Beethoven's "Von Herzen - möge es wieder - zu Herzen gehn!" [from the heart, to the heart] sums up quite a lot of what moves me in music – be it folk, popular or classical. I don't take to music that is purely commercial, nor music that is purely cerebral.

I bought a Wigmore Hall Live recording by the Skampa Quartet because it was a very cheap offer, and because it contained quartets by Mozart, Smetana and Shostakovich. As someone who loves Mozart's music, I have always been slightly perplexed at my reaction to the string quartets that never, it seems to me, go to my heart in the way that so much of Mozart's music does. The string quartets have always sounded to me merely expertly written. K 575 in D major on this Skampa disc did not convert me; despite the late Köchel number, the music just passed pleasantly but unremarkably. Very puzzling.

So on to Smetana; Czech music usually reaches directly to the heart. But his D minor quartet (number two) did little for me. Finally, Shostakovich and his eighth quartet in C minor Op 110, and here was the real thing, with remarkable music sending frissons to the listener, and all the tensions and traumas of the Stalin years communicated from the heart, to the heart. I will treasure this CD for the Shostakovich, and pass over the Mozart and the Smetana. Very odd.

There are advantages in having a large collection of recordings, one of which is that, when I suddenly have a desire to hear something different, there is plenty of choice. Today I had a desire to listen to ... Mozart and started with his symphony No.39, one of my favourites. Performed by Otto Klemperer and the Philharmonia, one of my favoured conductors for the Austro-German orchestral corpus. Wonderful music, superbly played and conducted. Klemperer's desire to have woodwind forward really pays dividends in Mozart's music. Then on to the beautiful voice of Caroyln Sampson singing early religious stuff by Mozart. I never become tired of listening to Ms Sampson, whatever she may sing.

Listening to a new recording of Handel's Aminta e Fillide, I wonder anew at how music, melodies and arias simply poured out of the 21 year old Saxon. The cantata consists of a string of non-stop hits, many of which were re-cycled in later works (particularly the operas). This is the third recording I have of this work, which is highly dependent on having two good soloists, plus expert chamber orchestra back-up. Here on the latest CD, Klaartje van Veldhoven and Stefanie True are the two excellent soloists, and Contrasto Armonico provides the expert back-up. Director is Marco Vitale, and speeds sound acceptable, though verging on the somewhat brisk at times, in the modern manner. Sometimes, we need more time to savour the delights of Handel's arias. But, all in all, a good acquisition.

I am often criticised (particularly by members of my family) for having multiple versions of the same piece of recorded music. Things become even more ridiculous when one has multiple versions of the same piece of music by the same artist. For the record, I have FOUR recordings of Lisa Batiashvili playing the Beethoven violin concerto.

Until yesterday, I had two of the same Lisa playing the first Shostakovich violin concerto; now I have three, having recorded off-air her performance on Wednesday evening at a Promenade concert in London (with the Philharmonia Orchestra conducted by Esa-Pekka Salonen). Happily, there is a point in having three; this latest version is absolutely superb, and the 32 year old Batiashvili has really grown into the music and underlines the fact that, often, live performances give 15% more than a comparable studio one (Batiashvili recorded this same work with Salonen in a studio last year).

Batiashvili sounds very “Moscow school” and has Oistrakh's smooth, seamless tone. But she has retained her gift of being totally involved in what she is playing, in concentrating hard on the music, and in keeping a long line to the music. I loved this latest performance even though, a bit like the Elgar violin concerto, the first Shostakovich does not lack for superb recorded performances (Julia Fischer, Vadim Repin, Maxim Vengerov and Leila Josefowicz spring immediately to mind). In Wednesday night's performance, Lisa Batiashvili sounds entirely believable and comes over as a great artist. Salonen, as before in the studio, is an admirable partner.

For much of my life, I have sat down and listened dutifully to the music of Franz Liszt without particularly enjoying it. I must have at least one kilo of Liszt CDs in my collection. This evening, however, I listened to Liszt with enjoyment, thanks to the playing of Lise de la Salle, a 23 year old pianist from Cherbourg for whom I have had a great affection for the past few years.

