incandescent atmosphere and magisterial playing

These are marvellous performances: vibrant, clear, characterful and effortlessly well played.
The recordings, too, still seem new-minted, even the Ninth, the first of the symphonies to be recorded. The Berliners' art is the art that disguises art. Böhm never feels the need to do anything clever but just quietly sees to it that this superb orchestra plays at its best. Böhm's way with the two late symphonies is, in fact, highly sophisticated. The Unfinished begins in what seems to be a leisurely fashion but his performance of the first movement catches Schubert's mix of lyricism and high drama with extraordinary acuity. Conversely, the second movement seems swift but brings the work full circle with an equally extraordinary sense of calm and catharsis in the final pages. The celebrated 1963 Ninth out-Furtwänglers Furtwängler in the myriad means it uses within a single grand design to capture the symphony's sense of danger and derring-do in addition to its lyricism, nobility, and earthy Austrian charm.
In the early symphonies, Böhm's approach is simpler-seeming and more direct. Rhythms are so finely propelled, the pulse so effortlessly sustained, the music always lands on its feet. The zest comes from the stylish Berlin string- playing; melodically, it's the woodwinds (every one a Lieder singer) who catch the beauty of Schubert's melodies and the skirl of the attendant descants. You won't find yourself tiring of Böhm's approach; he doesn't give in to irritating idiosyncrasies (à la Harnoncourt), but ensures that the Schubertian stream is always clear to the eye and sweet to the taste.