The Chamber Music of Camille Saint-Saëns. With Renaud Capuçon and Bertrand Chamayou

The sonata for violin and piano No.1 in D minor Op 75 of Camille Saint-Saëns has long been a favourite of mine (as it was a favourite of Jascha Heifetz). The sonata is beautifully written, passionate and melodic, and it is difficult to understand its comparative neglect by violinists who usually trot out yet more performances of the Franck, Debussy and Ravel sonatas. I have been listening to the sonata on a recent CD by the French violinist Renaud Capuçon, ably partnered by Bertrand Chamayou; a truly excellent performance of a work that benefits greatly from the sophisticated playing of violinists from the Franco-Belgian school of playing. (Heifetz, of course, was a chameleon who could expertly adapt his playing to the French repertoire. He recorded this sonata twice in his career, both recordings excellent, and those are the versions I grew up with).

It is difficult to understand the comparative neglect of the music of Saint-Saëns. His “Organ Symphony” is trotted out from time to time, as is his Carnival of the Animals. He wrote a great deal of music during his long life (1835-1921) and much of it, like this sonata, is truly first class. But one does not come across it often. The CD continues with the better known substantial trio for violin, cello and piano No.2 in E minor Op 92. A lovely work in five movements where Capuçon and Chamayou are joined by the cellist, Edgar Moreau (what happened to Gautier Capuçon?) Also on the 75 minute CD is the sonata for cello and piano No.1 in C minor Op 32, a work I have never heard before in my entire life. I'll save it for later, not being especially partial to cello and piano sonatas.

Like Arthur Grumiaux in the previous century, Renaud Capuçon is a major violinist who really comes into his own in chamber music. This CD (Erato) is expertly recorded and balanced; balancing a violin, cello and piano is not easy. The CD is warmly recommended to lovers of chamber music, fine music, and the playing of three expert instrumentalists. Not a CD that I will file away; I'll keep it near at hand.

More Emile Sauret from Nazrin Rashidova

Emile Sauret is best known for his fiendish cadenza for the Paganini D major violin concerto. His 24 études-caprices Op.64 are little known: until Nazrin Rashidova came along and she has now recorded all 24 in four volumes. Four and a half hours of solo violin playing.

There is a lot of double-stopping in these études-caprices. Each lasts for around 12-15 minutes, and Sauret was obviously a stickler for intonation, and for varied and versatile bowing. Etude 21 lasts for 15 minutes and is double-stopped throughout. The works will fascinate aficionados of violin playing; in general, they are less overtly virtuosic and have less “circus tricks” than comparable pieces by Paganini or Heinrich Ernst. I can think of no criticism of Ms Rashidova's playing. For the current volume, she again plays a Stradivari of around 1685 that once belonged to Sauret.

Congratulations and thanks to Ms Rashidova, and also to courageous Naxos. Where would lovers of classical music be without companies such as Naxos, Hyperion, Harmonia Mundi, and others. Ms Rashidova wrote the excellent liner notes for this release, and also co-produced the (excellent) recording. Quite a talented young woman; she looks attractive (from the one photo Naxos features) so thank goodness she did not record for Warner or DG where 8-10 photos of her would be plastered throughout the booklet. Naxos's cover features a large picture of .... Emile Sauret.

Christmas 1948

Things would start around October when my mother would assemble the ingredients for The Christmas Pudding. We children were all invited to stir the mixture, into which were incorporated sixpenny pieces (unwashed). The puddings were then boiled overnight for eight hours, with the family on alert to ensure the puddings never boiled dry. On the 24^th December, two chickens were selected from the bottom of the garden to suffer the ultimate penalty. My father tried to kill the two by tying their necks in knots, but the chickens broke free and ran squawking around the room. Mr Pooley, the local butcher, was summoned and dispatched the two fowls with a blow to their necks. My mother then plucked them, decapitated them, and cleaned out their entrails, watched by her appalled children. On 25^th, the family settled down to a Christmas dinner (food, at last!) and devoured the chickens, the vegetables, and the “custard” with the Christmas pudding.

Fast forward to 2020 ......

Sigiswald Kuijken and the Bach Brandenburgs

Having much enjoyed listening to Sigiswald Kuijken and La Petite Bande during my traversal of Bach cantatas, I decided to invest in La Bande and Kuijken in the Brandenburgs (Deutsche Harmonia Mundi, 1993-4). Bach's music needs expert players, and a well-balanced recording so that the many parts of Bach's polyphony can be heard and enjoyed. This Kuijken set conforms to those requirements. In particular, with Kuijken in charge, the frequent important solo violin input (for example, in the 4^th Brandenburg) can be enjoyed. Tempi in this set can be somewhat brisk (for example, in the final movement of the third Brandenburg), but I was never unduly disturbed.

One oddity of the set is that there is no trumpet in the second Brandenburg; a horn is used instead. I can't say I am unduly bothered nor, I suspect would Bach had been; he was always varying instrumentation and vocal parts according to what performers were available for the occasion. And, secretly, I prefer the sound of the horn (“Clarintrompette”) in chamber music, where a traditional trumpet is a bit strident and does not blend well with the other chamber instruments. For the “missing” second movement of the third Brandenburg, where Bach just left just two cadential chords, Kuijken offers a short solo violin flourish before the chords. Personally, I prefer Kati Debretzeni's improvisation in the Pinnock recording, but almost anything is better than just playing the two chords; better to omit them altogether and just go into the last movement unless one is going to insert something tasteful and appropriate. The first and third movements of no.5 dance along impressively and, for once, the harpsichord is well-balanced and not too dominant. The slow movement has some lovely duet playing, particularly the violin playing of Sigiswald himself. Sigiswald is ably aided throughout the set by his extraordinary brothers: Barthold (recorder and flute) and Wieland (cello). An all-star family.

Well, that is probably the end of my Brandenburg listening for a few months. They are, however, eternally enjoyable and I never grow tired of listening to them, particularly if the recording is well played, well-balanced and one can hear all the parts. Nearly 70 years ago when I first met them, the Brandenburgs were the province of large symphony orchestras. At least some things in music are done better nowadays.

Yet More Shostakovich

 Hiding away in lockdown, unable to travel anywhere, I tuck into my favourite (easily available) foods: scallops, mussels, and fresh squid. Forget soles and crabs; England does not boast many venues that sell these two. And my listening choices are narrowing. With many, many hundreds of CDs to choose from on my shelves, I now rarely buy additions – though if someone would like a few hundred cast-offs, please contact me. My current narrowed listening preferences centre increasingly on the music of two composers: Johann Sebastian Bach, and Dmitri Shostakovich.

The former is self-evident; the latter a bit of a mystery. Why Shostakovich and not, for example, Vaughan Williams, or Prokofiev? Whatever; my two CD additions are Shostakovich's piano quintet (of which I now have eight versions), Shostakovich's Seven Romances on Poems by Alexander Blok, and Shostakovich's late violin sonata. Dmitri is raking in the royalties. The Blok Seven Romances appear rarely in recordings, probably because they need a piano trio and a soprano who can sing in Russian. This is totally unjust, since they are meticulously crafted and make engrossing listening even if, like me, one does not speak Russian. The piano quintet is played by the augmented Trio Wanderer; it sounds good (Harmonia Mundi) and is probably at least the equal of my other seven versions. The Blok songs are sung (with members of the trio) by Ekaterina Semenchuk; I have no comparisons to make, but all seems to go well and I listened with great enjoyment. This is late Shostakovich (Opus 127).

More late Shostakovich on my second CD purchase: the late (Opus 134) sonata for violin and piano really well played and recorded. Both the violinist (Natalia Prishepenko) and pianist (the late Dina Ugorskaja) are new to me. They make an excellent duo and, for a change, violin and piano are well balanced. The CD also contains Sergei Prokofiev's first violin and piano sonata, a work understandably much recorded and superior to the Shostakovich sonata; late Shostakovich is often somewhat threadbare and meagre.

Back to this evening's meal: Saucisson de porc de l'Ardèche, and ... scallops (salt, pepper, garlic, and olive oil). My “house wine” is now a red from the region of Carcassonne (where I spent many happy days with two friends in September of this year). And Bach's cantata BWV 13 Meine Seufzer, meine Tränen. Happy lockdown.

Bach's Brandenburg Concertos

A few years ago, I visited Schloss Köthen (not too far from Berlin) with one of my sisters, in a kind of Bach pilgrimage. Bach worked in Köthen from 1717 to 1723 as Hofkapellmeister to Prince Leopold of Anhalt-Köthen, and much of his instrumental music, including the six Brandenburg concertos, dates from that era.

I have seven sets of the Brandenburgs on record. Busch and the Busch Chamber Orchestra (1935) and Klemperer and the Philharmonia (1960) are personal favourites, since I greatly respect both Busch and Klemperer in Bach. Menuhin and the Bath Festival Orchestra (1959) have a sentimental value, since I was at a concert in the Festival Hall in London and heard them play all the Brandenburgs (with Menuhin making a real cat's breakfast of the violino piccolo part in the first Brandenburg). Richter and the Munich Bach Orchestra (1968) are good middle-of-the-road recordings. Britten and the English Chamber Orchestra (also 1968) do not greatly appeal to me, neither does Adrian Boult conducting the LPO (1972).

