Fanny Clamagirand in the Beethoven Violin Concerto

Up until now, the French violinist Fanny Clamagirand has appeared on my shelves only in French music by Camille Saint-Saëns and Eugène Ysaÿe, so I was happy to receive a CD of her playing the Beethoven violin concerto, with the English Chamber Orchestra conducted by Ken-David Masur (Mirare). This is a performance I greatly enjoyed, starting with the recording balance. Beethoven's concerto is not written for a super macho soloist; the concerto is intensely lyrical and soloist and orchestra play the music together. This is Beethoven in a relaxed mood (the concerto is Opus 61 and the Pastoral Symphony Opus 68). The violinist and orchestra are well integrated, with the violin not having a distracting spotlight as it weaves its arabesques around the orchestral part.

Ms Clamagirand makes a somewhat tentative start at her very first entry, but thereafter things go exactly as they should. The orchestra makes an excellent partner for the solo violin. A big plus: Ms Clamagirand plays Kreisler's cadenzas throughout. There are dozens of cadenzas for this concerto, many of them somewhat preposterous and written for a different kind of soloist. After Beethoven, composers became wiser about leaving cadenzas to soloists and either wrote them out themselves, or with a virtuoso adviser (David for Mendelssohn, and Joachim for Brahms). Well done all concerned here: Beethoven, Fanny Clamagirand, orchestra, and Mirare.

Toscha Seidel

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

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

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

Akiko Suwanai Magnificent in Bach

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

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

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

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

Leonidas Kavakos Part II: Bach

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

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

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

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

Leonidas Kavakos Part I

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

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

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

Ginette Neveu

Fritz Kreisler, Mischa Elman, Toscha Seidel, Nathan Milstein, Josef Szigeti, Jascha Heifetz, Arthur Grumiaux, Josef Suk, Leonid Kogan, David Oistrakh … and so on. No shortage of top violinists in the previous century. But for me, at the top of the pile, was Ginette Neveu. Her career was tragic: it started in 1938, then came the second world war in 1939. Her career re-started in 1946 after the end of the war, only to end in October 1949 with her death in a plane crash while on her way to an American tour.

Andrew Rose of Pristine Classical has (thankfully) diverted from transferring endless American radio recordings of the 1950s and 60s to apply his considerable talents to remastering Ginette Neveu in a selection of violin and piano recordings from 1939 to 1948. The sound is now at the best it has ever been and is perfectly acceptable (except for the Debussy sonata recorded in 1948 where the piano as recorded was far too dominant, and Neveu too distant). The sound in the Strauss sonata, recorded in Berlin in 1939 with Gustaf Beck, is excellent, even given the 83 year time gap.

There is a supreme passion and vibrancy in Neveu's playing. I grew up in the 1950s with her recordings of the Sibelius violin concerto (coupled on an American LP with Josef Suk's Four Pieces Op 17 recorded in London, August 1948 which are also reproduced on this new Pristine CD). Her sound has little in common with the sophisticated Franco-Belgian school of violin playing; in Scarlatescu's Bagatelle, and in Ravel's Tzigane, she sounds almost Romanian or Hungarian, perhaps reflecting the influence of her teacher, the Hungarian Carl Flesch. Her playing in the four pieces by Suk has been engraved on my memory for over 60 years now and no one plays Ravel's Tzigane to approach Neveu. To my ears, her playing of Richard Strauss's evergreen violin sonata (with Gustaf Beck in 1939) outclasses even Heifetz in its soaring lyricism.

In an age where violinists now play with computer-like precision and accuracy, but with little passion, it is well worth remembering of what a violin is capable, in the right hands. For that we need the legacy, meagre in quantity though it may be, of Ginette Neveu. A big thank you to Andrew Rose of Pristine for reminding us of Ginette. Her few recordings are ones from which I will never part for the rest of my life.

