Tchaikovsky's Pathétique Symphony

Over the decades, a music lover will build up a “core” repertoire: works that are somehow special to him or to her, often without rhyme or reason or attempt to define “greatest” or “great”. Among many, two symphonies that have ended up firmly in my core repertoire are Sibelius's sixth symphony, and Tchaikovsky's sixth -- the Pathétique.

I first met the Pathétique long, long ago conducted by Toscanini, of all people. Followed by Cantelli and Furtwängler, then Evgeny Mravinsky, then Mikhail Pletnev. And I have now ended, happily, with Valery Gergiev and the Kirov Orchestra. Nothing quite equals Russians plunging wholeheartedly into Tchaikovsky. To me, the Pathétique is a marvellous work, full of contrasts, colour, supreme orchestration, heart-rending melodies, and gut-wrenching full-blooded emotions. Nothing quite like it! I wallow in it, with the greatest of pleasure, as I did this evening. With the volume turned well up (and the headphones firmly in place). No need, I suspect for further recorded versions; Gergiev and the Kirov Orchestra are just fine for me.

Marc-André Hamelin

I've always had an on-off relationship with pianist composers such as Chopin, Schumann, Liszt, Alkan and Scriabin. Not that I am ever anti-piano, but I do prefer the more human and personal sounds of string instruments. I can, however, be bowled over by really first class piano performances such as Gieseking in Debussy, Cortot in Chopin or Edwin Fischer in Bach, where superb musicianship and love of the music shines through. This weekend I was greatly impressed with an all-piano record played by Marc-André Hamelin on which he plays Janacek's On the Overgrown Path, plus Schumann's Waldszenen and Kinderszenen. Technically, the music sounds pretty simple and straightforward and is mainly far from being virtuoso stuff. But Hamelin's playing is entrancing; I never knew pianos could play so softly. I don't know the Schumann pieces very well (and the Janacek not at all, until now) so I cannot judge whether my impression that Hamelin plays some of the slower pieces too slowly is correct, or not. Anyway, a remarkable CD from a remarkable pianist; it is amazing just how many superb violinists and pianists come out of Canada, a country with a total population of only around 35 million people.

A Good Weekend

Rather a good weekend, with Handel arias (Sandrine Piau) and mixed songs and lieder (same singer), plus Sarasate, plus Diana Damrau singing songs and lieder, all rounded off with Bernard Haitink conducting Bruckner (a magnificent 9th Symphony with the LSO). I love Sandrine Piau's voice; it is mellow and well-rounded, with none of the over-brightness or tendency to hardness that one finds in some sopranos. Food was veal escalope, asparagus, smelly French cheeses, apricot purée, fresh fruit salad (mainly peaches), lamb Rogan Josh, avocado pear, excellent 2010 Saint-Emilion wine. All together, not a bad weekend musically or gastronomically.

Smetana Trio and Shostakovich

There is a long list of first class French composers, from the nineteenth century onwards: Berlioz. Bizet. Saint-Saëns. Fauré. Ravel. Debussy. Franck (by adoption). Duparc. Chausson. The question is sometimes asked: “Who is the greatest French composer?” The answer, I suppose, is there really isn't one, in the sense of Bach, Handel, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Brahms, Wagner, and so on. Listening this evening to Ravel's well-known and well-written Piano Trio in A minor, I chafed a little at so much compositional skill being applied to something that was, well, just extremely well-written. It reminded me a bit of the music of William Walton; very clever, but somehow divorced from human emotions. Moving on after a pause to Shostakovitch's Piano Trio No.2 in E minor, we enter an entirely different world, a world where the music speaks to us. We don't admire Shostakovitch's piano trio. We feel the emotions behind the music, and we live the music.

Superb executants of both trios (and including Shostakovitch's early first trio) was the Smetana Trio, recorded in Prague by entirely admirable Czech recording engineers at Supraphon. Piano trios are difficult to balance. But if you want to record a piano trio; go to Prague. And for a really great piano trio: Shostakovitch's E minor trio should be near the top of your list.

