It has been a while since I last enjoyed the music of Camille Saint-Saëns ("the greatest composer who wasn't a genius", someone said). But this evening I basked in his fourth piano concerto in a pretty definitive 1939 performance by Robert Casadesus, Pierre Monteux and the Concertgebouworkest. Super work, and inspired playing.
For dessert: Back to Bach (the cantatas BWV 18 -- Gleichwie der Regen und Schnee vom Himmel fällt -- and BWV 106 -- Gottes Zeit ist die allerbeste Zeit). The performances by the Ricercar Consort under Philippe Pierlot are near-ideal, to my mind. BWV 18 has the viola part that I used to practice so assiduously! Coming back to Bach after my recent diet of Handel and Vivaldi, I notice the sheer density of the music; everything is polyphony (but also, of course, highly melodic).

When my father (born Short Street, Horwich, 1903) was in his last weeks, he asked for a music player in his room and listened over and over again to ... Der Rosenkavalier, Richard Strauss. After three hours of baroque high-voice vocal music this evening, I suspect that one day -- far, far in the future -- I would wish to die to the vocal music of Bach, Purcell, Handel or Vivaldi. This evening was Simone Kermes in Handel (as already recounted) followed by Kermes in Vivaldi (Amor Sacro, and Amor Profano). Definitely music to die to.

A week's pause. Now back to cockles, squid, an incredible livarot ... and Handel sung by Simone Kermes and Maïte Beaumont (excerpts from Amadigi, Rinaldo and Alcina). Great food, and great music. When you put Handel and Vivaldi side by side, the Saxon wins every time.

Lise de la Salle is my kind of pianist: objective, technically adroit, with an admirable balance between left and right hands and a total adsorption in what she is playing. A Norman equivalent to Leif Ove Andsnes, another pianist I admire greatly. I listened to de la Salle this evening in Shostakovich (first concerto), Liszt (first concerto) and Prokofiev (first concerto). Re-discovered yet again that Liszt does absolutely nothing for me whatsoever; 50 years of perseverance have taken me no nearer to liking the man nor his E flat piano concerto.
Next week I'll be passing through Cherbourg, de la Salle's home town, and I'll think of her fondly. I look forward to her next ten CDs; it would be good to hear her in person some time.

Good weekend for important discoveries. Simone Kermes has already been mentioned, but her voice really is addictive. The other discovery was the cellist, Jamie Walton in the Elgar and Myaskovsky cello concertos (a very sensible coupling). As I have mentioned before, I am not very partial to cellists; but you would never know Jamie Walton was playing a cello! It sounds like a big viola. His performance of the Elgar is very fine indeed and brings out to the full the pessimism that permeats the work, without underlining it and wallowing in it as I find Jacqueline du Pré did. If Simone Kermes is the Heifetz of the baroque sopranos, then Jamie Walton is the Heifetz of the cello; a truly remarkable sound and technique. The recording quality in the Elgar and Myaskovsky is excellent, and the Philharmonia plays well.

The weekend Thai soup was well up to standard and would probably have won a silver medal in a Bangkok Tom Yum contest. If I could only find fresh galangal, I might even win the gold medal! Have to re-try galangal's cousin, fresh root ginger. And I also discovered bocconcini con prosciutto; quite delicious, but very expensive from Quayle's.

Worked at this weekend's Thai shellfish soup; preparation took 75 minutes today (mainly because of the quantity of smallish squid). We shall see what it turns out like tomorrow evening when I start eating it, but my heart was set on Thai soup this weekend.

In music, as in food, it's usually best to follow one's instincts. My musical instincts this evening demanded the Schubert B flat major sonata D 960 (played by Leif Ove Andsnes) and, yet again, the second Rachmaninov symphony conducted by Mikhail Pletnev. This time, though, I did toy with the Previn, Fischer and Litton versions; a glance at their timings, however, (slower) sent me back to Pletnev. Rachmaninov must not drag, and this is true of all the post Romantics. It is highly instructive listening to Rachmaninov and to Elgar in their own music; very pre- Herbert von Karajan.

A bit ridiculous listening yet again to two old faithfuls given the number of "awaiting listening" CDs in my pile (with two new CDs due for delivery tomorrow). But if that is what one's body demands at the time ...

Three Russian violin concertos, courtesy of Daniel in Brussels. Rakov first concerto. Kabalevsky Op 48 concerto. Shebalin Op 21 concerto. None of the three made any real impression on me. The 1995 performances by Andrew Hardy were unremarkable, with an "all-occasions" vibrato; no wonder I had never heard of Mr Hardy before, nor since. Not the musical find of the decade. The Russians during the Soviet regime produced some remarkable violin concerti -- Prokofiev (x2) and Shostakovitch (x1), plus Khachaturian, Myaskovsky and Taktakishvili. But not, alas, the three conceri on this Oympia CD.