Vikingur Olafsson disappoints in Mozart & Contemporaries

I greatly enjoyed Vikingur Olafsson's traversals of Bach, and of Rameau and Debussy. So I was an easy customer for his CD of “Mozart and Contemporaries”. A bit disappointed, however. Not everything Mozart wrote was high art (though never perfunctory). On this new CD, I greatly enjoyed the opening track, an andante spiritoso from a sonata by Baldassare Guluppi (who?) Olafsson's arrangement for piano of the adagio from Mozart's string quintet in G minor K 516 just does not work; Mozart knew perfectly well how to write for two violins, two violas, and a cello. The lack of colour when the movement is played on a piano is like seeing a black and white photograph of a Michelangelo painting. And Franz Liszt's transcription of Mozart's Ave verum corpus K 618 is, quite frankly, boring. So, for me, this new CD from Olafsson comes nowhere near the interest of his previous two discs. A shame.

Handel's Lovelorn Sorceresses, with Sandrine Piau

There are worse ways of spending a Sunday morning in January than listening to a new CD from Sandrine Piau on which she sings Handel arias of what someone once called “Handel's lovelorn sorceresses”. Now an incredible 56 years old, Piau sings like a lovelorn angel, with no apparent vocal weaknesses. The sad or dramatic arias (depending on the mood of the sorceress) are mainly well known; after over 250 years of being sung over and over again, they enable the listener to bask in Handel's genius for melody and mood. Handel's music has always been a happy hunting ground for singers who revel in the baroque era, and many of the arias on this new CD have been included in similar compilations by singers such as Joyce DiDonato, and Simone Kermes. Piau, now in full maturity, enters fully into the spirit of each aria, and I enjoyed her singing very much indeed. The recital ends with a moving rendition of Lascia ch'io pianga from Rinaldo.

With the title “Enchantresses”, the CD from Alpha-Classics also features movements from two of Handel's concerti grossi, all played by Les Paladins under the direction of Jérôme Correas. I love Handel's music and was so keen to buy this latest CD from Sandrine Piau that I inadvertently ordered and received two copies. The recording is OK, but on my equipment suffers from the usual problem that if I adjust the sound so the band plays clearly, the singer – recorded too close – blows your socks off.

Record of the Year 2021

The end of another year. My CD purchases are becoming rarer as I explore the vast archives on my shelves. But disc of the year? It has to be Sabine Devieilhe singing angelically music by Bach and Handel. Raphaël Pichon and Pygmalion accompany. Glorious singing, glorious music.

Runner up is Elgar's violin concerto, sensitively played by Renaud Capuçon and the LSO. Despite his often blustering exterior, Elgar was a sensitive soul and the playing of his violin concerto should reflect this.

So a duo of French performers for my CDs of the year. Bravo les français!

Bach's Mass in B minor with Otto Klemperer

Christmas Day, and time to celebrate with Bach's Mass in Minor and a bottle of 10 year old Laphroaig whisky. I have always considered the Bach Mass to be one of the three peaks of music. It never fails to move and invigorate me with its sheer level of inspiration and supreme craft. I have seven recorded versions on my shelves, accumulated over the decades. But the one I chose today was the 1967 recording with Otto Klemperer conducting the Philharmonia, with Agnes Giebel, Janet Baker, Nicolai Gedda, Hermann Prey, and Franz Crass.

Klemperer was no old-fashioned traditionalist, but he was steeped in the German idiom of Bach performances. He refused to record the work when Walter Legge was in charge, since Legge insisted on using the full Philharmonia Chorus, whereas Klemperer insisted on a choir of no more than six singers per part in the choir. For this EMI recording, Klemperer used a choir of 48 voices, with the Philharmonia reduced to 50 instrumentalists. Ideal, in my view (and probably also in Bach's who would probably have been appalled at a Joshua Rifkin approach with just a choir of eight for his magnificent music).