Miss de la Salle plays without artifice, and without playing to the gallery. Listening to her playing Liszt is like eavesdropping on a private recital; she plays for herself, and we are privileged to listen.

At last, I have enjoyed the music of Franz Liszt! Any quibbles? Is it unreasonable to ask why, in a CD with over an hour of Liszt's music, there is no photo of Liszt but seven “arty” photos of a rather fed-up looking Miss de la Salle? Who makes the most important contribution, here? But, quibbles apart, this is a most enjoyable CD and I'm glad I bought it.

A quote from the American Record Guide sums up my feelings after listening to Adolf Busch and Rudolf Serkin playing Schubert's Fantiasie D 934 in 1931: “Why is it that pre-WW II chamber music recordings – this one is a good example – are almost invariably more relaxed and laid-back in style; sweeter, riper and richer in tone; smoother and more refined in execution; more involved and overtly communicative in execution; more focussed on rhetorical style and architectural integrity?”

I could not have put it better myself. Pre-1940 Schubert (and Bruckner) laid down standards of performance that simply did not transition to the more recent world. When Busch and Serkin play, the focus is simply and purely on the music; tricks of performance, feats of violinistic or pianistic excellence, simply play no part in the music making. Busch and Serkin playing Schubert in 1931 join the short list of recordings that have never subsequently been bettered. Or even equalled.

Giovanni Battista Pergolesi died in 1736 at the age of 26. Guillaume Lekeu died in 1894 just one day after his 24th birthday. What immense losses! Had Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Brahms, Wagner et al died at the age of 24, how much poorer music would be.

At the moment, I am conducting a mini Lekeu festival in my flat, centred on his chamber works. I have two recordings of the magnificent (but unfinished) piano quartet, one from the Ensemble Eugène Ysaÿe, one from a quartet led from the piano by Daniel Blumenthal (copy courtesy of Carlos). The Blumenthal version is by far the best: taut, focussed with well integrated sound. More Lekeu is on order (Quatuor Debussy) as well as the violin sonata from Alina Ibragimova, due at the end of this month.

I like Lekeu's music, which echoes Brahms, Wagner or Bruckner without the Teutonic thickness of the writing and the ideas. His death after just 23 years of life was an immense tragedy for all of us.

Living in England, I have been deluged all my life with eulogies to Great British pianists, tenors, violinists, oboe players, conductors, composers, and so on. In whatever country you live, you need to apply a strong filter to news / reviews / promotional puffs.

So I am reticent when approaching Kathleen Ferrier, easily the most famous British contralto / mezzo soprano in history. Over-hyped? Tragic story of local girl makes good, then dies young?

I listened to a recent molto-cheapo Regis CD of Ferrier with great enjoyment and admiration. In Mahler's Kindertotenlieder, and three of the Rückert Lieder, she was quite superb. In Brahms' Vier Ernste Gesänge (with piano) she is deeply moving. The voice is wonderful, the diction exemplary. But what is especially impressive is her ability to empathise with what she is singing, and in this she rivals Maria Callas (but in a very different repertoire). Only drawback to the Regis disc; there is no libretto and extensive hunting of the Internet fail to reveal the words Ferrier sings for the fourth of the Ernste Gesänge.

It is surprising, given my highly ambivalent feelings towards the symphonies of Gustav Mahler, that I have spent the past few days in semi Mahler saturation. The latest was an ultra-cheap Regis CD of Kathleen Ferrier singing the Kindertotenlieder, plus three of the Rückert songs.

I complained about Katerina Karnéus in the Kindertotenlieder: first song 6' 12”; second song 5' 08”. With Bruno Walter at the helm for Ferrier (with the Vienna Philharmonic), the first song is 4' 48”, and the second 4' 35”. Chronometers are not all in music performance, of course. But they are often indicative. I grew up with Ferrier-Walter-Kindertotenlieder in the 1950s (second-hand Columbia ten inch LP). I have always loved it and it is one of the instances where I do not need an alternative version. The 1949 recording comes over well, helped by the fact that, until the last song, we do not hear a full orchestra. Ferrier and Walter go on (1952) with three of the Rückert Lieder and these, again, seem to me timeless and ideal. Both singer and conductor had an incredible empathy with the music of Mahler.