The Brandenburgs are usually described as “orchestral” works, but they sound best when played by a small chamber orchestra. Like septets, octets and nonets, they do not really require a conductor, although someone to organise balance and tempi is often useful. Bach called them six concerts avec plusieurs instruments in his dedication to the Margrave of Brandenburg. In the Festival Hall performances by Menuhin's band, I particularly recall the visual effect in the third Brandenburg of seeing the counterpoint travelling from left (first violins) to right (basso). An example of stereophonic listening.

To succeed on record, the Brandenburgs need a fine set of instrumentalists, a good balance so the polyphony and counterpoint can be heard, and a good recording. My favourites of the six concertos are numbers 3, 4, 5 and 6. I am not over-fond of brass instruments in chamber works (numbers 1 and 2, although David Blackadder's trumpet in no.2 with Pinnock almost converts me). I am currently renewing my acquaintance with these works by listening to my seventh set, the European Brandenburg Ensemble directed by Trevor Pinnock (2006). This is the best of my bunch of seven recordings. For the missing second movement of the third concerto where Bach left only two orchestral chords, almost certainly expecting some kind of improvisation, Pinnock's band inserts a highly appropriate solo violin piece (a superb improvisation by Kati Debretzeni); to me, this is the best solution yet to the (maybe) “missing” music. In the first concerto, the violino piccolo really does not make much of a mark (Menuhin would have been thankful), but what can a violino piccolo do against two horns, three oboes and a bassoon? It's as much Bach's miscalculation as one by the recording engineers. You can combine a violin solo with flute or clarinet, but not with oboe or brass, Herr Bach. For a change in these works, the brass instruments do not give cause for unease concerning intonation where Pinnock's band is concerned. I also do not note one single movement in the whole set where I would disagree with Pinnock's chosen tempo for the music.

Anyway, around 300 years since they were written, the six Brandenburgs make superb listening. Eternal music. Not too much music written today is going to make 300 years, I suspect. I love the intense polyphony of the Brandenburgs; number six sounds positively seventeenth century. Music to keep to hand.

Joseph Haydn's String Quartets

For most of my nearly 70 years of listening to music, I usually passed over the music of Joseph Haydn. I probably thought that a man who wrote 106 symphonies and 30 or so string quartets could not be a serious candidate for anything other than Tafelmusik. My loss; Haydn's music rarely explores the heights and depths of human emotions, but it is highly engaging music to listen to as I am currently discovering exploring Haydn's string quartets in a giant 10-CD box recorded for Naïve by the Quatuor Mosaïques, recorded in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Not being a Haydn fan in the past, I must have bought the box many years ago as an impulse buy.

Haydn was always so bloody cheerful! Not for him the depressions and fears in the music of Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert .... and Shostakovich! Haydn is characterised by the inventiveness of his music, his ever-present good humour, and the sheer professionalism of his writing. The recordings by the Quatuor Mosaïques come over well, with only an occasional rasp from the violins to remind us that this is a recording “on original instruments” (as the saying goes). The playing suits Haydn's music. So far I have listened to the three quartets of Op 77, and the six quartets of Op 76. Next up: the six quartets of Opus 64.

Sabine Devieilhe - Chanson d'Amour

The best song writers come from Germany-Austria, France, and Russia. Not much from the Spaniards, the Italians, or the British (the latter not since the 17^th century). I have been listening to a new CD of French mélodies, sung by Sabine Devieilhe. Titled “Chanson d'Amour” it collects 29 French mélodies by Fauré, Poulenc, Ravel and Debussy. I never tire of Devielhe's voice; it is a young, attractive soprano. Happy listening.

Khachaturian's Violin Concerto, and Antje Weithaas (again)

My taste in music centres on the 18^th and 19^th centuries, plus the first couple of decades of the 20^th. I have little interest in most of the music of the past 100 years (with significant exceptions, such as that of Prokofiev and Shostakovich). Around the middle of the past century, however, appeared four violin concertos that appeal to me greatly: the concerto by Benjamin Britten with a very English flavour, the concerto by Erich Wolfgang Korngold with a very Viennese flavour, the first violin concerto of Dmitri Shostakovich with a very Russian flavour – and the violin concerto by Aram Khachaturian with a very Armenian flavour.

I have been listening to a recording of the Khachaturian concerto played by the German violinist, Antje Weithaas. It is difficult to decide what to admire most about Weithaas's performance: her extraordinary sense of rhythm, her consummate technical expertise, or her exemplary ability to adapt to a music written in a very different idiom. She joins Julian Sitkovetsky (with Niyazi) and Leonid Kogan (with Monteux) on the podium for this concerto, thanks also to excellent and idiomatic support from the Staatsorchester Rheinische Philharmonie conducted by Daniel Raiskin. Highly recommended listening to counteract the morbid world of Covid-19.

From the Archives: Katrin Scholz

Raiding my archives of recordings, it is tempting to imagine that those who become really famous are always la crème de la crème, but it's not always so. Country of birth, financial supporters, powerful agents, international recording contracts, racial or nationalist supporter groups and critics, confidence in performing in public ... all can count for even more than sheer top talent at playing the violin. I have a large number of recordings featuring Vilde Frang, Katrin Scholz, Antje Weithaas, Wolfgang Schneiderhan, Adolf Busch, Gerhardt Taschner, Erich Röhn, Georg Kulenkampff, and many, many others that are hardly household names. Then there are good violinists who achieve media fame through eccentricities – such as Gilles Apap, Patricia Kopatchinskaja, Nigel Kennedy, Nemanja Radulovic. And meteorites such as Ginette Neveu and Josef Hassid.

Katrin Scholz was born in Berlin in 1969 (the same year as the youngest of my three children, as it happens). Her Berlin Classics recordings mainly date from the period 1997-2006 when she would have been in her late twenties and early thirties. She recorded for the German company, Berlin Classics. One of the company's most welcome features is listing the composers for the cadenzas used; few companies do this, and it's vaguely annoying when they do not. In the Beethoven concerto, Scholz plays the cadenza by Joachim (with Kreisler's in the third movement). In Mozart's 4^th and 5^th violin concertos, she also uses Joachim's cadenzas. For the Beethoven concerto first movement, I prefer Kreisler's to all the other many contenders.

Scholz appears to have remained Berlin-based for much of her career, and I have five CDs from Berlin Classics, many of them with the Kammerorchester Berlin. They include superb, classical recordings of the Beethoven violin concerto, plus three Mozart concertos, and the Brahms concerto. She also recorded the Sibelius concerto, Saint-Saëns' third concerto, and Martinu's second (why bother?) In addition there is a Spanish Dance CD where she plays miscellaneous pieces by de Falla, Sarasate, Ravel, et al. Katrin Scholz playing “Spanish” is an unexpected success; pigeon-holing her as a superb player of the German classics, one does not expect her to play the 21 tracks of Spanish dances as to the manor born. But she does, with a real sense of style and rhythm. Bravo, Katrin. Her five CDs will never go in my throw-out bin.

In praise of skimming and skipping

Although I'll be 80 years old next year, I am no technophobe: to prove it, I have three PCs (why?), two laptop computers (why?) and two mobile phones. Plus a CD player with all the peripherals, and a portable DVD player. I listen to CDs. I play my violin (occasionally), I read paper books of which I have hundreds, I read books on my Kindle (wherein lie probably another hundred). All alone in the civilised world: I do not have a television, and have not had one for over 30 years now.

Music CDs are fine: you insert them in the player, push “start” and listen to Kreisler playing Kreisler, or whatever. If you are interested in the names of the recording engineers and the transfer artist, you can read it later in the booklet. Books are fine, either on a Kindle or on paper. You can skip over the boring bits of text (“get on with the plot!”). If you are really interested in the names of the editors, sub-editors and typesetters, you can usually look this up later. But DVDs of films are another planet. You have to endure endless lists of those who did the make-up and the hair styling, and whatever else, and there is no skipping. (At least, there probably is, but every time I touch a DVD player button I find myself back at the beginning of the film, with all the stuff about hair stylists, or whatever). From family visits, I have gathered that television is far worse: no “fast forward” button so one has to endure endless adverts for sanitary products, or news bulletins where the only thing of real interest comes at the end of the bulletin after twenty minutes of trivia. One good reason I don't have a television (I get my news from the Web, where I can skim and skip). I like skimming and skipping. No one under the age of 60 will understand my aversion to video programmes. I am currently watching (on my portable DVD player) a Swedish television adaption of Henning Mankell's Wallender books. Well done, but I have to watch all the stuff that is of no interest to me. If I go back to the books on my shelves, I can skim ! Different planets.

Exploring the Archives: Sigiswald Kuijken, and Wilhelm Backhaus

As I have remarked before in this blog, recording quality and balance are often highly influenced by one's playback equipment. What sounds unsatisfactory via speakers, can often sound a lot better through headphones. I once drove a salesman to despair when I wanted to replace my speakers around a decade ago. I played my test CD through speaker after proposed speaker, with the salesman exclaiming “just listen to that bass!” But I wasn't too concerned about the bass sound, since so much of my listening is to violin music, and I was more interested in the feeble treble that came over. After many changes, I left without buying anything at that establishment.