In this performance we can admire the clarity of the music – both choral and orchestral. You can hear everything. Particularly memorable is Klemperer's insistence on clear balance, a forward trumpet, and an omnipresent bass part – something many German conductors appeared to favour, including Furtwängler. We can admire the top-quality singing and instrumental playing, together with the recorded quality and the balance. The only thing that jars a little to modern ears is the strong vibrato from the two female soloists; they don't sound like that nowadays when singing Bach, but in the end it's all a question of current fashion. All together, with Otto in charge, this jewel in music's crown receives a truly great performance; my other six recorded versions can stay on the shelves (I ditched Joshua Rifkin's version years ago).

Leila Schayegh surprises and pleases in Bach

There is music where a highly specific sound is indispensable: one thinks of the solitary bassoon in the Handel arias Scherza infida (Ariodante), or Pena tiranna (Amadigi). No getting round it; you have to have a mournful bassoon in those arias. When it comes to a violin strung and played in a “baroque” manner, it is a different matter. No one will persuade me that a “baroque” violin sounds better than a modern strung violin, nor that the baroque instrument adds a je ne sais quoi to the sound and performance of 18^th century music (whatever the current fashion critics may decree). The only thing I will concede is that in a large room or a small hall, a modern violin risks being somewhat over-loud unless played appropriately (I was once nearly deafened at a violin recital in London's Wigmore Hall by a modern violin and violinist playing at full Lamborghini throttle). This is not a factor in recordings, or in off-air listening, of course.

More out of curiosity rather than need (I already have fourteen sets of the six sonatas and partitas for solo violin by J.S. Bach) I bought a new set by a violinist I had never come across: Leila Schayegh, a Swiss woman playing a Guarneri violin “in a baroque manner”. I had never heard a Swiss violinist before, so I decided to buy the set on a whim. It turned out to be an excellent acquisition. Leila has a wonderful sense of dance rhythms, and of light and shade. Technically she is first class, with intelligent playing, and she sounds as if she loves and enjoys the music she is playing (most important in Bach performances). She even ends the ciaccona of the second partita in a way I like: quiet and meditative. And she get the ciaccona under 13 minutes, of which I heartily approve; some violinists really drag it out as if they are playing César Franck. Despite my fourteen alternative complete sets; after a couple of drinks, I might even declare Schayegh to be my favourite of them all.

David Fray and Bach's Goldberg Variations

I have never quite recovered from the shock of settling down to listen to Bach's Cantata BWV 1083 Tilge, Höchster, meine Sünden only to discover it was Pergolesi's Stabat Mater, given an orchestral make-over and some good new Protestant words, by Johann Sebastian. And then to discover the opening Praeludium of the solo violin partita in E major re-purposed as an organ solo in another Bach cantata. And then the first movement of the third Brandenburg concerto used (with added woodwind) as the prelude to another Bach cantata. So much for “authenticity” and bowing before the composer's wishes. Bach never appears to have been too worried as to exactly what forces played his music, and how. “Just feel the music and play it!” he probably told the wide variety of executants during his lifetime. And if a piece of his music pleased him, he re-cycled it in other works and for other instruments. So much for “authentic performance on instruments of the time”.

I have long held the view that the best way to appreciate Bach's music is to play it, and to discover the concealed rhythms and harmonies, although it's now many decades since I held a violin or viola under my chin and played Bach's music. Like Johann Sebastian, I am really not worried how Bach's music is played, and on what instrument (so long as it's not a saxophone, electronic guitar, full modern symphony orchestra, or a harpsichord). Open the music. Learn to play it. Feel the music. Play it.

Which is why I recently enjoyed listening to Beatrice Rana playing Bach's Goldberg Variations: she sat at the piano and did her own thing to the music. And now comes a worthy rival: David Fray sits at the piano and does his own thing to the music. Fray is cooler than Rana, but no less admirable. I now have a real problem when I want to listen to the Goldbergs. I can forget the other 11 versions of the work on my shelves and hum and ha over Rana v Fray. As David Fray has already shown in other Bach recordings, including four violin and keyboard sonatas with Renaud Capuçon; he has an excellent empathy with Bach's music.