Before that, it was Fischer-Dieskau, Schwarzkopf and Szell in the Knaben Wunderhorn. Produced by Walter Legge. Orchestra the London Symphony Orchestra. The music awoke my misgivings about much of Mahler: not much depth, a bit superficial, brilliantly and intelligent written. But where is the meat? A foretaste of Hollywood. I remain ambivalent about Fischer-Dieskau and Schwarzkopf: one a bit coy and arch too often, the other a bit blustery, on occasions. Szell and the LSO came off best, in my estimation. Walter Legge probably stiched together 298 takes.

A CD featuring a recital given in Vienna in May 1974 confirms many of my ideas (and prejudices). The two artists are David Oistrakh and Paul Badura-Skoda. The Russian and the Viennese play Viennese duo classics by Beethoven, Mozart and Schubert.

As with the recent Heifetz recital that emerged from Uruguay, I welcome the absence of a recording studio. Very often, a public performance brings a naturalness and heightened involvement from the artists concerned. In the old days, "live recordings" were somewhat frowned upon. Increasingly today, however, live recordings are becoming far more common (albeit for economic rather than technical reasons, one feels). Another advantage of (some) live recordings is a more natural balance between artists; as in the case of Heifetz and Brooks Smith in Uruguay, and as in the case of Oistrakh and Badura-Skoda here. The balance is ideal, and the players complement each other perfectly. I am not an Oistrakh fan; he was a wonderful violinist, a great musician and, as we hear here, a perfect partner in chamber music. But I have never taken to his ultra-smooth legato style of violin playing -- "too smooth by half", my mother might have said. I like to hear bow strokes, and I like string players who use their bows to articulate and phrase. Oistrakh sounds like smooth, whipped cream and his sound is loved by everyone but me and has had a major influence on much modern violin playing.

Live recordings bring the risk of tiny flaws, of course. But normally the flaws are a small price to pay for the heightened spontaneity and involvement by the players. Oistrakh recorded so often, and it is always good to hear him live. One wonders about some great studio performances; even a great classic such as Nathan Milstein playing the Goldmark violin concerto with the Philharmonia Orchestra in 1957 has one wondering about reality; the 31 minutes of the concerto apparently occupied two days of recording (second and fourth of August) and the Testament CD contains just under 15 minutes of "alternative takes"; when you hear the technician announce "Take 78" you start to remember Otto Klemperer's remark to his daughter on a similar Philharmonia / EMI occasion: "Lotte: ein Schwindel!" And a recording technician recently quipped concerning a studio recording by a famous violinist somewhat over the hill: "There was a take for every note he played".

Studio recordings are often somewhat suspect. They have also been detrimental to performances in making audiences and listeners expect complete perfection in every bar -- another factor in the marked slowing-down of tempi in performances of so many classical works, as artists seek safety in reduced speed.

Patricia Kopatchinskaja CD Part II. This was a lot better than the first part (Kreutzer Sonata). In fact, the performance of the Bartok Six Romanian Dances by Ms K. and Fazil Say was truly excellent. Mr Say's hair style suggests he is a fan of Franz Liszt, but his five movement sonata for violin and piano is a long way from Liszt but not at all disagreable; it is well written, clever, and pleasant to listen to. The music comes across as vaguely Balkan.

Ravel's G major sonta is also well played by the duo, but European music's (happily brief) flirtation with American jazz during the 1920s and early 30s was not particularly a beneficial one. Not a sonata I particularly enjoy (especially not the slow movement).

An unusual day saw me listening to Brahms, Dvorak and Mahler, hardly my normal daily fare. The Dvorak four pieces, plus the E minor Mazurek, were played by Josef Suk and very fine they were, too. I particularly admired Suk's bowing, articulation and immaculate double-stops in the Mazurek. Then on to Suk and Julius Katchen in their classic 1967 account of the three Brahms violin & piano sonatas, and what particularly struck me here was the fact that throughout the ten movements of the three sonatas I did not once query the tempi set by Suk and Katchen. The “ever-slower” fashion did not catch up with Suk.