The Busch Quartet and the late Beethoven Quartets: Pristine Audio

Pristine Audio (Andrew Rose) has brought out a 3-CD set of most of the late Beethoven string quartets (nos. 12, 13, 14, 15 and 16) along with the first Rasumovsky, number 7; played by the Busch String Quartet. I've had these recordings for over 30 years, originally on LP, then on CD. The GROC transfers from EMI were not bad, but Andrew Rose's are better, with more “air” around the slightly warmer sound. It is excellent to have these really great performances from the 1930s (with a couple of early 1940s) in the best possible transfers. The Busch late Beethoven quartet performances are legendary, with an intensity that is especially noticeable in the slow movements (for example, the long 17 minute adagio of the E flat quartet, Op 127). The refurbished sound on these transfers is so good, and the performances so authoritative that I have to wonder why I keep shelves full of alternative versions; when it comes to the late Beethoven quartets, why would I listen to anyone other than the Busch? The transfers from the European recordings of the earlier 1930s sound better than the two transfers from the American recordings of the earlier 1940s, for some reason. And, oh, why did the Busch Quartet never record the Grosse Fuge!

For me, the late Beethoven quartets occupy the very pinnacle of classical music (along with some of Bach's major works). I cannot imagine better performances of this great music. Now on to Busch's Bach, Mr Rose! The Brandenburg concertos, in particular, have a joy in music making that communicates itself over the 80 years or so since the recordings were made. Unfashionable Busch's Bach may be at the present time; but it is still great, and thoroughly enjoyable.

Magdalena Kozena / Deirdre Moynihan

It is not too often I buy compilation CDs (as opposed to recitals). However, as a long-term admirer of Magdalena Kozena I bought a two-CD set of her singing various music from Monteverdi to Ravel, via Czech folk songs. As befits this singer, everything is superb (though I wince a bit a some her singing in French). Over two hours of enjoyment.

When I was in my teens, Schubert's piano and string quartet music had been re-discovered. Mahler and Bruckner were emerging from oblivion. Handel was still considered mainly as the composer of The Messiah, Water Music, Fireworks Music and “Handel's Largo” (as if he only wrote one piece of music with that tempo indication). Antonio Vivaldi was an Italian who wrote The Four Seasons; and that was pretty much all. Vivaldi is now re-emerging as a composer of operas and cantatas, so I snapped up a new Naxos CD where, for 55 minutes, Deirdre Moynihan sings four highly interesting Vivaldi cantatas, with backing provided by the Ensemble Nota Velata (two violins, viola, cello, harpsichord).

The music is three star, but I really cannot take Ms Moynihan as recorded here. Her voice is bright, and recorded near the microphone where she sings at a relentless mezzo-forte. There is no “space” around the voice as recorded here, and after a few minutes it really gets on my nerves. The Ensemble Nota Velata has been warned that, to sound “authentic”, the strings have to eschew all vibrato, so they produce a dry, acidic backing. Senza vibrato may well have been how people played in those far-off days, but there is no need to avert one's gaze from advances in instrumental sound and technique that have occurred since. Violins played senza vibrato simply do not sound as attractive as violin playing warmed by a little vibrato. And if one wants to be historically correct, there was no question back in 1720 or whenever, of recording a concert and then playing it back twenty years or so later in one's own living room. We have, thank goodness, seen off “authentic” boy trebles as substitutes for sopranos. We have seen off sopranos singing with a “white”, vibrato-less sound. We have seen off harpsichords or forte-pianos thunking away at all keyboard music prior to around 1830. Hopefully, soon, the wind of fashion will change again and the acid baroque violin sound will be confined to the corridors of institutes of historical performance studies. On this Vivalidi CD, the band sounds like an econo-band beloved of music financial controllers (the same people who love eight part choruses sung “authentically” by four soloists). Agreed that Vivaldi did not envisage the Vienna Philharmonic as instrumental players for his cantatas. But give me any day something like the Venice Baroque Orchestra that accompanies Magdalena Kozena in many of the eighteenth century pieces in her compilation.

Volker Reinhold plays Sarasate

A commenter on this blog mentioned a Sarasate recital CD by Volker Reinhold, accompanied by Ralph Zedler. Since the CD contains 74 minutes of music comprising six opera fantasies by Sarasate, I snapped up the CD. Herr Reinhold appears to be 50 years old, lives and works in north-east Germany, and has a love of playing the music of Kreisler and Sarasate. This is apparently his début CD (Dabringhaus & Grimm).