Handel's Unsung Heroes

Handel was famous for surrounding himself with star singers, often imported from continental Europe to London. He was equally fussy when it came to star instrumentalists, enlisting and often importing a number of star players. It was an excellent idea for a new CD from Pentatone to concentrate on Handel opera numbers where oboe, bassoon, violin, trumpet or horn play a prominent part. As a lover of Handel's music, I enjoyed “Handel's Unsung Heroes”. The band is La Nuova Musica, and the director David Bates. The various instrumental stars are listed, and the CD includes my all-time favourite Handel aria: Scherza Infida, from Ariodante.

So far, so very good. I scowled a bit at the balance of the various solo singers, however. Lucy Crowe, Christine Rice and Iestyn Davies are recorded close-up and thus appear never to sing below forte, often overshadowing the star instruments that are supposed to be the raison d'être of this well-intentioned CD. Shame, and unusual for Pentatone to get things wrong.

Anton Bruckner and Bernard Haitink

Sorting through my large CD archives I came across a performance of Bruckner's 7^th symphony conducted by Bernard Haitink and played by the Berlin Philharmonic in the Albert Hall in London on 28^th August 2000. It's a magnificent performance of a magnificent symphony, and I had forgotten what a marvellous conductor Bernard Haitink was. With Haitink on the podium, it's just you and Bruckner with no flamboyant intermediary determined to make his mark.

I was an early convert to Bruckner's music, way back in my teens. I have always preferred his music to that of Mahler; they are often paired, having both stemmed from Austria and written nine long symphonies each. But there is a nobility and humanity in Bruckner's music; one does not readily associate nobility and humanity with Gustav Mahler. Listening to Bruckner's 7^th symphony was a thoroughly enjoyable one hour experience. One can understand Thomas Beecham's remark about nine pregnancies and eight miscarriages; anyone in a hurry doesn't need Bruckner. You just need to sit back and bask in the music.

My other pleasant surprise was the excellent sound of the old CD, recorded off-air by me in August 2000. The sumptuous orchestral sound came over well. An enjoyable visit to the archives.

Bach, Handel -- and Sabine Devieilhe

My latest CD purchase could well be dedicated to lovers of the music of Johann Sebastian Bach, Georg Friedrich Händel, and the soprano voice. The contrast between Bach and Handel has always fascinated me; born within six weeks and 180 km of each other, their music is strikingly differentiated on this recent CD from Sabine Devieilhe, with Pygmalion directed by Raphaël Pichon. Bach alternates with Handel, with just one interlude from the band (the Sinfonia from the cantata BWV 199 – which I am sure I once played in my youth arranged as the first movement of a violin concerto).

All 84 minutes of music are first class. The singing is superb (I love Devieilhe's voice), the band plays wonderfully, and the recording (Erato) is first rate. What strikes me is that Bach uses the soprano voice as another instrument; Handel, as a composer attracted to opera and Italian music, revels in the soprano voice. No wonder so many singers love the music of Handel! Bach has you nodding approval; Handel has your foot tapping. Not too many CDs I fall in love with at first listening. But the combination of Bach, Handel, and Devieilhe is completely irresistible. Devieilhe sings mainly in German, with a couple of Handel pieces in Italian and, to my ears, she is excellent. Bach's cantata BWV 51 Jauchzet Gott in allen Landen is a favourite of sopranos. I have it sung by  Emma Kirkby, Christine Schäfer, Carolyn Sampson, Elizabeth Watts, and Maria Stader, some of whom screech a bit; it's a bit tough competing with a trumpet. Sabine does not screech, and the strident trumpet is well balanced.

A sour note to end with? As so often with Warner – an American company – there are glamorous photos of Sabine, but not one picture of the two eminent composers. Probably the Warner production team had never heard of the two “song arrangers”.

