The end-product, as performed by Zinman and his Zürich ensemble, sounds very much like something which started with Gardiner's evangelism on authentic performance (who, it should be pointed out, also had Del Mar's assistance in the preparation of his performing scores) but taken a step further. Indeed, in remaining faithful to authentic Beethovenian tempi, Zinman sets new speed records across all the symphonies when taken against the cycles by Goodman, Gardiner and Hogwood, with the sole exception of Gardiner's Third, which Zinman exceeds by only forty seconds.

The begging question is, naturally, whether following Beethoven's own metronome markings results in haste making waste. The openings of the first two symphonies are taken at pace, without indulgence or protraction. The result is that the duo of notes at the starting of the First is imparted a sense of hurriedness, while the contrast from the slow intro moving up the gears into the faster exposition of the Second's opening movement is less accentuated than it otherwise should have been.

Indeed, at these speeds, some might consider Zinman's approach to the juvenilia of Beethoven's great symphonic canon almost reckless. However, the outer movements are rhythmically contagious and the slow movements are not unduly dragged out. Indeed, even with the Bärenreiter Urtext and its differences, Zinman does not indulge in eccentricities to the extent other conductors have done, although the last movement of the Second is unbelievably hectic. Otherwise, the Tonhalle Orchestra swings the music off with great panache. It certainly does justice to Gardiner's thesis that Beethoven's music should sound like it's being played by the seat-of-your-pants.

However, and this is asked with some caution, if a side-effect of the new Urtext is to urge hectic tempi on conductors, one can see that it will either take some time for current audiences to get used to these speeds, or else, after a brief period of novelty, never at all. As George Grove has asked in his treatise Beethoven and His Nine Symphonies (Dover, 1962),

"Why must we take music at so much faster a pace than it could have been played at in the time of the composer? The whole world moved more slowly then than it does now, even so soon after the impulse of the French Revolution."

The digital sound of the Zürich Tonhalle is pleasingly transparent. At some points there is an aggressive harshness in the brasses; but the strings are immaculate and the woodwinds stylish. Adding to this the occasional "what was that?" changes in the music which will make listeners already familiar with the standard Breitkopf editions metaphorically sit up, this offering of the two early symphonies will definitely pique the curiosity of the musically adventurous. On its own, and at super-budget price, it is surely well worth exploring.

In contrast, the scherzo begins with a sense of urgency but this only serves to make the trio appear rather brutal. The final movement makes amends for this to some degree: it has its moments (listen out for that solo violin) of charm and luster, albeit unfolding in a fairly mild-mannered fashion. The woodwinds are particularly outstanding. However, the coda, coming as it does out of nowhere with a devastating orchestral blast, builds up too abruptly to its climax. In the last instance, this reading cannot be considered as "heroic" at all in its intensity of expression, even if the performance is competent and even (if only) warmly persuasive.

Zinman is sympathetic to the music, that much is evident, but the impression which one gets is a mechanical joining-of-dots to complete the picture. Revised Urtext or not, there is much more that can be made from this music, and this performance, per aspera ad astra, has to be approached with some reservation.

But this is not a titanic struggle as much as cantatis qua cantatis (i.e. music as it is for its own sake) and a dramatic rendition it is at that, too. It is not very often we find the oboe improvisation in the first movement as extravagant as in this version. The playing in the second movement is as natty as a sharply-dressed suit. The third movement asks a searching (albeit fast-tempoed) question in the minor mode, which is majestically answered in the ossature of the fourth. It would not be amiss to say that this performance is the jewel in the crown of this entire cycle.

Zinman begins this genial work not so much as a gentle stroll in the country as a drive-by in a motorcar, such is the tempo he adopts. The scene by the brook is far more idyllic, with woodwind bird-calls chirping sweetly. He also playfully captures the al fresco setting of the merry folk dancing. There is a terrific build-up to the storm, but the haste with which the cloudburst erupts and passes over robs it of anything which the peasant has anything to be thankful about in the final movement. Nonetheless, the Tonhalle Orchestra do render thanksgivings with the correct dollop of mot juste, and overall this is not an unsatisfying reading at all. At super-budget price, this disc (Fifth and Sixth) is also worth collecting individually if one is not going for the entire volume.

Certainly, this is the sort of singular approach that one would expect, and get, from Zinman in drawing the deux ex machina from the notes. The last movement is another record-breaker (he takes more than half a minute off the next lowest time) but by now, this should come as no great surprise. Again, this would be recommendable for its novelty value as an Urtext premiere, but for the same reason, not as a front-runner in its field.