A pleasant surprise from this totally unknown violinist (unknown to me, that is). He plays with taste, accuracy and obvious enjoyment. He is well accompanied, well recorded and balanced. The music is highly enjoyable. How does he compare with Tianwa Yang, who up until now has been “Miss Sarasate” and has also recorded all six pieces on the Reinhold CD? Well, Miss Yang has a little more nonchalance, where needed, and a little more joie de vivre, where needed. Compared with her, Herr Reinhold can sometimes sound a little solemn and straight-laced. But this is quibbling a bit, since the Dabringhaus CD has given me a great deal of pleasure. Pablo de Sarasate is holding his own in the affections of violinists and listeners after 130 years or so. And Herr Reinhold proves you do not need to have a big name and powerful PR backing to be a superb violinist and well worth listening to.

Tianwa Yang plays Eugène Ysaÿe

It has always seemed to me that Yehudi Menuhin endorsed each new violinist presented to him as “the most wonderful I have ever heard”. So, I am conscious, I do with each and every new recording of Eugène Ysaÿe's much recorded six sonatas for solo violin. Only recently I was enthusing over complete sets from Kristof Barati and from Tai Murray. Today I am enthusing over a brand-new complete set from Tianwa Yang, the phenomenal Chinese violinist. Miss Yang transitions well from Sarasate (her recent 10-hour traversal) to Eugène Ysaÿe. Replying to a critic of Jascha Heifetz's speed in a certain work, Leopold Auer is said to have retorted: “Ah, yes. But you listened to every note, did you not?” When Tianwa Yang plays Ysaÿe, I listen to every note, since there is so much variety in the sound coming from her 1729 Petrus Guarneri violin. It reminds you just how great a range of colour a violin can come up with, in the right hands.

Nemanja Radulovic

Even now, after 200 years, much of the music of Niccolò Paganini is tough going, technically. Most top class violinists can play the notes accurately, but there are still visible challenges, like the melody in double stops in the finale of the first concerto, played in harmonics. I seem to have amassed 45 recordings of Paganini's first concerto, going alphabetically from Vasco Abadjiev to Ion Voicu. My principal heroes in the piece are Leonid Kogan, Viktoria Mullova, and Michael Rabin. The latest addition, number 45, is Nemanja Radulovic accompanied by the Italian Radio Orchestra.

From the many contemporary accounts of Paganini's playing, not only was he an incredible technician, but also a major showman and mesmeriser. This came to mind listening to Radulovic, whose playing swoons, wows, slows, speeds, whispers, shouts and generally indulges in a fair degree of rubato, tempo changes and very wide changes in dynamics. Paganini would probably have considered it “authentic”; most other performances sound somewhat staid and bland compared with Radulovic, and the Italian orchestra accompanies with the kind of enthusiastic gusto Paganini probably imagined from the sounds of early 19th century Italian opera orchestras.

Radulovic had me listening to every note (except some of the pianissimos, that were pretty inaudible to me). Someone who can have me hanging on to every note for 37 minutes in a piece of music I know inside out, gets my vote; this is a performance to which I shall return many times. The CD also contains three caprices, plus other Paganini numbers, all played with quite incredible technical aplomb. I suspect I might feel differently about Radulovic in Bach, Beethoven or Brahms. But for Paganini: he's my man.

Bernard Haitink in Bruckner

During the 1950s when I was exploring music, I acquired Mahler's Kindertotenlieder (Ferrier) and 4th Symphony (Kletzki), as well as Bruckner's 9th Symphony (Horenstein). I still have all three recordings. That was the start of my love affair with the music of Mahler and Bruckner. Both composers were late 19th century Austrians (though Mahler was a bit younger) and both wrote more or less nine symphonies. Actually, there the resemblance ends, and my enthusiasm for Mahler waned over the decades, but the love of Bruckner grew. There is a nobility and sincerity about Bruckner's music that makes it eternal and deeply satisfying.

Jascha Horenstein was a sure guide in Bruckner's 9th (I still find his reading of the demonic scherzo the most demonic of them all) but his 1952 recording was a bit thin and weedy. Later came many more, including van Beinum, Furtwängler, Jochum, Klemperer, Knappertsbusch, Schuricht and Wand, with Wilhelm Furtwängler's 1944 performance perhaps being the greatest of the great. Bruckner needs good sound -- the only conceivable drawback to Furtwängler and Horenstein. He needs a really good conductor, one who can control the ebb and flow of the music, retain a true pulse, shape the phrasing and sculpt the dynamics; and avoid Thomas Beecham's jibe against Bruckner that he heard seven pregnancies and six miscarriages.

