Toscha Seidel

Alerted by the forthcoming auction of the “ex-Seidel” Stradivarius violin, I dug out some of my recordings of Toscha Seidel (1899-1962). A pupil of Leopold Auer in St Petersburg, and twinned early on with Jascha Heifetz, Seidel had a less than stellar career, and no international career that I know of, apart from a brief recital tour in Scandinavia as a teenager with Auer and Heifetz. Emigrating to America, and after New York, to Hollywood, Seidel's musical career became bogged down in the Hollywood morass of fame, money, and popular shows. Much like Erich Korngold (1897-1957), with whom Seidel recorded Korngold's Much Ado About Nothing suite in 1941. Hollywood was a death knell for serious classical musicians (though Heifetz managed to survive most of the tinsel). Possibly both Korngold and Seidel died early of broken hearts and thwarted ambitions, with a sense of immense gifts unfulfilled. As the French say: une vie ratée. Few recordings of Seidel's playing remain, and most of them from the period 1926-45, and most of them of short vignette pieces (in which, like Mischa Elman, he excelled). Mischa Elman, Jascha Heifetz, Toscha Seidel, Fritz Kreisler: they were violinists like no others, and they do not make violinists like them any more. More is the pity.

Put on a piece played by Seidel, and you are greeted with soaring lyricism, passionate involvement in the music, and sensuous string playing. The sound is enough to make you rush out and put in a bid for the forthcoming auction of the ex-Seidel Strad. The best of Seidel? He recorded few long works, and no concertos that I know of. Be that as it may: one listens to Seidel for the violin playing, not for musical perspicacity. Probably no one regrets that Seidel did not record the Mozart or Beethoven violin concertos. But the Wagner Albumblatt, and Provost's Intermezzo with the violin's soaring lyricism. Or Brahms Hungarian Dance No.1. Or Korngold's Much Ado suite (with Korngold at the piano). Or Chausson's Poème in 1945 with Leopold Stokowski. I know of no Seidel recordings after 1945, which is a big black mark for the American recording industry, and a big source of regret for lovers of wonderful violin playing. It is said that his favourite work in his repertoire was the Brahms violin concerto but, alas any recordings of his playing the concerto have long been erased by the American commercial radio companies for whom he performed for, probably, substantial fees.

I treasure my small collection of 5-6 CD transfers of Toscha Seidel's meagre recorded legacy. I listen to the pieces when I wish to be reminded of just what a violin can do. And just how a great violinist can bring music to life, even short pieces of music. As I said: they don't make them like that any more.

Akiko Suwanai Magnificent in Bach

It never rains but it pours. I had just finished listening to and absorbing Leonidas Kavakos in the six sonatas and partitas for solo violin by Bach, when along came another set via a download from a very good friend. I had some irritants with Kavakos's Bach; not with his violin playing but with the way he messed around with phrasing and rhythm and added some completely superfluous ornamentation. The new set in my player comes from Akiko Suwanai and it is extremely good. Akiko, too, is a top class violinist, but she is also a serious and intelligent musician.

Akiko Suwanai sprang to fame when she came first in the Tchaikovsky Competition in Moscow in 1990 at the age of 18. Her performance there of Paganini's D major concerto brought thunderous applause from the audience (and from me, listening to a CD of the concert). She has always been an extremely intelligent musician. I have only heard her once in concert and that was in Washington a couple of decades ago. Very impressive in the Bartok violin concerto, with her long hair flying in all directions as she played. I have been an Akiko fan for many, many years and have a good number of recordings of her playing; none of them duds. She keeps a pretty low profile and appears to be a very private person. Would there were more like her.

My Beckmesser slate is completely unmarked, even after 31 movements of the sei solo. Quite an achievement in these over-familiar works. The andante of the second sonata is played as sweetly and effortlessly as Heifetz in his recording, and Akiko's bowing dexterity in the final allegro is a joy to listen to. The ciaccona of the second partita is an object lesson in skill in bowing and dynamics. At 50 years old, Akiko has lost none of her technical flair. The largo of the third sonata – like all the slower movements in this set – is played with real skill and affection, and the following allegro assai really is assai; the girl must have a magic bow, and probably even Heifetz's jaw would have dropped.

The sound is excellent, and her del Gesù violin has a recorded warmth that I missed in the Kavakos set. Akiko was recorded in a Dutch church in July of 2021; considering that by the time I listened to the set the tracks had been compressed to FLAC, sent over the Net, decompressed by me and then written to CD, I have no niggles whatsoever. Modern technology can be impressive, at times (unlike modern politicians). Is this set the best of the bunch? Unlikely, given the varied competition. But asked to nominate just one set of the sei solo to take to my desert island, it would probably be this set from Akiko Suwanai. Bravo. Even after over 30 years since the Moscow competition, she is technically superb but, more importantly and rarer, an intelligent and sensitive musician.