I am currently diving back into my CD archives. Having gone through innumerable Bach cantatas as recorded by Suzuki and by Herreweghe, I am now on to innumerable Bach cantatas as recorded by Sigiswald Kuijken and his La Petite Bande. Balancing Bach cantatas is a problem, with the small orchestra, soloists and a choir all vying for attention. Too often — most noticeably with Suzuki — the recording emphasis favours the solo voices, with the orchestra in the background. Not so with Kuijken, and I am sure Bach would be happy to hear the band playing loud and clear, since Bach's vocal soloists are said often to have been a mixed bag, and Bach devoted much of his compositional skills to making sure the band was doing interesting things. The Kuijken recordings date from the period 2006-11. Unlike Suzuki and Herreweghe, he does not use a choir, but gives the choral work to the four soloists. I don't mind this in Bach cantatas, since I am not a fan of choirs and choral music. Kuijken also favours female altos, rather than males, and I nod approvingly. Male altos usually get up my nose. Suzuki, Herreweghe and Kuijken recorded dozens of Bach cantatas over more than a decade, with changing soloists. There is no "best buy", as so often, but I am grateful to have so many Bach cantatas recorded by all three men.

Also from my archives, I am re-listening with great pleasure to Wilhelm Backhaus playing five Beethoven piano sonatas. This is the kind of piano playing I enjoy; Backhaus was a formidable technician, but his playing draws attention to the music, and not to the star pianist. In this, Igor Levit somewhat resembles Backhaus; my kind of piano playing. I am not a great fan of the Beethoven piano sonatas, and listen to them rarely. When I do listen, I like them played by no-nonsense Backhaus or Levit.

Next off on my archive re-listening will be the violinist Katrin Scholz; not a household name, but a superb violinist.

Igor Levit and Beethoven Piano Sonatas

I was surprised recently reading a survey of recordings of Beethoven's final piano sonata, Opus 111 by the commentator Norman Lebrecht, to read that of the 150 or so recordings of this work, Mr Lebrecht did not mention that by Igor Levit. Levit's recording was extravagantly praised when it arrived (not least by me). After nearly 70 years of reading critical opinions, I have gathered that they are 70% subjective, and only 30% objective. Opinions can be distorted by fashion, nationalism, racial preferences, political animosity, advertising and sponsorship. I recall the mother of a prominent violinist telling me once: “But we paid for international distribution!” And anyone in the current social media climate daring to voice any kind of opinion, is bound to attract a negative claque.

I have been re-listening to Igor Levit's recording of the five final Beethoven piano sonatas (omitting the Hammerklavier, that I have never taken to). Levit is a serious pianist who does not play to the gallery, and I always feel that the music coming from his finger tips, is the music as he feels it in his bones. He remains my kind of pianist. If there are indeed around 150 recordings of Opus 111, there cannot possibly be a “best”. But Levit's is up there in the top 10%, for me.

Giovanni Battista Pergolesi

A big cheer for Simone Kermes and her new CD of twelve arias from "18th century Naples". A CD I really hesitate to file on my shelves; I need it close to hand! Astonishing, and scandalous, that nine out of the twelve arias are claimed to be "world premier recordings". The music from Giovanni Battista Pergolesi, Nicola Antonio Porpora, Leonardo Vinci, Leonardo Leo and Johann Adolf Hasse is as delightful as strawberries and cream on a warm summer's day. Nearly as delightful as Kermes' singing is the band of Le Musiche Nove conducted by Claudio Osele. A 24 carat gold CD. I am next in line for whatever Simone Kermes comes up with in the future.

Simone Kermes, and Handel

Not too many composers or compositions have survived in the top ranks of my nearly 70 years of listening. One who has survived, however, is Georg Frideric Händel (however his name is spelled through the ages). To this day, I listen to a lot of Handel's music (mainly arias from his 50 or so operas, or his many Italian cantatas). Like Richard Strauss, Handel appears to have loved the soprano voice (and I join them in this). For 18^th century baroque music, I often turn to the German soprano Simone Kermes. She is a lover of 18^th century baroque opera, and this shows in her singing, her dedication, and in her choice of musical partners. My current listening is a CD of Handel's music with the late Alan Curtis and Il Complesso Barocco. A wonderful selection of arias by lovelorn sorceresses billed as La Maga Abbandonata. One hour of listening to some of the greatest music of Europe, sung by a supreme coloratura soprano. A recording from my “keep at hand and do not file away” selection. Who can possibly resist “Pena tirana” from Amadigi, or “Ah, mio cor” from Alcina? Not I. Music for eternity, music to die to.

 

Domenico Scarlatti, and Yevgeny Sudbin

I have just been re-listening with enormous pleasure to two and a half hours of 36 piano sonatas of Domenico Scarlatti. The variety and powers of invention found in these works is truly amazing; few last for longer than four or five minutes, but I much prefer two and a half hours of Scarlatti to two and a half hours of Chopin, Liszt or Brahms. Many pianists include some of the sonatas in recitals — on disc, there are pianists as varied as Clara Haskil and Yuja Wang — but my 36 for this session were played by the pianist born in St Petersburg, Yevgeny Sudbin. He is a pianist with a relatively low profile – no Yuja or Lang Lang, he. But he is a highly musical pianist with an immaculate technique and he takes to Scarlatti like a duck to water. He plays, thank goodness, on a modern piano; although the sonatas were written for an 18^th century harpsichord, they sound so much better when played on a good modern piano whatever learned musical pundits may decree. Three stars for Sudbin, but also three stars for Scarlatti. This was only a sampling of the 550 or so keyboard sonatas by Scarlatti (who was born in 1685, the miraculous year that also saw the births of Handel and Bach).

Eating in Cambodia 2011

In 2011, with two friends, we hired a taxi and were taken from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap (Cambodia). The 300 kilometres journey took five hours. Halfway, we stopped at a roadside restaurant for lunch. The menu was rice, plus either vegetables, fish, or chicken. The mother and (presumably) daughter, served. The granddaughter, aged around 12-13, translated and calculated the bill in Cambodian riel, Thai baht, American dollars, or European euros. The rice came from the field behind the restaurant; the vegetables likewise, the fish likewise (there was a lake) and the chicken likewise. All was delicious, freshly cooked, and cost us around $3 per person (because we were obviously foreign tourists ready for fleecing).

Since 2011, I have eaten thousands of restaurant meals. But that roadside meal in Cambodia still sticks in my mind with great affection. I hope the family restaurant is still there, and thriving

Antje Weithaas in Brahms with a poor conductor (Revised)

To Portsmouth on 9th December 2004 (!) to hear Elisabeth Batiashvili play the Brahms violin concerto. Only, it transpires, it wasn't Batiashvili (again) but a substitute young woman of exceptional talent, but with an inferior violin; she appeared to be playing on a violin that did not respond to pressure -- forte on the E and A strings came over as being harsh. But you could have heard a pin drop during the cadenza; she really made the audience concentrate on what was being played. Her name: Antje Weithaas. The orchestra plainly did not like the conductor, Rolf Gupta (Norway). Conducting without a baton, his arms became two flippers that twitched up and down, which plainly left the exposed, high, pianissimo violins at the start of the Prelude to Lohengrin, all at sea. From grim faces all round, it seemed as if hard words had been exchanged during the interval; the conductor came on late for the second half (Schumann second symphony) and the orchestra only managed a slight smile when he tripped and nearly fell at the end of the concert. I doubt we'll be seeing him again with the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra.

Augustin Hadelich and Paganini's Capricci

“Paganini's capricci are often considered merely études used to improve technique. It is easy to forget that he uses these virtuosic acrobatics to serve the music; not vice versa. Each caprice is beautiful, witty and original with its own quirky personality; some are friends, but others are ferocious beasts to be tamed!” So writes Augustin Hadelich for his 2017 recording of the 24 Paganini capricci, and this typifies his approach to the works: highly musical (as well, of course, technically impeccable). With 16 different recordings of the complete Paganini capricci, I probably have enough to be going on with. I like many of my recordings, but I cannot claim to have an obvious favourite, though the recent Sueye Park and Hadelich stand out as worthy candidates. You need to play these works when you are young, full of enthusiasm, and with a reputation to establish.

In Europe, at least from the 1920s onwards, there were many specialist recording teams experienced in recording classical music – especially in England, Germany and the Netherlands. America has a more mixed reputation in classical recording; one thinks of the lousy recorded sound given to Arturo Toscanini in the 1950s, or the too close-up sound given to Michael Rabin for his recording of the Paganini capricci. I often have the impression that American recording studios are more geared to pop music and pop bands than to classical music, and that perhaps explains my occasional qualms over the recorded sound of Augustin Hadelich's recording of the capricci in Boston. At times the violin sounds somewhat aggressive, which is almost certainly not the fault of Hadelich's Guarneri del Gesù violin, nor of his playing. The sound needs more “air” around it, and the violin needs to be a couple of metres or so more distant from the microphones. A pity. An excellent comparison as to how a solo violin should sound when recorded could be three-star Antje Weithaas recorded in Cologne in 2015 in the complete solo violin works of Eugène Ysaÿe, and Johann Sebastian Bach. No aural aggression there! Just happy listening to a solo violin.

Bach's cantata BWV 21: Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis

Bach's cantata BWV 21: Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis is one of my very favourites. I have three recordings of the work: Herreweghe (1990), Suzuki (1997) and Kuijken (1988). Bach would appear to have greatly valued the work, since he relaunched it several times, on occasions replacing the soprano with a tenor, depending on which artists were available at the time (so much for playing the music exactly as the composer would have imagined it).