There are conductors who achieve many column inches in the media -- Bernstein, Barenboim, von Karajan, Dudhamel, Rattle, et al. And conductors who achieve quiet reputations among cognoscenti and orchestral players: Boult, Klemperer, Horenstein, Knappertsbusch, Wand -- and Bernard Haitink. My father, an orchestral player for most of his life, thought the world of Pierre Monteux. A neighbour of mine who was a prominent player in the Philharmonia in the 1970s when I lived in London, when asked by me which of the present conductors the Philharmonia preferred, replied succinctly: “We don't mind who conducts us, as long as it isn't Menuhin”. Orchestral players have their own hierarchies and most, I suspect, regard most conductors as unnecessary and often expensive hangers-on. But not, I suspect, when it comes to Bruckner symphonies that really need an overall controller to sort out those questions of pulse, tempo and dynamics. A conductor-less orchestra would be hard-pressed in Bruckner.

Tellingly, Bruckner is rarely the pasture where media-celebrity conductors shine. I was gripped and enthralled all over again by Bruckner's ninth symphony in a new recording (2013, live) from Bernard Haitink and the LSO. I frequently smiled during this performance as Haitink so expertly negotiated Bruckner's many tempo changes, seams and joints. The performance is leisurely, as befits a conductor in his 80s and, I would argue, Bruckner's music of the late 19th century Austria where everyone was in less of a hurry than nowadays. The LSO plays superbly here, and the recording is really first rate. What more does one want? Well, Furtwängler in 1944 does provide that little something extra, but one has to weigh the something extra against the inferior sound. I give both Furtwängler and Haitink three stars in this work and am really pleased to have added 2013 Haitink to my collection.

Adolf Busch

Adolf Georg Wilhelm Busch's life was blighted by history and politics – like so many of his generation. Born in Germany in 1891, by the time he was ready to launch his professional career, the Great War broke out. After the war, defeated Germany suffered poverty, hyper-inflation, then a massive economic collapse. The rise of National Socialism saw Busch leaving for self-imposed exile in Switzerland in 1933. He then eked out a career in the 1930s with teaching, concerts and with recording in England. With the arrival of the second world war, Busch left for America where, again, he eked out a living with teaching and a few concerts. His health suffered, and he died in exile in America in 1952 at the age of sixty one in frail health.

A highly interesting double CD set from the Swiss company Guild Historical reveals what a major violinist Busch was, in his prime. Berlin recordings from 1921-2, and 1928-9 show Busch as a violinist of real stature. His recording début had to wait until he was 29 years old, but the 1921-2 recordings show a violinist with a characteristic slashing right arm, exact intonation, exhilarating trills and a superb sense of rhythm; he is particularly admirable in the Brahms Hungarian dances on the CDs. In Bach, Busch is noble and authoritative, but it is particularly interesting to hear him in music he never again recorded (or was allowed to record) such as short pieces by Corelli, Dvorak, Brahms, Gossec, Kreisler and Schumann.

Violin classes at music conservatories could well start with in-depth listening to violinists such as Kreisler, Busch and Enescu – in particular, the use of bow strokes to articulate phrasing and rhythm. Post-1950, smooth, seamless bowing became the accepted fashion (David Oistrakh remarked how Yehudi Menuhin used lots of bow strokes, and Menuhin's teachers included Enescu and Busch).

The sound on these recordings from the 1920s is surprisingly good, and few allowances need to be made. The string quartet excerpts from 1922 suffer most; good for listening to Busch, but the other three merge into a mush far from the horn. The jump in quality when we reach 1928 is very noticeable. I enjoyed everything on these two CDs except, perhaps, Busch's rendition of Schumann's Träumerei (arranged by Hüllweck) which is very slow and with lavish portamenti that distract. Busch's blighted solo violin career was tragic for him – but also for us.

Shostakovich's Symphony No.14

When Shostakovich's 14th symphony saw the light of day in 1969, my three children were already present and smiling. So, for me, it's a somewhat recent work -- possibly the most “modern” work to have entered my listening repertoire. To my great shame, it's a work I had never heard until 30th March 2014; sad neglect on my part.

I bought the CD because I like Shostakovich, I like late Shostakovich, I like Vasily Petrenko and the Liverpool Philharmonic, and I like Naxos's recordings and prices. No disappointment. I cannot judge the performance on the basis of only one known version (to me), but Petrenko, Gal James and Alexander Vinogradov seem to be thoroughly satisfactory in the eleven linked songs that constitute the 14th symphony. The Liverpool Phil, minus woodwind and brass, sounds very professional. Pretty gloomy music, and it would not really be appropriate for a Home for the Aged and Dying. But much Russian music is gloomy, as is much of the music of Dmitry Shostakovich. Tough. I enjoy the 14th symphony immensely and I like Petrenko, James and Vinogradov.