Black, black, black Saturday. Fittingly, it ended with Rachmaninov's second symphony, and then Tchaikovsky's sixth. For black days, Russian music. Both works conducted, of course, by Mikhail Pletnev with the Russian National Symphony Orchestra. I really could throw away all competing versions.

Beethoven is not normally one of my preferred composers. But I will always make an exception for his late string quartets; timeless classics that are part of the Bible of the highest ranges of music. Especially, one might think, when played by the Busch Quartet. Listening this evening to the E flat quartet (Op 127) one marvels yet again about how right Busch was in this music. Other quartets may be more brilliant, more virtuoso and with better recorded sound. But Busch is right; he appears to have an uncanny knack of always finding the right tempo. Busch seems to start by identifying the pulse of the music, then fixing the tempo, then the dynamics, in a way that you never have any doubts or questionings as to whether things could be done differently. This pulse and tempo sense holds through to his Schubert playing (the quartets, and the fantasia) and also his performances of the Beethoven and Brahms violin concertos. Finally, in his quartet playing there is absolutely no cult of personality; the four members play as they should, weaving in and out of each others' space. Quite and completely admirable.

A Medici Arts reissue of Michael Rabin warhorses prompts a short reappraisal of this meteorite of the 1950s. In the first Paganini concerto, his 1960 recording (with Goossens and the Philharmonia) is still one of the very top – though his original 1954 recording is perhaps fresher. And in both versions it really is a pity about the cuts and truncations; during the same period, both Menuhin and Kogan were showing that the uncut concerto works better. In the second Wieniawski concerto one can admire his violin playing, whilst pining for the characterisation that Heifetz and Elman brought to this piece; a great pity the Medici Arts people didn't choose Rabin's 1957 recording of the first Wieniawski concerto, where he is seen at his considerable best, and with little recorded competition. The refurbished sound of the 1960 Abbey Road recordings here is excellent (though it was not bad to begin with).

The 1959 "Hollywood" recordings (with Felix Slatkin and the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra) illustrate something of the Rabin tragedy. Recordings in which the soloist is over spotlit, poorly balanced and with "virtuoso" violin playing taking precedence over the music. The sound in these pieces is maybe actually worse here than in the Capitol originals. One admires the fluency, the ease – and the trills! – in Rabin's playing of Saint-Saëns' Introduction & Rondo Capriccioso, Sarasate's Zigeunerweisen, Dinicu's Hora Staccato, and Paganini's Moto Perpetuo. Technically he is superb, but the music doesn't come from within and we end up admiring the astonishing violin playing rather than the musical feeling.

As the 1967 Chicago recording of the Brahms concerto revealed all-too fleetingly, Rabin was capable of real musical intuition once away from the Hollywood circus. His life really was a tragedy and a condemnation of our culture's propensity to prefer instant exploitation to long-term growth and pleasure.

A very enjoyable CD of viola concertos by Hoffmeister, Hummel, Joseph Schubert and Weber makes me growl anew at the stereotyping of repertoire. Viola players are supposed to limit themselves to the Mozart Sinfonia Concertante, plus Berlioz's Harold in Italy. But the 58 minutes of playing by Gérard Caussé (with the Soloistes de Montpellier-Moscou) is really delightful. The 20+ minute concerto by Joseph Schubert (1757-1837) is much better than anything written by Franz Schubert when he was very young. CD courtesy of Lee.

Rounded off the evening with mélodies (Chausson) and Lieder (Strauss) sung beautifully by Sandrine Piau. She really does have a lovely voice.

Ilya Gringolts is quite something in his traversal of the music of Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst – including all six of the Sechs mehrstimmige Etüden. Maybe a bit a short on charm, but no shortage of technique. Ernst's music can be a bit embarrassing in the hands of anyone who is not completely top-notch. But Gringolts copes supremely well.

Darius Milhaud was a contemporary of Dmitri Shostakovich, and also shared a superficially similar musical idiom But Arabella Steinbacher's immaculate survey of his violin and orchestra music (including the two concertos) shows that Milhaud was mainly froth and lacked the inner iron core of his Russian contemporary. Attractive froth it may be, but not music of substance, despite the best endeavours of the talented Ms Steinbacher.

Bravo Marina Chiche, with Vahan Mardirossian at the piano. The duo played all eleven movements of the three Brahms violin & piano sonatas (plus the F.A.E. scherzo) without rousing my ire or my eyebrows once. Good, passionate, committed performances by two young artists (Marseille for her, Armenia for him). Often these young performers give more pleasure than "big name" performances, particularly when it comes to balance and true duo playing. A nice CD, though my collection is a bit saturated with Brahms violin & piano sonatas; those who select repertoire are so lemming-like in their choices.