Even for Bach, the cantata BWV 21 is highly multi-layered and contrapuntal as Bach weaves together solo instrumentalists, solo voices, the choir, and the band, often with highly sophisticated harmonic changes. It is important that we hear all the voices, and this is where Herreweghe scores in his recording for Harmonia Mundi. I also like his team of soloists — Barbara Schlick, Howard Crook, and Peter Harvey who, to my ears, outshine Suzuki's team of Monika Frimmer, Gerd Türk, and Peter Kooij. Both Suzuki and Herreweghe have the inimitable Marcel Ponseele as oboe soloist. But Herreweghe's recording is my favourite, since I love hearing all the strands of the music

Vaughan Jones: History of the Salon

A new CD to appear introduces us to 23 “salon” pieces written between 1823 and 1913. Forgotten music, in the main, with just a few bits still around such as François Schubert's The Bee, Moritz Moszkowski's Guitarre, or Franz von Vecsey's Valse Triste. Looking through my files of alternative recordings of some of the pieces on the CD, competitive versions were recorded mainly at the beginning of the past century by the likes of the young Mischa Elman, Jan Kubelik, Maud Powell, Franz von Vecsey, and others. The 23 tracks on this CD really are grandad stuff, and all praise to Vaughan Jones for exhuming them. Some pieces, such as Joachim Raff's Cavatina, I used to play on my violin in my young days.

The pieces rarely demand extreme virtuosity, but they do demand a real sense of style. Vaughan Jones does not make you forget Kreisler, Heifetz or Grumiaux, and his violin can sound a little thin and fragile on occasions, particularly in the upper registers. But perhaps I still have the sound of Augustin Hadelich's violin in my ears. On occasions, the rhythmic articulation sounds a bit contrived, rather than flowing naturally from the music. But this is nit-picking; the CD is highly enjoyable and it is sad that so many of these pieces are rarely played nowadays, being replaced by eternal renditions of the Spring sonata, or Ravel's violin & piano sonata.

The CD, with 23 tracks, lasts a generous 83 minutes. The pieces are best enjoyed 3-4 at a time, so some form of shuffle-play facility is a big plus. Let us hope this starts a trend for exhuming the salon music for violin and piano of the past centuries. I have enjoyed listening to this CD, and will enjoy it many times again in the future. The music is mainly lyrical and sentimental in character, and listened to in short chunks, it whiles away a happy and relaxed half an hour at a time. All praise and thanks to Vaughan Jones and his pianist, Marcus Price. The CD is exceptionally well recorded, and the violin and piano well balanced.

Augustin Hadelich. Violinist in Czech Music

I had not come across the playing of the violinist Augustin Hadelich before, so I bought his new CD mainly out of curiosity, and also because I like almost all the pieces on the disc. Hadelich does not disappoint; he has an impeccable technique, an excellent musical sense, and his violin makes a very nice sound. I have always liked Janacek's sonata for violin and piano, and I love the way Hadelich plays it here. The fourth of Dvorak's Four Romantic Pieces can often seem to go on for too long, but not here, since it is played with sensitivity and a real feeling for the rise and fall of the music and the melody. I grew up in the 1950s with Ginette Neveu's recording of Josef Suk's highly attractive Four Pieces opus 17 (on an LP with the Sibelius violin concerto). Hadelich's performance here is excellent -- three stars -- and I much admire his varied vibrato, something of a lesson in vibrato usage. As throughout the violin and piano pieces on the CD, Charles Owen is an excellent pianist and partner, and the recording is fine and well balanced. Hadelich rounds off the CD with two evergreen pieces by Dvorak that I do like: Songs my Mother Taught me Op 55 No.4 and the Humoresque Op 101 No.7 (Kreisler). Both excellently played by both artists.

For some reason, the music of Antonin Dvorak has always ruffled my feathers, and has rarely been to my taste, except for a few short pieces. This has been a life-long experience and includes the concertos, the symphonies, and the string quartets. Whatever the reason, Dvorak and I have never got along together. At some point I'll summon enough enthusiasm to sit down and listen to Hadelich and 31 minutes of the Dvorak violin concerto, a work that has never inspired me.

As is the current fashion, Hadelich is marketed by Warner as a pop star, with no less than six photos of him in the slender booklet. The rationale is hard to understand; do the marketing people really think that on seeing his photo on the CD hordes of teenage girls are going to run out and invest in Dvorak, Suk and Janacek? Probably not even Hadelich's mother would claim he is particularly photogenic. Six photos of Hadelich, but nary an image of Dvorak, Suk or Janacek. As the Americans say: go figure

The Music of J.S. Bach, and Beatrice Rana, again

I can never explain to myself – or to anyone else – just why I find the music of J.S. Bach so satisfying. There is more drama in the music of Tchaikovsky or Shostakovich. A greater profusion of beautiful melodies in the music of Handel, Schubert or Bellini. A greater range of human emotions in the music of Mozart or Beethoven. I have just been re-listening to the 77 minutes of the 30 variations of Bach's Goldberg Variations: satisfying! My attention never wanders. The performance to which I listened today was once again the highly personal account by young Beatrice Rana, who plays the music exactly as I would hope to play it (if ever I had learned to play the piano). What is so eternally satisfying about these variations? I cannot possibly explain.

Leonidas Kavakos and Enrico Pace in Beethoven sonatas

Every violinist worthy of the name (and some unworthy) has played the violin part of the ten sonatas for violin and piano by Beethoven. Even I have played them. Many violinists have recorded the complete set, starting with Kreisler and Franz Rupp in the 1930s. They are, in the main, genial works and not too typical of Beethoven in tub-thumping mood. My favourites are the second (op.12 no.2 in A major), the eighth (op.30 no.3 in G major) and the last sonata (op 96 in G major). To be heard at their best on record, they demand two exemplary partners, plus a realistic balance between piano and violin. Though as a violinist I hate to admit it, in most of the sonatas the pianist is even more important than the violinist. On my shelves I have eleven complete sets of the sonatas, starting with the classic Kreisler set. My latest re-listening has been to the complete set recorded 2011-12 by Leonidas Kavakos and Enrico Pace (re-issued recently by Sony).

I have been an admirer of Kavakos's playing for many years, and I have also developed a healthy respect for Enrico Pace as a duo partner. The pair do not disappoint in these Beethoven sonatas, and the recorded balance is excellent and the balance between the two musicians exactly as wanted. What more can one ask? Even the re-issue price is a real bargain. With my eleven sets, I really, really do not need more, but when I want to listen again to the Beethoven violin and piano sonatas, my hand will always stray now towards Kavakos and Pace. They are both so musical !

Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade, and Vasily Petrenko

Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade is a wonderful, colourful orchestral suite in four movements. To be heard at its best, it needs a first-class orchestra and either a first-class concert hall, or a first-class recording. Recording a full symphony orchestra is a tricky business, with no surrounding concert hall reverberation and audience to round-off the sound, and no visual clues as to who is playing what. Some sound engineers go for multi-channel spotlighting to bring out individual instruments; others rely on just a few microphones to give a “natural” balanced sound. Both techniques are open to miscalculation.

As an admirer of Vasily Petrenko, and of Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade, I bought a new CD where Petrenko conducts the excellent Oslo Philharmonic in the work. The sound is “natural”, with little spotlighting, so that the work comes over in pastel colours rather than bright oriental. To listen to Scheherazade (the solo violin) the sultan would at times have needed a hearing aid. Heaven forbid that Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade could ever be just a little bit boring and monochrome; but it is here. We need a little more colour!

No shortage of competitors: I have Beecham and the RPO (1957), Gergiev and the Kirov Orchestra (2001), Kletzki and the Philharmonia (circa 1958), Markevitch and the LSO (1962), plus a few others. The next company to record Scheherazade needs to think carefully about orchestral balance, spotlighting, and recording craft. In this work, an inspirational conductor is not the primary asset; the composer, the orchestra, and the sound take priority, for once.The conductor just needs to make sure that things work.

Igor Stravinsky: a Fading Star

In the 1950s and 60s when I was growing up, Igor Stravinsky was a “great composer”. I recall going to a concert some time in the 1960s at the Festival Hall in London where the great man himself conducted his Oedipus Rex – at midnight, since that was the only performing slot available, even for a great man. In the early 1960s when a student at Oxford, I recall buying a recording of his “advanced” works Threni, and Agon. Dodecaphonic, no less!

His star has faded, over the decades. He is now remembered, affectionately, for his early Russian ballets The Firebird, Petrushka and ... from time to time .. the Rite of Spring. His pastiche of themes by Pergolesi (arranged with Samuel Dushkin) is also often played by violinists. Apart from that, Igor has been eclipsed by his near-contemporary, Sergei Rachmaninov, whom he once described as “a six foot six scowl”. Nowadays, his compatriots Prokofiev and Shostakovich out-play old Igor any month of the year.

More Vieuxtemps from Naxos and Reto Kuppel

My personal catalogue of recorded music that I possess lists no less than 147 pieces of music by Henri Vieuxtemps; probably par for the course for a lover of violin music. A friend added six pieces with a new CD from Naxos on which Reto Kuppel plays a selection of works for violin and orchestra. Most of the works are highly lyrical and not overtly virtuosic, except for the Hommage à Paganini, and the variations on a theme by Bellini. Agreeable music, not challenging, and good for sitting back for enjoyable listening. Kuppel is an excellent violinist – stylish and sophisticated, as befits this 19^th century Franco-Belgian composer. There is an interesting mini- double concerto for violin and cello (duo brillant) in which Kuppel is joined by cellist Kirill Bogatyrev. Two of the pieces on the CD — the Souvenir de Russie, and Old England — are something of pot-boilers, however.

