in 1774 that Joseph Haydn had his first set of solo keyboard sonatas published and that Mozart first tackled the genre. The five sonatas presented here all date from 1773-1783, a decade that saw the fortepiano swiftly become the preferred medium for a new style of keyboard writing, to the detriment of the harpsichord. All that remained was to find the instrument to speak this new language. The late Eighteenth Century German piano on which Jérôme Hantaï performs offers us a chance to hear a unique, expressive, cantabile voice.

This was to be the end of the line for Italian word-setting by Viennese composers: once the confident sentiments that belonged to the poet Metastasio's opera seria felt the chill and threatening wind of Enlightenment and Revolution, their time was up. Even we, for the most part, prefer to remember the German-speaking Beethoven, Schubert and Haydn. So it is good to be reminded of their responses to the Italian muse (usually as part of their craft-learning student work) in this particularly well-cast recital. Central Europe, in the person of Andras Schiff meets Italy, in Cecilia Bartoli, to delightful, often revelatory effect.

Haydn’s late masterpiece, The Creation/Die Schöpfung has always existed in two versions, one in English and one in German. Loosely based on Milton’s Paradise Lost version of the creation story, the libretto had actually been offered to Handel, who never got around to setting it. Johann Salomon, the impresario, passed it to Haydn in 1794. Haydn was interested but apparently did not feel confident enough in his English to set the work in its original format.

Partisans of the one-voice-per-part approach don't like to talk about it, but many early performances of Haydn's oratorios, and of the Handel performances in England that inspired him, included hundreds of musicians. They could be performed by smaller groups, but clearly when Haydn wanted all cylinders firing, this is what he had in mind. Historical performances that observe this precedent for The Creation exist, but this seems to be the first such performance of Haydn's second oratorio, The Seasons.

The crowning glory of this collection rests in Frans Brüggen’s marvelous set of the 12 “London” Symphonies. These, along with some of the lesser-known late works, such as Symphonies Nos. 86 and 90 (with its thrilling horn writing), alone justify purchase of this inexpensive 13-disc collection–but really it’s all pretty fine. One of the more anachronistic aspects of the “authentic-instrument” movement has been that works written to be performed without conductor at all (or in collaboration between concertmaster and players) receive the loving ministrations of “specialists” such as Brüggen (and Harnoncourt, for example) whose inclinations in terms of tempo manipulation and expressive phrasing could make a Stokowski blush. And so we find a finale of Symphony No. 88 that’s even slower than Karl Böhm’s, and when you come right down to it, it’s none the worse for the experience: it makes up in charm what it lacks in sheer energy.