A big standing ovation for Lara St John, having just finished listening to the second CD of her complete sonatas and partitas for solo violin (AR 132, 2007). The liner notes are long, learned and exemplary. The recording is exactly how such things should be: naturally reverberant, not too close.
Technically, the violin playing is extraordinary; Lara can play faster than most, more accurately than most, louder than most, softer than most. A dazzling display of violin bow strokes, tempi, dynamics and finger dexterity. Every movement on the two CDs comes up sounding fresh. What shines through all of this, however, is Lara's love of, and feeling for, the music. The approach is not classical; it's not HIP. It's just right.
I won't throw away my complete sets of Heifetz, Martzy, Milstein, Kuijken, Fischer, et al. But I know that any time from now on I want to hear the Bach unaccompanied pieces ... I'll reach for Lara St John. Nice to hear music played by a master player who obviously loves what she is playing.
Anything negative to counter all this gush? I have no idea why this exemplary production is festooned throughout with Lara in model-like poses (around five different dresses). Having seen her, we all know she's no oil painting. So why the harping on the desirable female angle? The playing is more than enough to stand by itself.

Listened to the 2nd, 4th and 7th concertos of Charles-Auguste de Bériot and was strangely impressed with the music. Much of the 19th century concerto output is musical vapourware, but Bériot obviously had a stronger composing streak than, say, Godard, Ernst or Hubay -- or the concertos of Paganini, come to that. Not bad pieces at all.

That said; like all second or third rate music, it needs love, care and attention such as conductors like Beecham or violinists such as Heifetz, Elman, Kreisler or Rabin used to lavish lovingly on minor works. With the best will in the world, Laurent Albrecht Breuninger (violin) with the Nordwestdeutsche Philharmonie under Frank Beermann are not in the Heifetz-Beecham class. And the recording is "acceptable" rather than demonstration class.

The music is played professionally and accurately. Who could do it properly amongst today's plethora of efficient whizz-kids? Perhaps Janine Jansen, Sarah Chang, Hilary Hahn or Lisa Batiashvili -- or even Maxim Vengerov. But some hope; we are lucky to have Breuninger and his helpers so at least we can hear the notes played accurately and in the proper order .. while waiting for these three concertos played by Heifetz, conducted by Beecham.

Found a kilo of fresh langoustines today. I suspect I have overcooked them, again. I must develop a better langoustine cooking calcuation method.

Tchaikovsky's sixth symphony never, ever fails to please me (if I'm in the right mood). No other symphony has such unity of emotion (gloom) nor such an incredible balance between its four movements -- there is not one movement of the Pathétique one can skip over. Far better, to my mind, than any symphony by Gustav Mahler or Robert Schumann. And Brahms? Well I'll take the Pathétique with me any day.
One of these days I must listen to one of the other excellent versions I have: Toscanini, Furtwängler, Cantelli ... But I always stick on the recording of Mikhail Pletnev and the Russian National Orchestra. Quite good enough for me.
The day also featured an excellent leg of young New Zealand lamb, perfectly cooked, for a change. Happy to bed.

Downloaded and listened to Berl Senofsky playing the Brahms violin concerto (1956). A very fine performance, with an especially lyrical slow movement and a fiery finale; for a (pleasant) change, the first movement cadenza was not the usual Joachim one. There are so many cadenzas for the Brahms and Beethoven concertos that it is a pity when performers are so conservative (although I do remember one critic complaining about someone in the Beethoven concerto that "it is a shame he did not play the usual Kreisler cadenza").
Now that recordings are appearing from a plethora of different sources, we are beginning to see that great players who did not, or would not, make the sacrifices involved in becoming media and recording stars were very numerous. Just in Senofsky's generation in America, for example there were Senofsky, David Nadien, Oscar Shumsky and Joseph Gingold -- all first rate violinists who eschewed international careers. Of course, this was compounded for those in America by the fact that the USA during those years only had two main recording companies, RCA and CBS. Both were conservative. RCA had Heifetz as its "house violinist" and did not see any need to dilute its market by recording artists such as Elman and Seidel. And CBS had Isaac Stern, God help them. Europeans were luckier, and companies such as EMI happily recorded Gioconda de Vito, Johanna Martzy, David Oistrakh, Leonid Kogan, Christian Ferras ... all in competition with each other. Much more enlightened.

Gastric flu over after 48 bad hours (mainly in bed) I could this evening tuck into my classic Thai Soup (with mussels, squid and scallops). I now seem to have this off to a fine art, and this evening's edition was well up to standard. More for tomorrow! Thank goodness I can now count on a ready supply of Tom Yum paste; even the new Malmesbury shop sells it.
And Schubert seems to have become one of my very small collection of personal composers (along with Handel and Bach). The two-CD set of his late piano sonatas played by Leif Ove Andsnes is the kind of music and performance I'll always keep near to me. With Andsnes you find yourself listening enraptured to ... Schubert. And you never, ever feel you might like the music played a little more quickly, or slowly, or loudly, or softly. Thai Soup and Schubert! A good evening after the bad weekend.