The orchestra, recorded in Doha, is the Qatar Philharmonic, a new one to me; one does not readily associate Arabs with the music of Vieuxtemps; the orchestra here plays a very subservient part to the solo violin. However, all goes well and the orchestra acquits itself impeccably. The recording is good, and Naxos once again puts lovers of violin music in its debt (despite it renaming Vieuxtemps as "Henry"). Despite my 147 pieces of music by Vieuxtemps, the six pieces here have no duplicate recordings in my collection. Never tired of listening to the music of Henri Vieuxtemps

Gut Strings

Many things conspire to raise my blood pressure (which is why I take pills): Donald Trump, “environmentalists”, the current British “government” – and music commentators going on about “gut strings”, as if a gut string for a violin, viola or cello gives access to a different sound altogether. In my youth, I used only gut strings (made by the same company that also offered tennis racket strings). Jascha Heifetz used gut strings (D, and A) as, I suspect, did most of the 19^th and early 20^th century violinists. Gut strings can give a warmer sound than metal-covered strings. But not when played senza vibrato, as so often in “baroque” bands. What gut strings do not do, however, is create a different sound world. It depends on the player (viz, Heifetz). Which is why music critics and commentators breathing “gut strings” raise my blood pressure.

Alina Ibragimova and an All-Russian Shostakovich

Prior to around 1945, many big orchestras often had a distinctive sound. Thus the Vienna Philharmonic, Berlin Philharmonic, Leningrad Philharmonic, Philadelphia Orchestra, Paris Conservatoire Orchestra ... In the decades following 1945, orchestral sound began to standardise and homogenise, until distinguishing one orchestra from another started to become difficult. What differences there still are began to be cultural rather than purely sonic. To this day, Russian orchestras often sound more at home in Russian repertoire compared with their international rivals, just as British orchestras often sound more at home in Elgar, French orchestras in French repertoire, and Germans and Austrians in Wagner, Strauss and Bruckner. Here analysis stops; music can rarely be described in words. And conductors can make a difference: it is often remarked how Vasily Petrenko can make even British and Norwegian orchestras sound “Russian”. And it is recounted how once when a conductor was rehearsing the Berlin Philharmonic and Furtwängler stepped into the hall to listen, the orchestra's sound changed to a more bass-rich “Furtwängler” sound. Homogeneity does not extend to composers, however. Mascagni and Puccini can only be Italian. Rachmaninov and Tchaikovsky can only be Russian. Berlioz and Debussy can only be French. Bruckner and Brahms can only be Germanic.

I first heard Shostakovich's first violin concerto in the late 1950s when the British premiere (played by David Oistrakh, I think) was broadcast and a BBC “expert” explained it was not really a modern piece of music, but probably worth hearing. (The BBC said much the same thing when someone played Khachaturian's tuneful concerto. These music experts ... ) Rightfully, Shostakovich's Opus 77 in A minor has become almost popular, and has attracted some superb recordings since the days of Oistrakh and Kogan, including Lisa Batiashvili, James Ehnes, Ilian Garnetz, Leila Josefowicz, Leonidas Kavakos, Sergei Khatchatryan, Alexis Michlin, Stoika Milanova, Vadim Repin, Christian Tetzlaff, and Maxim Vengerov. I have 40 different recordings of the work, and the only real dud is one by Michael Erxleben where everything is played adagio di molto. Competition in recordings of this work is thus ferocious, and I listened with anticipation to my 41^st recording with an all-Russian cast with Alina Ibragimova and a Moscow orchestra conducted by Vladimir Jurowski (a birthday present from a good friend). Ibragimova has always been one of my favourite violinists; no “violin babe” she appears to play only music that appeals to her. In this brand new recording of the two Shostakovich violin concertos she displays all her strengths: an impeccable technique, a deep immersion in the music she is playing, a wide variety of dynamics, a demonstration-class use of vibrato. Her interaction with the ever-changing moods of Shostakovich's music, and with the Moscow orchestra, inspires constant admiration. To cap it all, the recording (Hyperion) and the all-important balance between orchestra and violin, are also demonstration-class. Out of 41 recordings of such quality, there can be no “best”. But I know that, whenever I want to listen to Shostakovich's Op 77 again (which is often), my fingers will stray towards this Ibragimova version. Three stars, and gold medal standard. I have only ever heard Ibragimova once in person (playing unaccompanied Bach in a small hall in Bath) but for me, she never fails. It appears that her next recording venture will be the 24 Paganini capricci – unusual repertoire for her. I'll be in the queue for the first copy

Quartetto Italiano

The twentieth century saw many, many fine string quartets. Particularly those centred on, or originating from, Central Europe. Two of my favourite quartets are the Busch Quartet (around the 1930s) and the Quartetto Italiano (around the 1970s). The Busch especially for Beethoven; the Italiano especially for Mozart and Schubert. At the moment I have a “Quartetto Italiano Season”; the quartet recorded all the Mozart string quartets, even those he wrote when he was three years old, or whatever. At the moment I am listening to the six “Haydn” quartets of Mozart where the Italiano's smooth, warm, sophisticated sound suits the music like a glove. A long way from the astringent “period performance” crowd, thank heavens. Next up on my listening list will be the last four quartets of Schubert; the Italiano's performance of D.887 in G major has fascinated me for over forty years now and I was happy to replace my original LP with a CD transfer. Following Schubert, I'll go on to the Italiano playing the late Beethoven quartets, and then on to the Debussy and Ravel quartets. It's addictive sound and playing.

Shostakovich's 24 Preludes & Fugues

I love Preludes & Fugues. Very few composers wrote them, the most famous of all being Johann Sebastian as part of his Das wohltemperierte Klavier. I have been listening to 24 preludes & fugues written by another composer: Dmitri Shostakovich. They were inspired by Tatiana Nikolayeva, who also recorded them. Few pianists do, and I cannot understand why since they are fascinating works in their own right, and highly memorable. I listened to them this week in a recording by Alexander Melnikov, and this is really first-rate. Melnikov romanticises the works, and Rachmaninov often springs to mind. Quite why I love preludes & fugues I do not understand: maybe a psychologist could shed some light. Meanwhile: back to the 24 and the 48!

Favourite Music

“Good evening, Saint Peter. Nice to see the Pearly Gates at last. My favourite music? That's a tough question. On your questionnaire: my favourite string quartet must be ... oh hek ... let's say Beethoven C sharp minor Opus 131. My favourite piano concerto? Oh, hek, again ... let's say either Mozart K 488, or Rachmaninov's second. My favourite violin concerto? Shostakovich A minor Opus 77. My favourite symphony? Mozart G minor K550, or Shostakovich No.10 in E minor. My favourite whisky? Caol Ila”. Dmitri Dmitriyevich scores high in my Pearly Gate entry list.

Some composers speak directly to a listener; some are just listened to, and it has nothing to do with “greatness”. Schubert speaks to me; Schumann does not. Rachmaninov speaks to me; Scriabin does not. Shostakovich speaks to me; Szymanowski does not. Like so much to do with music, the ultimate abstract art form, it is almost impossible to describe in words.

Véronique Gens: Nuits

I have for a long time loved the voice of the French soprano Véronique Gens. Her voice lacks that screechiness that afflicts many sopranos, and she has superb diction, a quality somewhat rare in many of her sister sopranos where, all too often, it can take you five minutes just to recognise in what language they are singing — French, German, Italian, or Serbo-Croat — let alone what are the words. Even my other favourite sopranos such as Sandrine Piau and Carolyn Sampson do not have Ms. Gens' power of clear diction.

Her latest CD is superb: 14 tracks (11 of them sung) from French mélodie repertoire. Now in her 50s, she sings beautifully. Taking a cue from Chausson's Chanson Perpétuelle that was scored for voice plus piano and string quartet, pretty well all the mélodies on this CD have the same piano quintet accompaniment (from I Giardini, and transcribed by Alexandre Dratwicki). This works very well indeed. A simple piano accompaniment for over an hour can lack colour and variety; an orchestral accompaniment can detract from the vocal line. A piano quintet provides exactly the right amount of support, variety and colour, to my mind. Most of the composers here are well-known, with a few exceptions such as Guy Ropartz and André Messager, and the inclusion of Marcel Louiguy's La Vie en Rose (famous from Edith Piaf) is a nice touch. I fear that, although it is still only April, another strong candidate for my Record of the Year has emerged. I am still on auto-buy for anything sung by Véronique Gens.

Naxos and Fritz Kreisler

Lovers of violin playing owe a big debt of thanks to the Naxos company that, decade after decade has chronicled violinists past and present. The company has been especially generous with retrospective issues of Fritz Kreisler – I now have seventeen Naxos CDs of Kreisler recordings. The latest is Volume 9 of the complete recordings, and covers the years 1927-8 and features 24 tracks, mostly of Kreisler with a pianist (usually Carl Lamson), plus four tracks with his brother Hugo, and Michael Raucheisen in Berlin (1927).