Tianwa Yang Superb in Prokofiev Concertos

The Chinese violinist Tianwa Yang is a supremely elegant player, a quality that made her recordings of the complete works for violin of Sarasate, plus the six solo sonatas of Eugène Ysaÿe, so memorable. Her latest recorded venture is the two violin concertos of Sergei Prokofiev, plus Prokofiev's slender sonata for solo violin. Prokofiev's two concertos are very much written for violin and orchestra, with the various sections of the orchestra playing a major part. The two concertos do not have the emotional challenges of a Mozart, Beethoven, Elgar or Shostakovich but they do demand an expert soloist and a good orchestra; they get both here with Tianwa and the Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra. Conductor is Jun Märkl.

The recorded balance is good. The all-important orchestral contribution is well featured. As reproduced on my equipment, the sound overall is good, though Tianwa's violin often sounds steely and harsh in the upper registers, especially when she is playing forte or fortissimo; hardly the fault of Tianwa or Guarneri del Gesù, one suspects. More likely the recording engineers. So: attractive music, a superb soloist, admirable orchestral support. But the harsh sound in the solo violin's upper register does niggle on occasions though, of course, different play-back equipment might modify this.

Three First-Rate Bach Cantatas from John Butt

Just as an alcoholic finds it difficult to resist yet another drink, so I find it difficult not to buy yet another CD of Bach cantatas. My latest fall from grace is a Linn production offering three of Bach's best cantatas: Ich habe genug (BWV 82), Liebster Jesu, mein Verlangen (BWV 32), and the Actus Tragicus (BWV 106). An impressive line-up. The Dunedin Consort is directed by John Butt; the recording is excellent with a clear line to Bach's often intricate ornaments for the accompanying band.

The “chorus” is econo-Bach, with just one to a part. Often this does not matter, but in Bach's elaborate writing in BWV 106 where he contrasts solo voices to the chorus, it's a bit of a pity. One feels that Bach, having put so much effort into the writing, probably hoped for less than an economy production. The bass, Matthew Brook, is to be highly commended for his exemplary diction; one can hear every word, and this is almost comical in the duets between bass and soprano in BWV 32 where the soprano, Joanne Lunn, could be singing in Mongolian for all we can hear. Why do so many sopranos find clear diction such a problem? Véronique Gens, and Maria Callas, were noticeable exceptions when it comes to clear articulation. I was not too enthralled with the alto, Katie Bray but, on the whole, singing and instrumental playing all come off well. A good addition to my 300 or so recordings of Bach cantatas.

Camille Saint-Saëns, Fanny Clamagirand, Vanya Cohen, Naxos

For many, many years now I have been an admirer and supporter of the Naxos recording company. Not for Naxos the fashion of the moment; no releases of music by black women composers of indeterminate sex. Naxos plods on with first-rate artists (who are not necessarily big names), recording music that ought to be recorded and made available. Its booklets are factual and eschew glamorous photos of glamorous artists. Brand managers may sniff, but Naxos has been around for decades where almost all its competitors have fallen by the wayside.

The latest Naxos release to cross my CD player is of the music for violin and piano of Camille Saint-Saëns whose long life (1835-1921) meant he composed reams and reams of tuneful music. The is Volume 3 of the Saint-Saëns works, recorded by Fanny Clamagirand and Vanya Cohen. The duo is hardly a household name but both artists are mightily impressive in this music that is arrangements for violin and piano -- almost all the arrangements by Saint-Saëns himself, except for one by Georges Bizet and the other by Eugène Ysaÿe. There is music to move the soul; there is music to move the spirits. And there is music simply to be listened to and enjoyed. I listened to the nine works on this CD and enjoyed them all, as I did the playing of Fanny Clamagirand and Vanya Cohen and the recording and balancing skills of Naxos. Thank goodness there is some quality left in this wicked world. Given my advancing years and my kilos of CDs on my shelves, I now buy few new CDs, but I always have room for CDs such as this.