But it certainly did with Katarina Karnéus and Susanna Mälkki in Mahler. The Kindertotenlieder dragged on for ever. The Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen were better, after the first song, but brakes were applied sharply wherever there was the slightest opportunity. I do not know the Fünf Rückert Lieder well enough to pronounce on the tempi, but they often sounded very slow indeed. Which is all a great pity, since Mälkki did a good job with the orchestra, BIS produced an excellent recording and Karnéus has an attractive voice. And I like Mahler's vocal music. In the modern musical world, slow bespeaks with feeling, soulful, reverence, deep emotions. But go back sixty years or so, and one realises that most slow music benefits from being taken at a “proper” tempo (which takes us back to Suk and Katchen).

I greatly enjoyed the performance of the Beethoven violin concerto by Josef Suk (coupled with the Dvorak concerto) ably and interestingly accompanied by Malcolm Sargent conducting the BBC Symphony Orchestra in the Albert Hall, September 1965. The performance by Suk is within the classical Central European tradition (compare with Wolfgang Schneiderhan, Erich Röhn, Adolf Busch or Georg Kulenkampff). No fuss, no strutting of personality, just a beautiful and meticulous traversal of Beethoven' music. For a change, we have short, appropriate cadenzas (by Vasa Prihoda) which is a relief after some of the monstrosities I have had to listen to recently. Suk's violin sounds wonderful and, considering the recording venue, the recorded sound is excellent. For once, I was impressed with Sargent's very real contribution. Makes a change to feel enthusiastic about a recording of the Beethoven violin concertos after so many disappointing versions. This CD, that also contains the excellent recording of the Dvorak concerto I have commented on previously, was a very good buy.

For lunch today I concocted a superb dish of mushrooms, fried in bacon with garlic, salt, pepper and mixed herbs. Completely delicious.

At the moment, practically every music-related publication I pick up seems to feature a full page colour advertisement for a violinist called Charlie Siem. I have no views on Mr Siem and have not yet heard him (mainly since his choice of repertoire to record spells out endless duplications in my collection; the only thing that interested me so far was Wieniawski's first concerto, but I think that was coupled with yet another version of the Bruch G minor concerto. How ambitious).

Which is all a long route to saying that "star" musicians are not necessarily the best of the pack, and I was conscious yesterday evening listening to Josef Suk playing the Dvorak violin concerto (1964) that Suk was a very considerable violinist with, albeit a moderately low-level profile. He spent pretty well all his life in and around Prague appreciated by violin cognoscenti but unheard of by most of the music-loving public in the Western world. Dvorak's violin concerto has had a mediocre career ever since Joachim wriggled out of giving its premiere and, to my knowledge, was not played by violinists such as Kreisler, Heifetz, Elman or Szigeti (Menuhin, Oistrakh and Milstein were exceptions in so far as "big names" pre-1970 were concerned). Its popularity is faring better of late, but I have never really taken to it. I did enjoy Suk's 1964 performance on this current CD, however. His violin playing is wonderful, and he understands about not wallowing in the music and bringing things to a near halt every few minutes. I have neglected my Suk collection (not enough full-page colour advertisements?) I shall dust off the CDs and listen again with interest. Josef Suk died this month at the age of 81; his recorded contribution will live on.

I am not making wise CD purchase decisions at the moment. After the recent Respighi disaster, I decided on the spur of the moment to order a CD by a violinist I much like and admire, Patricia Kopatchinskaja -- despite the fact that none of the music was among my preferred pieces. So I started with the Beethoven Kreutzer sonata -- and hated it. Miss Kopatchinskaja plays in a "pseudo baroque" style, which means ugly bulges on longer notes instead of vibrato. She also deprives the music of any basic pulse -- dynamic or tempo -- and, to paraphrase Carl Flesch discussing Bronislaw Huberman, "she either whispers, or she shouts". The whole of the first and second movements sound unstable, with the two players seemingly striving to be "different" rather than to understand the music. The finale is better but, to compound matters, the sound on the CD (Naïve) makes the violin sound rasping and screechy, and the piano (played by Fazil Say) resembles an over-played pub piano; we are a long way from the sound of Alfred Cortot.