These are recordings that used the new electric recording techniques, an enormous advance on the old acoustic recordings. Excellent transfers and sound renovation by Ward Marston. The playing of the 52 year old Kreisler remains as genial and fascinating as ever, with his inimitable rubato, vibrato and varied bowing technique, not to mention his singing double stops. Of the 24 tracks on this CD, there is not even one I would rather hear played by another violinist. No one before or since has played Dvorak's well-known Humoresque better than Kreisler in this 1927 recording. There are two versions of Massenet's Méditation from Thaïs on this CD, both from 2^nd February 1928. I prefer the second take, since the phrasing is a little less stilted, to my ears. Kreisler and Heifetz completely dominated their epoque and still represent the gold standard by which all violinists are judged.

Bach and Phantasm. Beethoven and the Tetzlaff Quartett

The Consort of Viols died out after the middle of the 17^th century, and it is highly doubtful whether Johann Sebastian Bach ever heard one. I was fascinated and impressed listening to a new CD from the Consort called Phantasm where it plays arrangements of twenty preludes and fugues by Bach, plus occasional ricercars and other pieces. These arrangements underline several aspects of Bach's music: his extreme harmonic daring at times (a bit like Henry Purcell), the complexity of his musical textures, the fact that Bach translates and transcribes happily for pretty well any instrumental combination – including some he would never have imagined, like a consort of viols – and how Bach's music was often rooted in the world of the 17^th century rather than in the new 18^th century world heavily influenced by the Italians. I am not a fan of “olde worlde string playing”, but Phantasm's viols have a rich and highly mellow sound, quite unlike the rasp and squeal of “baroque” string players. These performances increase my already enormous admiration for Bach's music. Highly recommended for a new musical experience and for a real revelation of Bach's preludes and fugues.

Bach's music can adapt to pretty well any instrumental combination. Not so Beethoven's string quartets that are firmly embedded in two violins, one viola, and one cello. Eminent conductors as diverse as Furtwängler and Klemperer conducted the Grosse Fuga with string orchestras, and Toscanini conducted the sixteenth quartet with a string orchestra. But these attempts at “orchestrating” Beethoven's chamber music really did not work and are now merely historical curiosities (although I still have much admiration for Klemperer and the Philharmonia in the Grosse Fuga, a recording I have known since the mid- 1950s).

“What do I care about your miserable fiddle when the spirit speaks to me?” Beethoven is alleged to have asked Ignaz Schuppanzigh when the quartet leader expressed qualms about playing the Grosse Fuga. Benjamin Britten remarked, with prescience, that “that was where the rot set in” (composers thumbing their noses at performers and audiences). My initial great enthusiasm for Beethoven's music has somewhat waned over the decades; but my allegiance to the late string quartets has never wavered. This is truly great music. I seized with alacrity a new CD from the Tetzlaff Quartett that couples the A minor quartet opus 132 with the B flat quartet opus 130. The Tetzlaff players still favour somewhat extreme dynamics, but this is wonderful music with superb playing and recording (Ondine). Quite rightly, the Tetzlaffs omit Beethoven's get-you-home finale for opus 130 and end the work with the great fugue that so intimidated Schuppanzigh. The fugue is a perfect finale after the sublime Cavatina. With the Pavel Haas Quartet and the Tetzlaff Quartett, I am spoilt for choice when it comes to favourite contemporary string quartets.

Georg Friedrich Händel

Music for the time of the plague. On what music is there to fall back on? Luigi Dallopicalla? Karl-Heinz Stockhausen? Pierre Boulez? Arnold Schönberg? For me, it is above all a return to my traditional loves: Johann Sebastian Bach, and Georg Friedrich Händel. Contemporaries by birth and geography, but oh so different in their music. I have re-embarked on the cantatas of Bach, and on an 8-CD Glossa set of the music Handel wrote during his Italian stay in around 1707 when he was just 22 years old. What extraordinary powers of invention the young Handel had! Melody after melody, all with interesting and varied accompaniments; in those days, you either wrote music that your audience enjoyed, or you starved. There is also some brilliant writing for solo violin in many of the arias, presumably to show off the prowess of Arcangelo Corelli who often led the various bands at the time, notably in the cantata Il Delirio Amoroso.  Le Cantata per il Cardinal Pamphili features the highly esteemed voice of Roberta Invernizzi, with La Risonanza directed by Fabio Bonizzoni, an all-Italian caste as with all eight Glossa CDs of Handel's cantatas and duetti. The absence of angst and trauma in this music is a welcome antidote to the current world. Over 300 years since it was first written to entertain the various Italian cardinals and potentates, this music still has the power to enthral and raise spirits. Long live Georg Friedrich!

Good Friday and Anton Bruckner

Good Friday circa 1955-56 I headed out from the Rue Vavin in Paris where I was staying, crossed the Jardin de Luxembourg, and headed down the Boulevard Saint-Michel until I reached the Théâtre du Châtelet where the Colonne orchestra conducted by Carl Schuricht was playing Wagner's Good Friday music, and Bruckner's 7^th symphony. This was my first introduction to the music of Anton Bruckner, and he and I have remained firm friends ever since (as has my love of Wagner's music).

Edward Elgar's Piano Quintet

It is sad that so much really worthwhile music from the past is rarely, or never played. I recently rejoiced in my discovery of Jean-Philippe Rameau's music, but I suspect one could attend concerts for years on end even in highly musical countries such as Germany or France without encountering performances of Edward Elgar's Piano Quintet. I first encountered the work many years ago at a concert in Boxgrove Priory accompanied by three of my four sisters, and I immediately fell in love with it. Composed in 1918-19 after the devastation in Europe of the first world war, the quintet is suffused with an aching nostalgia for a world that had disappeared (Elgar's world, since he was in his early sixties when he composed it). I listened to it again today in a 2010 recording by Piers Lane and the Goldner String Quartet. Maybe the finale is not quite up to the standard of the first two movements but, then, finales rarely are. Elgar's piano quintet is a wonderful work from 100 years ago and it will always be on my “play it again” list.

Jean-Philippe Rameau and Vikingur Olafsson

When it came to keyboard works, Jean-Philippe Rameau (1663-1741) had some pretty distinguished semi-contemporaries including Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750) and Domenico Scarlatti (1685-1757). Bach is of course well known, and Scarlatti's sonatas are often played by prominent pianists. But Rameau has been pretty neglected and even I, after a lifetime of music, would have been hard put to think of even one piece by him that I knew.

No longer. Thanks to Vikingur Olafsson and a new CD just out, I can join the slender Rameau fan club. His keyboard music is memorable and quirky, far removed from the paint-by-numbers salon music that the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries often churned out. The pièces de clavecin excerpts in this selection are especially remarkable. Olafsson juxtaposes short pieces by Rameau with short pieces by Debussy, an excellent idea. Too many musicians just record and re-record the same old Moonlight sonatas and Liszt sonatas and I welcome the introduction to a variety of short pieces. Olafsson is an extraordinary pianist — a sensitive musician as well as a real virtuoso — and I already sense he is going to be my Artist of the Year even though it is not yet April.

Vilde Frang: Homage CD

One mark of an exceptional violinist is the ability to vary dynamics, sound and bowing according to what is being played, and where. I recall attending a recital many years ago in the Wigmore Hall in London to hear the excellent violinist Hilary Hahn play recital music, including Bach's sonatas and partitas (I forget which ones). She played superbly ... but it was all too bloody loud! She had been trained to play out with a big sound in a large hall, and in the small recital hall I longed for a remote control to turn the sound down a few notches. It was always commented that Yehudi Menuhin, even during his good periods, always played the same be it in Purcell or Bartok.

Spending a lot of time indoors at the moment because of cold winds and dangerous viruses, I am replaying sections of my CD collection. Today it was a CD with the title Homage recorded by Vilde Frang where she plays 17 different and well-known morceaux or vignettes for violin and piano; a real challenge to keep a listener's attention. Ms Frang succeeds; she is an excellent violinist, technically — viz her playing of Scriabin's étude in thirds arranged by Szigeti — but more importantly, she has a superb palette of colours, dynamics and approach. I am having something of a Vilde Frang season at home at the moment; still aged only 33, she is a violinist well worth listening to.

Food Shopping: March 2020

Shopping today was a bit like Russia in the 60s and 70s: you forgot about shopping lists, and just bought what you could. Banana section was a desert; taramasalata to be had nowhere. Plenty of bread in M&S Food, but "Count on Us" range of dishes had only one or two packets left on the entire shelf. Fish counter in Morrison's closed down, and Deli counter due to close shortly (I snatched up the last brawn I'll see for probably many months, and live mussels are now just a dream). I avoided my fellow-shoppers (nothing new there). Every time Russians went out during the 50s, 60s and 70s, it is said they used to carry "just in case" bags so they could snatch up whatever had just been put on display. A bit like Morrison's in March 2020. But I did manage to snatch up an M&S fish pie. Next week I'll clear the shelves of Waitrose crab pâté, and pork pie.

Benjamin Britten and Vilde Frang

Listening this evening was Benjamin Britten's violin concerto (1938-9). A work that was overlooked or dismissed for decades, but has recently — and deservedly — come into its own. A great pity Britten did not pursue that line of composition and produce more violin concertos, rather than dabbling around with works starring Peter Pears. Star violinist this evening was the wonderful Vilde Frang, one of those who has adopted the work; she recently apparently reduced many in the audience at the Barbican in London to tears with her performance with the LSO. On record this evening, I cannot imagine a better performance (Frankfurt Radio Symphony Orchestra conducted by James Gaffigan).