Fritz Kreisler and Jack Liebeck

It is said that Fritz Kreisler was the only violinist Jascha Heifetz admitted to admiring, and a photo of Kreisler always hung in Heifetz's house in California. Probably in recognition of Kreisler's unique tone and style, Heifetz seems to have avoided recording most of Kreisler's compositions, probably realising his performances would never be compared favourably with those of Kreisler himself.

Fritz Kreisler was born in Vienna in February 1875 and most of his compositions for violin date from the end of the nineteenth century and the very beginning of the twentieth. His earliest recordings date from 1904, when he was already 29 years old and in his violinistic prime. For over 100 years, Kreisler's compositions and arrangements have delighted violinists and listeners alike; they are all short, melodious, well written for violin and piano accompaniment, and reflect the fin de siécle world of late nineteenth century Vienna and Berlin. Technically, the pieces are usually not too challenging to play -- even I played most of them, in my time. But they were written to show off Kreisler's unique technique and tonal palette and it is notoriously difficult to approach, let alone equal, Kreisler's own recordings, the earliest of which, Caprice Viennois, dates from 1910.

I usually buy new recordings of the music of Wieniawski, Vieuxtemps and Sarasate -- and of Kreisler, though recordings of Kreisler pieces are often a disappointment. Not so a brand new CD from Jack Liebeck where, appropriately accompanied by Katya Apekisheva, he plays some 17 Kreisler compositions and arrangements over a period of nearly 69 minutes. Liebeck's style is not Kreisler's, but he is convincing in his 69 minute traversal, and he has an excellent feeling for rhythm and tempo, so important in this music. He ends with Kreisler's arrangement of Giuseppe Tartini's “Devil's Trill” sonata, thankfully played in true 20th century style without the museum approach advocated by modern fashion; I have always found Kreisler's cadenza in this work exemplary, and a moment I always anticipate with pleasure (as long as I do not have to play it myself). For Liebeck and partner, Hyperion provides a good, well-balanced recording, with neither instrument too forward. A rare treat.

Paganini's 24 Capricci

It takes a great violinist to hold a listener's attention through 60 minutes of solo violin playing. Although the violin has a wide palette of dynamics and effects, it takes a great violinist to manipulate all the levers. Paganini's 24 caprices are now, technically, almost bread and butter to conservatoire-trained violinists. To master their intricate technicalities is one thing; but a really good performance only comes when the violinist can brush aside the technical challenges and concentrate on the music and on exploring the various voices and colours of the violin.

This blog is becoming (temporarily) a bit of a James Ehnes fan club, but I have just been listening to him in Paga's 24 and was kept gripped until the end. I enjoyed Ehnes's rendition of the finger-twisting sixth caprice. And with Ehnes at the helm, the somewhat weird harmonies of the 8th caprice were just that, and not some violinist encountering intonation problems. And, pace many of the critics --- most of whom turn out to be pianists or choristers -- the 24 capricci are really well written and are attractive music in their own right, not just exercises to show off violin technique. They come into their own when played as music, not as exercises and it was this that so endeared James Ehnes's performance to me. Bravo.

Elgar's Violin Concerto

Much of the music of Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninov, Elgar and Mahler is filled with Angst; it was that period in musical history 1880-1920 when many things were in a turmoil. To my taste, there are two convincing ways of playing angst-rich music: either play it straight, on the grounds all the emotion is already written into the music. Or play it with heart-on-sleeve for all it is worth. In Mahler, take your choice between someone like like Haitink or Klemperer; or someone like Bernstein. In Rachmaninov, take your pick between someone like Rachmaninov himself, or extroverts such as Martha Argerich or Yuja Wang. In Tchaikovsky, the Pathétique Symphony used to please me when played fast and straight by Cantelli or Toscanini, but nowadays I go for heart-on-sleeve Pletnev or Gergiev.

In the Elgar violin concerto to which I have just been listening, those who like the music slobbered over can go with young Menuhin, or with Nigel Kennedy. Those who like the music left to speak for itself can go with Thomas Zehetmair or with James Ehnes, to whom I listened again with admiration yesterday evening.

