Having started its journey with the ‘middle period’ Sturm und Drang works, Giovanni Antonini’s ambitious non-chronological project to record all 107 of Haydn’s symphonies in time for the composer’s tercentenary in 2032 is now taking in more of the later works where – for many listeners – the chief glories lie. As ever, however, Antonini brings together works from different periods, more or less linked by a common thread. Here – not for the first time in the series – there’s a regal link. The ‘title’ work is Symphony no.85 in B flat major (1785/86), the fourth of the six ‘Paris’ Symphonies which Haydn composed to a commission from Paris’s Masonic Loge Olympique, and which was said to be a particular favourite of Louis XVI’s consort, Marie Antoinette.

Dating from some five years earlier, Symphony no.62 in D major has been linked with a celebration of the name day of Marie Antoinette’s mother, the Empress Maria Theresa, at the new theatre in the grounds of Eszterháza Palace. The final work on the disc is the Symphony no.50 in C major, which has its origins in 1772/73 in a work for Eszterháza’s newly built marionette theatre and a visit by Maria Theresa herself. A few years later Haydn expanded the two-movement overture to the theatrical prelude Der Götterrath into the present four-movement symphony. As with many other works in the Haydn2032 series, it’s a reminder of Haydn’s deep involvement with theatrical performances during his years at Eszterháza.

Now at volume 15, this latest release in Antonini’s cycle finds him at the helm of the excellent period-instrument forces of Kammerorchester Basel (who are sharing the overall load with Antonini’s own Il Giardino Armonico). The recording was made in October 2021 in Basel’s Musik- und Kulturzentrum Don Bosco, which has a well-focused sound with plenty of fine definition but also abundant warmth. The way the final D major of no.62’s outer movements continue to resound after the orchestra has stopped is appropriately majestic.

Best-known of the three works, of course, is ‘La Reine’ itself. Instead of attempting to emulate the size of the Parisian orchestra for which it was written, Antonini has a string force of 6.5.4.3.2. There’s no lack of force where needed – in the minor-key interjections of the first movement, for instance – but the benefits of hearing the wind instruments so clearly are many. The staccato dotted figuration of the Symphony’s slow introduction is nicely clipped, and the transition to the Vivace creeps in subtly, while the strings’ upward scales in the tutti passages have plenty of energetic direction to them, and the solo oboe theme has a wonderfully sour plangency. The second movement Romance is taken as a true Allegretto, with the susurrations of the flute variation a special delight.

There’s a hint of hastiness in the Menuet which adds to the sense of excitement (rather this than too staid), and the clatter of keys in the Trio passages for solo bassoon and violins provides another instance of atmospheric detail. The Presto finale is a joy, tripping along, brilliantly shaped, with pauses neither undersold nor overmilked. Antonini brings out all the theatrical flair of Haydn’s genius.

Symphony no.62 is remarkable on two counts in particular: the dreamy Allegretto slow movement has the movement of a barcarolle, but studiously avoids a fully-developed theme to go with the semi-developed accompaniments. The Finale, meanwhile, seems to start in media res before the first tutti bursts into life. It’s a vivid illustration of just how innovative Haydn’s rural isolation led him to be. Although cast in D major, this work has no trumpets or drums, just horns and woodwind plus strings, its majesty coupled with a wonderfully carefree demeanour. The still earlier no.50 has real theatrical panache, and Antonini includes the trumpet parts that were a late addition to the score. There’s a splendidly majestic slow introduction before the Allegro di molto gets underway. A relaxed Andante moderato slow movement gives way to a punchy Menuet. The Finale is particularly engaging: the way in which the long successions of quaver sequences are shaped into meaningful phrases is an object lesson in how to play this music stylishly without feeling micro-managed.

The booklet is enlivened (as is customary in this series) with photos from the Magnum agency, in this case by Carl de Keyzer and with a generally regal theme. Well up to the standards of the series as a whole, this is another tremendously enjoyable addition to this landmark series.