In Praise of Dmitri Shostakovich

A pipsqueak musical “expert” writing in the mainstream media once put forward his list of the Seven Greatest Composers. Why he chose just seven, and not six or nine, was not clear. However, he nominated Igor Stravinsky as “the greatest composer of the 20^th century”.

Nothing against old Igor, and he did write some splendid music, including the Firebird and Petrouchka. But “great” or “greatest”? For the record, I recognise much great music – particularly written during the 18^th and 19^th centuries, great meaning to me music that will probably be enjoyed and listened to for over 200 years. Again for the record, I don't think the 20^th century produced much, or any, “great” music. Sergei Rachmaninov maybe, but he was really more end-of 19^th than 20^th century. And maybe Dmitri Shostakovich whose tenth symphony I have just been listening to in a 2010 public performance by the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra conducted by Mariss Jansons. The tenth symphony is a major work, and justly popular. Jansons and the Bavarians bring out the angst and sheer terror recorded in the work (that Shostakovich did not dare reveal until after the death of Stalin). The recording quality here is excellent, but most listeners will need headphones because the dynamics in the terror passages become extremely loud.

Shostakovich wrote many, many major works amongst his 15 symphonies, 15 string quartets and much chamber music. His first violin concerto — another work unpublished until Stalin had died — is probably my favourite violin concerto. (The violin concertos by Beethoven and Brahms are almost certainly even greater, but after nearly 70 years of listening to them I have heard them a little too often). So was it Shostakovich rather than Stravinsky who was the “greatest” composer of the 20^th century? I repeat that I am far from sure that the 20^th century produced any “great” music, but in my view Shostakovich deserves recognition — a little belated in arriving — as the major composer of the last century.

The Violin, and Sueye Park

I re-listened with great admiration to the CD of Sueye Park playing Paganini's 24 caprices. Ms Park was only 17 at the time of this recording, I seem to remember, but she combines extraordinary technical ability with a thoughtful and musical approach to the works. The 24 caprices should not be an excuse for pure virtuoso showing off. Listening to the works, I am also full of admiration for what can be achieved on the four strings of one violin, and I am reminded that these are works that tend to shine with younger players – Tianwa Yang, and Michael Rabin spring to mind. Many violinists, like singers, tend to descend into Autumn after the age of around 50; pianists and conductors seem to go on for ever.

The violin with its four strings is a difficult instrument to play well. I took up the violin at the age of 11 or 12 (very late). In 1962 I acquired from a charity shop my current violin, labelled Mantegazza, Milan, 1792. Probably a fake, but the Mantegazza clan was prolific for over half a century, so maybe it was made by a junior Mantegazza in 1792. Anyway, it's my violin, not that at the age of nearly 80 I can play at all well. 80 is well past 50. Maybe I should take up conducting; a baton in the right hand is a lot less demanding than a violin bow.

Diana Damrau sings Richard Strauss

With a music-loving friend (in his 80s) we once started to listen to Richard Strauss's Vier letzte Lieder in a 2016 broadcast performance featuring Diana Damrau and a Bavarian orchestra conducted by Kirill Petrenko. After the first song, my friend said he'd had enough, since he couldn't stand Damrau's vibrato any more.

Diana Damrau has a lovely voice, and she is a wonderful musician, so I bought her latest CD since I like Strauss's songs, and the CD has around 20 Lieder, with the excellent Helmut Deutsch as pianist. The CD also contains the Four Last Songs, where the Bavarian Radio Orchestra is conducted by Mariss Jansons, with superb violin solos in Beim Schlafengehen, (and Morgen), from Anton Barakhovsky. All well and good, and a fine CD. But Damrau's wobbly vibrato does grate on the nerves, particularly in the many slower works on the disc. At times it almost induces seasickness. I certainly do not subscribe to the school of thought that says vibrato is a bad thing; but vibrato needs to be applied tastefully and judiciously. I suppose one cannot have it all, so the CD misses its third star.

Vasily Petrenko, and the Liverpool Philharmonic

Orchestral heydays come and go. In the past, orchestras such as the Berlin Philharmonic, Philadelphia Orchestra, Vienna Philharmonic, Leningrad Philharmonic, and the Philharmonia orchestras all achieved pinnacles of success (many of them are still truly excellent). Some conductors could inspire even second-rate orchestras to give wonderful performances (one thinks of Jascha Horenstein who was a wandering conductor of a great variety of orchestras in the 1950s, 60s and 70s). I have just been enjoying a CD of Russian works – Mussorgsky, Khachaturian, Kabelevsky, Shchedrin, Rachmaninov – conducted by the Russian Vasily Petrenko, still in his mid- 40s. Petrenko conducts the Liverpool Philharmonic which sounds, as so often under his baton, like an excellent Russian orchestra in this repertoire.

Confusingly, there are two Russian Petrenko conductors on the go at the moment (not related). Vasily Petrenko comes from St Petersburg and currently specialises in the music of Northern Europe (the Russians, Shostakovich, Tchaikovsky, and Elgar – whose music he conducts superbly). He has been found mainly with the Liverpool Philharmonic and the Oslo Philharmonic, though he takes up an appointment at the Royal Philharmonic in England next year. Kirill Petrenko was born in Omsk, though he emigrated at an early age to Austria and Germany and is to be found mainly in Munich, and now Berlin.

I enjoyed the 73 minutes of Petrenko's latest Russian recording that includes Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition as orchestrated by Ravel. After the Great Gate of Kiev we have a little over two minutes of an orchestration of Rachmaninov's Romance Op 21 No.7 - It's peaceful here, where the Liverpudlians almost sound like the old Leningrad Philharmonic. In his chosen repertoire, Vasily Petrenko is definitely one of my favourite conductors.

Vikingur Olafsson, and Johann Sebastian Bach

Right from my pre-teen years, I learned to revere the music of Johann Sebastian Bach, and to regard him as Number One in the league of composers. Over the past 70 years or so, heroes and heroines have come and gone; but Bach is still there in pole position. In an interesting sleeve note to a recent CD, the Icelandic pianist Vikingur Olafsson recounts his exposure to Bach's keyboard music via Edwin Fischer, Rosalyn Tureck, Dinu Lipatti, Glenn Gould, and Martha Argerich, pointing out that there are many valid ways of playing Bach's music. Within reason, anything works with Bach and the music comes through fresh and invigorating.

Olafsson's CD is somewhat unusual in consisting of a couple of dozen short works -- mainly preludes, fugues and inventions. Some of the pieces last for less than two minutes. The longest work is the Aria Varieta BWV 989. The whole hour or so gives a kaleidoscopic view of Bach's genius and endless powers of invention and I found it extremely impressive. Olafsson has a magnificent technique and this is used with gusto in many of the whirlwind pieces on the CD. This is music, and playing, I shall return to frequently. Olafsson is releasing a new CD featuring the keyboard music of Couperin and Debussy; an interesting juxtaposition. I'll buy it when it comes out since he seems to be an excellent and thoughtful musician as well as a superb pianist.

Beethoven's Sonatas for Violin and Piano

It turns out that I have no less than twelve sets of the complete sonatas for violin & piano by Beethoven. The ten sonatas do not feature among the very greatest of Beethoven's oeuvre, but they are by no means negligible and all deserve a regular hearing. The twelve violinists in my complete sets include Kreisler, Grumiaux, Capuçon, Dumay, Ibragimova, Suk, Barati, and Kavakos. I've never included Heifetz in my collection of the complete sonatas since the works rely mainly 60% on the pianist, and 40% on the violinist, much like most of the violin and piano sonatas of Mozart. Heifetz always preferred accompanists, never equal partners, let alone a dominant partner. Although recordings usually feature star violinists, they rarely feature star pianists. The classic Fritz Kreisler set from 1935 was originally intended to feature Rachmaninov as Kreisler's partner, but apparently EMI chickened out over the expense of two stars, and the highly competent Franz Rupp was engaged instead. That set is still well worth hearing. Arthur Grumiaux in 1956 was fortunate in having Clara Haskil as the pianist, and 64 years later this set is probably still the best all-round recommendation.

To listen to the sonatas again, I took down the recent (2009) set from Renaud Capuçon and Frank Braley. There is a lot to be said for it. Violin and piano are well balanced, and Braley proves to be an excellent partner in the all-important piano part. There is a transparency and delicacy about the playing that makes a welcome change from the often-heard Sturm und Drang. Capuçon and Braley are not really “star” names internationally, but these sonatas do not need stars so much as first-class instrumentalists who love the music and identify with Beethoven's musical language. Capuçon does not try to hog the limelight and gives way to Braley whenever necessary. I don't really need twelve sets. But I do need Kreisler, Grumiaux, Kavakos .... and Capuçon / Braley.

Ginette Neveu

Ginette Neveu was born in Paris in 1919 and was one of the 20^th century's very greatest violinists. She had a most unfortunate career. In 1935 she won fame and the Wieniawski Competition at the age of 15. Four years later, she was marooned in Paris by the second world war until 1945. Her career re-started in 1946; in October 1949 she died in a plane crash, aged just 30. Her playing is marked by a passionate conviction; she is one of the few 20^th century's great violinists whose voice can be recognised immediately.

