The grand, glorious chaos of Ives’s Fourth Symphony — with its mad layering of different tempos, its discontinuities, its need for two conductors merely to keep the whole thing together — has rarely had this clarity. I’ve never heard the clearing of the air near the start of the second movement, marked “Comedy,” sound so eerily gleaming, nor the climaxes feel so sleek. There’s burning patience in the third movement Fugue, and mystery hovering over the Finale. Z.W.