I have 22 recordings of the Elgar concerto and none of them are bad; the only bad one I had, with Igor Oistrakh all at sea, was deleted from my collection long ago. Apart from the superb Zehetmair and Ehnes modern recordings, I also own recordings by Hugh Bean, Alfredo Campoli, Kyung-Wha Chung, Philippe Graffin, Ida Haendel, Hilary Hahn, Jascha Heifetz, Nai-Yuan Hu, Dong-Suk Kang, Nigel Kennedy, Isabelle van Keulen, Gidon Kremer, Simone Lamsma, Catherine Manoukian, Yehudi Menuhin, Albert Sammons, and Elena Urioste. Quite a line-up, and some surprises such as the impassioned performance by Gidon Kremer, or Kyung-Wha Chung expertly guided by Georg Solti who, for all his faults, was an exemplary no-nonsense Elgarian. My personal favourite reading of all time is Albert Sammons recorded in long-gone 1929; no slobbering there!

James Ehnes and Khachaturian

Since 1996, I have been a fan of the playing of the Canadian violinist, James Ehnes. A rock solid technique, an avoidance of distracting mannerisms, good taste, high intelligence; any performance by James Ehnes almost always ticks the right boxes. His repertoire is wide, and I have especially enjoyed him in Bruch, Britten and Kreisler.

The only box Ehnes has rarely ticked in the past has been evidence of real emotional involvement. I bought his new recording (Khachaturian violin concerto) more on the strength of the other items on the CD (Shostakovich's 7th and 8th string quartets) than on expecting a dazzling performance of Khachaturian's vibrant, colourful and warm-hearted violin concerto. But I was pleasantly surprised; again, Ehnes ticks all the right boxes, but this time he lets himself go and gives us a performance of the concerto to rival my two all-time classics: Julian Sitkovetzky with Niyazi and the Romanian Radio Orchestra (1954), and Leonid Kogan with Monteux in Boston (1958). Melbourne is a long way from Armenia, but the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra players seem to be enjoying themselves. When musicians are having a good time, it shows, and Khachaturian must have made a welcome change for them from non-stop Brahms and Beethoven. England is nearer to Armenia than are Australia or Canada, but the conductor, Mark Wigglesworth enters into the spirit of things. And, to cap it all, Onyx has produced a well-recorded and well-balanced recording. To the groans of “expert” critics, Khachaturian's concerto has found a stable place in the repertoire of 20th century music -- I have 22 different recordings of the piece, and still new ones appear regularly and are usually snapped up by me. Ehnes breaks with tradition and plays Khachaturian's original first movement cadenza, not the Oistrakh one that is usually substituted. But anything is better than Mikhail Simonyan's cadenza that I criticised recently.

Chloë Hanslip plays Medtner

Chloë Hanslip has never featured among my favourite violinists, but I bought her new CD (Hyperion) of Medtner's first and third sonatas because I like the “Epica” sonata very much, and was happy to get to know the first sonata that is also on this disc. Ms Hanslip's playing here was a very pleasant surprise: committed, interesting, varied and subtle.

The violin is balanced too forward for my liking and, as recorded and played on my equipment, on occasions sounds somewhat strident and harsh. This becomes wearing in a long sonata such as the “Epica”. More annoyingly, the pianist -- Igor Tchetuev -- sounds a bit like a Russian Gerald Moore; agreeable, modest, faithful. But turn to Boris Berezovsky (with Vadim Repin, 1996) and the difference is immediately obvious. With Boris at the piano, the third sonata becomes a true duo sonata.

If Chloë Hanslip re-records the Medtner sonatas one day with a better balance and recording engineer and more suitable duo partner. I'll be the first to buy the new edition. The “Epica”, in particular, is a very fine sonata and well deserves to become better known and more often programmed.

Discreet Interpreters

Back from my travels – Luang Prabang in Laos was particularly fine – I quickly plugged back into music listening, something that had been missing for two weeks. First off the storage rack was Matthieu Arama playing (very well) a selection of pieces by Wieniawski, Brahms, Paganini, Sarasate, etc. He is a fine violinist, though I had never heard of him before buying this CD.

For that kind of music, one needs a performer of talent and individuality. Turning afterwards to late Beethoven piano sonatas, I again marvelled at the playing of Igor Levit; when Levit plays, you forget about Levit and his piano and immerse yourself in the late sonatas of Beethoven. Just as when Kempff, Pires or Andsnes play late Schubert, or Adolf Busch and friends play Bach, Schubert or Beethoven, or Philippe Herrewhege conducts Bach … it's the music that occupies centre stage, and the performers involved become almost transparent media.