She made few commercial recordings but, even given the turbulent and unfriendly times in which she lived, quite a few off-air and radio station recordings preserve her playing. I treasure her in Brahms – the violin concerto, and the third violin & piano sonata. Her 1949 off-air recording of the Beethoven violin concerto is one of the greatest. We can admire her playing in Suk, in Debussy, in Chausson, in Strauss, and in Ravel. Her recording in 1945 (already) of the Sibelius violin concerto remains essential listening for lovers of fine violin playing. Ever since my teenage years, I have been deeply moved by her recording of a C sharp minor nocturne by Chopin (arranged by Rodionov); the music just sweeps forward in beautifully phrased arches. The passion and conviction in her playing made her a natural for the Romantics; there is no record of her playing the music of Bach, Vivaldi or Mozart. The recordings that we have, are eternal classics. Busy weeding out my over-weight CD collection, Ginette Neveu will never be in the discard bag.

Oysters

Over the past forty years I must have eaten well over one thousand oysters, either with French friends at their homes, or in restaurants. But until yesterday I had never bought an oyster and carried it home to eat. I had an oyster-opening set (Laguiole) that I bought optimistically many years ago, but never an oyster. One of my local supermarkets  -- Morrison's --  introduced an Anglo-Irish oyster special offer (oysters are still pretty rare in English supermarkets). I bought a dozen and carried them home in triumph. They have now been opened and eaten. Delicious. No stopping me now (as long as I can find the oysters for sale).

Jiyoon Lee plays Ravel's Tzigane

Maurice Ravel's gypsy pastiche Tzigane was written in 1924 for the Hungarian violinist Jelly d'Aranyi (great niece of Joseph Joachim). I have 87 recordings of the piece and I no longer look forward to listening to it. It's a piece of music entirely at the mercy of the violinist. So this evening I was surprised, and delighted, to find myself enjoying it immensely as played on a new CD by the young Korean violinist Jiyoon Lee. Lee brings variety and intelligence to the music (as well as an impeccable technique) and I sat back and enjoyed every note. When it comes to admirable young violinists, the world today is completely swamped and I am forever thankful that I am not an aspiring young violin virtuoso.

George Enescu, Violinist

I re-listened to the few recordings that exist of the playing of George Enescu in his prime; the recordings date from 1929. He was born in 1881 (and died in 1955) so he was 48 years old when these recordings were made. There are later recordings from around 1950, but they were made in Enescu's old age when he was crippled with arthritis and badly in need of money. He thus belongs to the era of Sarasate, Ysaÿe, and Kreisler rather than to the great 20^th century violinists. Listening to Enescu is listening to violin playing of a by-gone age.

On an Opus Kura CD he plays Chausson's Poème (with piano), Corelli's La Folia, a Largo from a Pugnani sonata, Handel's Op 1 No.13 sonata, plus a 1950 recording of his third violin & piano sonata (private recording). A few Kreisler bits and pieces were also available on the defunct Biddulph label; Opus Kura just gives us Kreisler's Tempo di Menuetto. The Chausson is played as it should be; the Corelli is an object lesson in bowing technique; the Pugnani shows just how a Largo movement should be played. Throughout one marvels at Enescu's miraculous bowing technique, and at his crisp, fast trills. They don't play trills that good nowadays. One can only regret that Enescu was not too interested in recording, and that he was born a little too early to take full advantage of the recording medium. He could have recorded many pieces from 1926 to 1939; but he didn't. And the recording companies preferred his pupils such as Menuhin and Neveu. Our loss, but at least an hour or so of Enescu in his prime survives.

Ning Feng plays Bach

Back home from Asia, with the wind howling and the rain pouring, it is a good occasion to sit back and listen to old favourites. This evening it was Ning Feng (who better?) playing unaccompanied Bach. The music is wonderful, as is Ning Feng's playing. Technically he is immaculate, of course, but he also varies his bowing and dynamics to hold the interest and vary the sound. The chaconne of the second partita as presented here is a rare treat for lovers of Johann Sebastian Bach, chaconnes, and superb violin playing.

Ning Feng is now 38 years old and, presumably, at the height of his career. Formidable violinists proliferate at the moment; interesting violinists are rarer, and Mr Feng's violin playing is both subtle and interesting. I greatly enjoyed his Bach playing this evening, for the music, for the playing, and for the absence of “cult of personality” in the violin playing. Modern Bach at its best.

Mozart, Clara Haskil, and Asian Food

No quiet music listening recently, since life was occupied by a two-week trip to Asia: Luang Prabang, and Kuala Lumpur. On my return, I immediately turned to Mozart played by Clara Haskil; the two-piano concerto (with Geza Anda), the K 491 concerto, and the K 330 sonata. There is something about Mozart and Clara Haskil that is always completely and utterly satisfying. I have come to Mozart big time in my later life, and find his music eternally moving.

Also completely and utterly satisfying was the food in Laos and Kuala Lumpur. Asian food suits me down to the ground, especially the Chinese food (mainly shellfish, and fresh mangos) that I had in Kuala Lumpur with a good friend (who also gave me the Mozart-Haskil CD). If I could spend my life sitting beside the Mekong, eating Chinese food and listening to Clara Haskil playing Mozart, with a glass of whisky, I would be eternally and supremely happy.

Schubert's String Quintet D.956

1827 and 1828 were extraordinary years in Europe, and especially in Vienna. Beethoven died in 1827, leaving behind his last string quartets. Schubert died in 1828, leaving behind the recently finished song cycle die Winterreise D.911, the B flat piano sonata D.960, and the string quintet D.956. There are few more personal works in the whole of music, than these. Maybe Tchaikovsky's Pathétique symphony falls into the same highly personal category. Beethoven died at the age of 57, Schubert at the age of 32. If either had lived an extra 20 years, what would he have composed?

Schubert was born just one year before Mozart died; he died just one year after Beethoven's death. His music is eternal and will last for ever. If ever a piece of music speaks of what the Germans term, after Wagner's die Walküre: Todesverkündung (announcement of death), it is Schubert's string quintet, its two cellos giving added gravitas and a sombre ambiance. Listening to this, or to Beethoven's C sharp minor Op 131 or B flat string quartets Op 130 (with the Große Fuge for the latter) a Martian might conclude that Western music never again achieved such peaks and that the 100 years 1728-1828 with Bach, Handel, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert saw music's high tide. Martians often have a point.

I listened to Schubert's string quintet recorded during the 1960s by an ensemble led by Arthur Grumiaux (who else, in Schubert's music?) It has become a bit of a cliché that so many people have nominated this quintet as “music to die to” (especially the second movement that alternates resignation with frustrated anger). Schubert knew he was going to die soon, but he also knew that even greater music resided within him; what it was, we can only guess, alas for us. Grumiaux's name is almost a guarantee of success, in Schubert, at any rate. I grew up with the recording by Casals, Tortelier, Stern, Schneider and Katims; an all-star event, but a long way from Vienna in 1828. Many people have recorded the work, including the Hollywood Quartet, and a group led by Jascha Heifetz. But if you want Schubert, the whole Schubert and nothing but Schubert: Grumiaux's ensemble is high among best bets, right down to that final ominous chord at the end of the work that Schubert never heard before he died.

Rachmaninov's Danse Hongroise Op 6 No.2

As someone who enjoys violin playing, I have built up over the decades a considerable collection of recordings of short salon pieces. 39 different recordings of Tchaikovsky's Mélodie. 42 recordings of Kreisler's Liebesfreud: 16 recordings of Elgar's Salut d'Amour. Even 24 recordings of William Kroll's meretricious Banjo & Fiddle, a piece I heartily dislike. But in all my collection, I only have four – FOUR – recordings of Sergei Rachmaninov's Danse Hongroise (Op 6 No.2 of his Morceaux de Salon.) How on earth is this piece almost always overlooked in collections of short violin pieces? It is attractive music, lasting just under four minutes. The only four violinists in my collection to have recorded it are Akiko Suwanai, David Frühwirth, Sacha Sitkovetsky, and Ruggiero Ricci. Really odd how some pieces of music are so often overlooked. If I were several decades younger, I'd go out and buy the music and play it myself.

Akiko Suwanai

Since the early 1950s I have collected recordings of violinists and violin playing. I am now starting to shed much of my collection, since many performers simply do not age too well. One violinist whose recordings I will never delete, is Akiko Suwanai. She came second in the Queen Elizabeth in Brussels in 1989, and first in the Tchaikovsky in Moscow in 1990. In both competitions she played the Paganini D major concerto and the Moscow performance, in particular, is an amazing performance of true gold standard.

I have just been listening to a CD she recorded in Paris in 2016, with the pianist Enrico Pace (a present from a friend). The recording is excellent, with that difficult to achieve balance between piano and violin. The two works are the Franck sonata, plus the early Strauss sonata. Twenty six years on from Moscow, her playing has not diminished in the slightest; her performance of the Franck sonata, in particular, is suffused with a tender lyricism and the sonata sheds the beefiness from which it so often suffers. Throughout, Enrico Pace is an excellent partner.

She has had a relatively low profile career, but is well known to connoisseurs of violin playing. On record, she appears to specialise in the late romantic repertoire, with an impressive discography. Her recordings are always an excellent choice and I am particularly fond of her Dvorak Four Romantic Pieces (with Boris Berezovsky, 1998). She is notable for Czech music, also for Tchaikovsky, Brahms and Wieniawski. I heard her in person only once, giving an impressive performance of the Bartok violin concerto in Washington, with her hair flying in all directions. Akiko Suwanai is always on my automatic buy list.