Beethoven’s monumental contribution to Western classical music is celebrated here in this definitive collection marking the 250th anniversary of the composer’s birth. Surveying the totality of his career and achievement, the Complete Edition spans orchestral, concerto, keyboard, chamber, music for the stage, choral and vocal works, encompassing his most familiar and iconic masterpieces, alongside rarities and recently reconstructed fragments and sketches in world premiere recordings. The roster of artists and ensembles includes some of Beethoven’s greatest contemporary exponents, in performances that have won critical acclaim worldwide.

Spohr wrote 15 violin concertos, the first completed in 1803 and the last in 1844. The best known of these is probably No. 8, which incorporates an operatic element. Other concertos include two double violin concertos and four concertos for clarinet. The latter are an important and popular part of solo clarinet repertoire and were written for the clarinettist Johann Simon Hermstedt.

Reinhold Glière (1875-1956) retains a toehold in the repertoire through his remarkable third symphony (and perhaps the effective and tuneful ballet the Red Poppy). His music is generally colorful, evocative, well-written and not without depth. Stylistically, the Russian Silver Age looms large - this is music in the tradition of Rimsky-Korsakov and Glazunov with few elements of anything more modern - but for the most part the most interesting music stems from rather early in the career, with his later more socialist-realist works being undeniable often rather bland.

In 1875, The Demon had the greatest success of any of Rubinstein operas, both in St. Petersburg and Moscow. Other compositions included the E flat Piano Concerto, Fantasia for Two Pianos, and the opera Nero". After a concert tour of England, he was made a Hereditary Nobleman by the Tsar, and in 1883 he was awarded the Cross of St. Vladimir for his contribution to musical education in Russia. He also gained a new student named Alexander Glazunov, whose talent at the piano greatly impressed him.

Anton Rubinstein was a towering figure of Russian musical life, and one of the 19th century’s most charismatic musical figures. Rivalled at the keyboard only by Liszt, he was near the last in line of pianist-composers that reached a climax with Liszt, Busoni, and Rachmaninov. Like them Rubinstein’s reputation as a composer in his day was more controversial than his reputation as a performer, but unlike them, his vast compositional output, much of it containing music of beauty and originality, still remains relatively unexplored territory. Rubinstein wrote his eight works for piano and orchestra over the last 44 years of his life, with the five concertos dating from 1850–1874.

If, as Joseph Banowetz claims in his lively and informed notes, Rubinstein was ''the last in a line of pianist-composers that climaxed with Liszt, Busoni and Rachmaninov'', it is surely necessary to add that he was hardly a composer in the same league. And while I am more than grateful to have two such rarely heard concertos on record, powerfully and persuasively performed, it is difficult to warm to their often facile and derivative quality. Rubinstein may have been an anarchic and elemental virtuoso but he could be a sadly conventional composer. Clearly, he knew the finale of Beethoven's E flat Piano Sonata, Op. 31 No. 3, all too well, and in the First Concerto its propulsive tarantella combines uneasily with a Mendelssohnian mix of earnestness and sugar-sweet facility.

The Fourth is probably the best of Rubinstein’s Symphonies. Written in 1874 it’s a deeply uneven and ultimately unconvincing work but contains enough perplexing turbulence to elevate it far beyond the merely decorative, beyond the post Mendelssohnian symphonic statement. If it never reaches the heights of a genuine Romantic crisis symphony it contains intriguing material sufficient to warrant more than a second hearing and this Naxos issue, first issued on Marco Polo 8.223319 in 1991, provides just such an opportunity.

…but an interesting contrast is the other large-scale effort in the list—Rubinstein’s 2nd symphony (‘Ocean’). It’s significantly longer than ‘A Sea Symphony,’ but manages to avoid any feeling of excess. It moves purposefully, it isn’t carrying the baggage of verse, and it’s divided into seven individual movements, none of which are too big to be easily comprehended. Tuneful, dramatic, accessible, a delight from the first note to the last, it’s filled with musical devices which would be commandeered by film composers decades hence and I think Rubinstein deserves credit for a form of originality that scarcely anyone in his own day could have even recognized.