Op 61

[Todd]

Vadim Repin and Riccardo Muti with the Wiener Philharmonkier.  The duo opt for a broad but not especially slow opener, and Muti starts off with a fairly lush tutti that doesn't sound worlds apart from Fluffy, though Muti keeps things more classical in feeling.  Repin enters and slows things down immediately, and he plays with a gorgeous tone.  And superb dynamic control.  He sort of seems to be playing a romantic fantasy, and some of his upper register playing wanders off into introspective whispers and violin noodling, but it's really hard not to just love it.  (And who can resist the viola playing Muti gets out of the Vienna band?)  Repin more than a few times lets his playing almost recede into the background, to wonderful effect.  He plays the cadenza with an effortlessness that beguiles, and his double stops sound as sumptuous as anything else in the recording.  The Larghetto sounds even more beautiful, with Repin's tone so beautiful, his playing so sensitive and nuanced and even gentle, that one just sits enamored.  The ten minute timing demonstrates again how mere timings can't completely convey the overall impact; at times Repin suspends times, making it fade into oblivion, a trick I fancy, but he doesn't drag anything out.  Muti's accompaniment is as good as one would expect from a man who has made such a large part of his career letting others shine.  Repin nearly performs magic in the Rondo.  His playing sparkles, he plays with a perfect dancing rhythm, yet he never sees a need to go too fast (though he never plays too slow), and he's content to play lower in volume, aided by the recorded balance to be sure, and the whole thing just sounds fun and light and almost otherworldly.  Among modern recordings, it's the polar opposite of James Ehnes.  But this merely demonstrates why it is mandatory for avid listeners to listen to multiple versions of great works, so as to hear quite different yet equally compelling takes.  No doubt some people may find this recording too laid back.  Not me.  It's a masterpiece.

[Todd]

Takako Nishizaki and Kenneth Jean with the Slovak Philharmonic.  (So geographically close to a great orchestra . . .)  A couple minor recorded balance issues aside, the orchestral opening is fine, and Nishizaki's entrance is delicate and beautiful.  She's no barnstormer, and she clearly does not generate a big sound like, say, Zukerman, but that's OK, because as she continues on in her comfortably paced Allegro ma non troppo, it turns out that a gentler Beethoven concerto has its attractions.  Her tone and style seem better suited to modern instrument chamber ensemble, but it works here.  After playing a nice but hardly dazzling cadenza and wrapping up the first movement, the performance moves to the Larghetto which is the heart of the work here.  Not overdone in terms of romanticism, it is precisely Nishizaki's small, elegant, gentle sound that carries the movement and the work.  It's not barnstorming Beethoven, nor is it background Beethoven.  It's, well, it's feminine Beethoven, and I rather like it.  YMMV.  The Presto reprises the overall mien of the opening movement, with just a smidge more pep, and closes out a coherent conception, if not a top five choice.  It's nice to have.

[Todd]

Yehudi Menuhin and Wilhelm Furtwängler with the Philharmonia.  Here's another recording I'd not listened to since sometimes in the noughties.  Menuhin's playing has never really clicked with me, and revisiting both reminds me of why.  To be sure, Furtwängler opens with a tutti that sounds grand AF, as one expects, and he never abandons that style.  Menuhin enters sounding much better than, say, Stern, and he plays nicely enough.  But here's the thing, when following something as well played as what Repin offers, or as commanding as Ehnes, or even Milstein, Menuhin doesn't offer any deep insights, and his playing never sounds quite as secure as those three, to name just three.  The Larghetto sounds nice enough, and while not particularly slow, it just doesn't seem to do much.  The Rondo is somewhat relaxed and fun, but it is basically Furtwängler's show.  The whole recording is.  I wish it was more than a meh, but it's not.

[Todd]

I'm mortified to report that until this survey, I did not own Hilary Hahn's recording with David Zinman.  I just don't know what to write.  Zinman opens the Allegro at a nice clip, boldly, but ultimately tight, crisp, and classical.  Hahn, as expected, seems to more less dash it off, and she keeps things fairly light and classical.  It's basically Mozart on steroids.  And that's just fine, because when she dashes off the cadenza like it ain't nothin', it's real-deal hypervirtuosity married to proper musical vision.  (I've seen her play both the Tchaikovsky and Nielsen in person, and anyone who doubts she can play at least as well in person as on this disc needs to hear her in person.)  Given the violinist's approach, the Larghetto doesn't veer into romanticism, which is not to say that Hahn's playing lacks expression, it's just more tightly controlled.  Zinman underscores a few items in the accompaniment to great effect, and then the duo close out with a Rondo that fairly dances along, and sometimes it's as zippy as anything Heifetz or Milstein might dare.  And dig the detail in the winds!  Yep, it's a corker.  With Hahn, it's just a matter of whether she's one of the best or the best.  Here it's a top ten contender.

