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.