Leonidas Kavakos Part II: Bach

Looking at my shelves for complete recordings of Bach's six sonatas and partitas for solo violin, I find: Kristof Barati, 2009. George Enescu, 1948. Isabelle Faust, 2011. Ning Feng, 2016. Gregory Fulkerson, 2007. Arthur Grumiaux, 1960. Augustin Hadelich, 2020. Jascha Heifetz, 1952. Alina Ibragimova, 2008. Leonidas Kavakos, 2020. Nathan Milstein, 1973. Leila Schayegh, 2020. Oscar Shumsky, 1978. Lara St. John, 2007. Josef Suk, 1970. Christian Tetzlaff, 1993. Antje Weithaas, 2012-17. And that is just those I have who have recorded all six; there are many others who have recorded individual sonatas or partitas. Competition is ferocious.

My latest addition to the line-up of the previous 16 is that of Leonidas Kavakos recorded in 2020. In his written introductory words to Bach's works, Kavakos writes: “The rise of the soul to its purification harmony's rhythm and rhythm's harmony are decisive assistants to each incarnation's personal journey towards achieving catharsis through the experience of life, and thus opening the gate to theosis, the divine aspect of existence.” Whatever that may mean. Fortunately, once Kavakos puts down his pen and picks up his violin bow, we can return to reality.

Kavakos's phasing and articulation sometimes tend towards the interventionist and can to appear to be over-fussy, particularly noticeable in the slower movements of these works; I'm not sure I always like it, but it certainly makes for a more interesting interpretations than much of the smooth, bland playing we often find with other violinists. His choppiness occasionally brings on fear of seasickness, as in the opening Allemanda of the first partita. There has to be an ideal line somewhere between choppiness and complete calm. Kavakos occasionally adds some twiddling ornamentation of his own, notably in the first partita; I don't mind most times, and I'm sure Bach would not either. But I've never noticed it before in the other recordings of the six works. The ciaccona of the second suite comes off really well, though I prefer the ending to be played quietly and peacefully which it is not here, and Kavakos adds some – to my mind – quite unnecessary ornamentation to the final bars. Like the Goldberg Variations, where the theme is restated quietly and simply at the end, so should it be with the ciaccona, I feel. Kavakos is excellent in the three fugues, voicing the parts clearly and expertly. In my days of playing these works, I always left the fugues strictly alone

The recorded sound is OK but would have benefited from a little more air around it; a violin – even a Strad as here -- playing forte up close can become a little strident at times. An excellent set of the sei solo, then, with some wonderful and interesting violin playing. With such ferocious competition, including luminaries such as Heifetz, Milstein and Grumiaux, there can be no “capo di tutti i capi”. Kavakos is well up there with the leaders, but I have minor quibbles to make me hesitate to nominate him as my top choice. His occasional unnecessary ornamentation and fussy phrasing often make me grimace, particularly during some of the slower of the 31 movements that make up the sei solo. Recently, Antje Weithaas pleased me greatly in the complete set (though she also is often an interventionist and a bit fussy). Coming from nowhere, the dark horse Leila Schayegh also gave me a lot of pleasure recently. Spoilt for choice. One day I'll have to record the works myself. Minus the fugues.

Leonidas Kavakos Part I

There are superb violinists who have rarely been labelled as “stars”. One thinks of Josef Szigeti, Josef Suk, Wolfgang Schneiderhan … and Leonidas Kavakos. I have been an admirer of Kavakos for over two decades now. Unlike some musicians, he keeps a relatively low profile and just gets on with superb violin playing. A CD from 2000 devoted to the music and arrangements by Fritz Kreisler reminds us that Kavakos studied for a time with Joseph Gingold; he obviously learned a lot about playing Kreisler from Gingold. Absence of vulgar bravura; excellent sense of rhythm; highly varied dynamics; highly varied bow strokes. Playing 18 short pieces one after another and holding a listener's attention, is a major challenge, but Kavakos brings it off with his Kreisler CD.

15 years later brings us another Kavakos CD, this time with 15 short pieces embracing a number of virtuoso challenges from Sarasate, Tarrega, Paganini and Wieniawski. The CD includes what appears from my off-air recordings of Kavakos concerts, to be one of his favourite encores: Tarrega's Recuerdos de la Albambra, transcribed by the maverick American violinist Ruggiero Ricci. Even after all these years, I cannot work out how one violin can possibly play the piece. The recital includes Benjamin Britten's curious Reveille, labelled as a concert study for violin and piano. The only other person I can find in my collection who has also recorded it is someone called Magdalena Filipczak; whoever she may be. Kavakos's renditions here of Tchaikovsky's Valse-Sentimanale and of Dvorak's over-familiar Humoresque (arranged by Kreisler) are among the very best to be had. As usual, I skipped Paganini's Variations on God Save the King, since I am not fond of Paganini in his circus mode. Kavakos reveals himself to be a top-class virtuoso throughout the 78 minutes of this CD devoted to virtuoso violin music. But he remains a violinist and musician who never crosses the line into being a showman or entertainer. Unlike some of his rivals.

Part II of this write-up on Leonidas Kavakos will follow once I have digested his new recording of the six solo sonatas and partitas by Bach that arrived today. Rare these days that I add to my over-large collection of CDs with a new one; but I made an exception for Kavakos. The 21^st century has featured many really top-class violinists, and Kavakos, along with Lisa Batisahvili and Alina Ibragimova, is at the top with a select few.