Well, still to come, once I pluck up courage, are the Ravel sonata (not one of my favourite works), the Bartok six Romanian dances (which may suit Kopatchinskaja much better) and a Turkish sonata by the pianist on this CD. Can't wait. In fairness to myself, I did have second thoughts and tried to cancel the CD less than two hours after ordering it online. But Amazon deemed this too long and cancellation was denied. I can hardly send it back saying I don't like it.

The latest transfer of Bruckner's fifth symphony, transferred by German engineers from the original tapes, is pretty remarkable. For a recording made in October 1942, the sound is perfectly acceptable, with just the loudest fortissimo passages sounding restrained. In addition, you get the inspired conducting of Furtwängler; no one now in Bruckner has the same mastery of pulse, tempo, dynamics and rubato. And finally, you get the wonderful playing of the old Berlin Philharmonic playing in its old hall.
For me, the only downside is the music. I am fond of Bruckner's 4th and 8th symphonies, I love the 7th and adore the 9th. But the 5th and 6th always leave me standing outside. Anyway, with this new Testament release I can sit back and admire the conducting and the playing, if not the music.

My friend Lee sent me the first CD (of a scheduled six) on which Sherban Lupu plays violin and piano works by Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst. I started listening with some scepticism; the only works by Ernst that I know at all well are the Erlkönig transcription and the Last Rose of Summer variations, neither of which is a favourite piece, since in them all too often Ernst seems to be intent on writing music that is pretty well unplayable. However, the pieces on the new CD converted me and Ernst now inspires warm feelings. He had a wonderful gift of melody (better than Paganini). Even if one or two of the Carnaval de Venise variations show Ernst's determination to write violin music that is almost impossible to play, almost all the current CD is highly enjoyable. Lupu plays well, with just the right degree of sweetness the music demands, and Ian Hobson is excellent back-up in the piano parts (which are often interesting in themselves). Hobson even concentrates throughout the repetitive arpeggio figure that accompanies the Carnaval de Venise for ten minutes. And, most important in music such as this, the recording balance (Toccata Classics) is well judged and there is just the right amount of "air" around the sound. Many thanks to Lee for this birthday present; I'll probably buy the next five CDs as they appear.

Nearly twenty years ago in 1992, the Staatskapelle Dresden was a marvellous orchestra, at least when playing the German Romantics. It probably is superb, to this day, but this evening I was listening to Colin Davis conducting the orchestra in Schubert's 'Unfinished' symphony, and Brahms' third. Glorious music, glorious playing (and pretty fine 1992 recording, as well). Only conundrum is: where does one file such a coupling so it can be found again?

The evening began equally well with one of my finest omlettes (ham and mushroom). This really is a better dish than any 'ready to eat' dishes one can buy.

Parsifal, and Valery Gergiev

Most of Sunday was devoted to listening to Wagner's Parsifal, in a glorious recording from the Mariinsky Theatre conducted by Valery Gergiev. Although I also have the opera conducted by Goodall, and by Knappertsbusch, I suspect this Parsifal is the one to have. The opera needs good voices, but there are no real "star" roles or arias. The orchestra is all-important, so a recording with excellent sound, an inspired conductor and marvellous orchestral playing is almost a sure winner.

The Gurnemanz of René Pape is superb (Goodall's Gurnemanz was pretty dreadful). I am not sure Violeta Urmana has the right voice for Kundry; the voice needs more honey if she is to seduce Parsifal -- one pines a little for the sound of Sandrine Piau or Simone Kermes. But these are details in a superb recording of a superb opera. Even if one blanches a little at Wagner extolling the virtues of Christianity and chastity (the old hypocrite!), Parsifal remains an amazing creation and one of music's major peaks.