[Brian]

(I've seen her play both the Tchaikovsky and Nielsen in person, and anyone who doubts she can play at least as well in person as on this disc needs to hear her in person.) 

Sigh...she came to town to do Sibelius, but it was last month, for a crowd controlled audience of only about 200 that I, choosing not to subscribe to the full season after covid struck, wasn't allowed to get tickets for.

[Todd]

Sigh...she came to town to do Sibelius, but it was last month, for a crowd controlled audience of only about 200 that I, choosing not to subscribe to the full season after covid struck, wasn't allowed to get tickets for.

There's always 2022 or 2023.  Or later.

[Todd]

Sticking with Zinman for stick waving duties, the soloist is swapped out for Christian Tetzlaff in one of the more remarkable super-budget releases out there.  The Allegro is zippy at under 23', and Zinman sounds similar in approach, though the Zurich band sounds leaner than the Baltimore one.  That suits Tetzlaff's lean, clean sound.  Of course he plays with exactitude and control and a precise if cool sound.  He pushes forward constantly, too, which Zinman matches, with beefier timps and a feeling that borders on relentless, with a martial, march-like cadence to some playing.  If Hahn/Zinman is Mozart of steroids, Tetzlaff/Zinman is Mozart on steroids, HGH, and some forbidding stimulants.  Zinman opts for an augmented 61a cadenza with lots of taut timp playing, and yes Tetzlaff delivers a predictably fine supervirtuosic take.  After the hard-charging opener, the Larghetto is more relaxed, but only marginally, since it comes in under 9'.  It's taut and unsentimental and while lovely, it's also a touch stern.  The Rondo is quick and taut, though it sounds faster than its timing suggests.  Tetzlaff again delivers tip-top-shelf playing, and Zinman keeps up in every regard.  While I very much appreciate what Tetzlaff does, it almost seems too much.  It's like a more flexible, yet also more stern, more sober Heifetz that's far too serious for anything like flash.

[amw]

I will say I really like that version, although I'm not sure whether or not I prefer it to the Tetzlaff/Gielen version (also a former super-budget version although I think now only available in one of the Gielen boxes).

[Jo498]

I have not heard (or at least do not own) Tetzlaff/Zinman, but Tetzlaff/Gielen is a favorite. It was also available in a German midprice EMI series in the late 1990s or so. According to the track times Tetzlaff went back to a more traditional slow larghetto than before.

[André]

I have not heard (or at least do not own) Tetzlaff/Zinman, but Tetzlaff/Gielen is a favorite. It was also available in a German midprice EMI series in the late 1990s or so. According to the track times Tetzlaff went back to a more traditional slow larghetto than before.

Yes, that Tetzlaff/Gielen is superb.

[Jo498]

clarification: The young Tetzlaff with Gielen has a comparably swift larghetto (I'd still like to hear an even faster one but nobody dares, why not have a range similar to the adagietto in Mahler 5), the one with Zinman has about 9 min. as fairly common.

[Todd]

Sticking with Tetzlaff for violin, but swapping in Robin Ticciati and the Deutsche Symphonie-Orchester Berlin.  the band opens forcefully and without any unforced errors, and the Tetzlaff enters with a sort of executive perfection and detachment that is something to hear.  It's austere as austere can be, all about supreme execution in every facet of playing, but it lacks feeling.  While the overall timing falls on the zippy side, Tetzlaff somehow manages to slow down time while playing.  It may have too much surface perfection, as if to turn the music into a museum piece, but even more than with artists like Steven Osborne.  The band offers a massive, modern wallop in the tuttis, aided by stellar sound.  If that makes it seem like I dislike the Allegro ma non troppo, the opposite is the case.  This is the archetype for a perfect, modern conception, which Tetzlaff reinforces with his perfect to a fault cadenza.  In the Larghetto, Tetzlaff again sounds slower than he plays and he achieves something that some great interpreters do in the Adagio of 106 by creating an ice cold, almost desolate sound at times, though here one marvels at just how perfectly he controls pianissimo playing more than the loud stuff.  Then, seeming to offer as much contrast as possible, Tetzlaff and Ticciati deliver an almost ridiculously fast and precise Rondo, with Tetzlaff going all virtuoso and rips through the music, with the band following in suit.  Absolutely superb.

[Todd]

Aaron Rosand and Derrick Inouye (?) and the Monte Carlo Philharmonic.  One of the swiftest Allegros in the survey nonetheless doesn't sound rushed at all.  Rather, the tuttis sound comfortable.  Rosand even more so.  In rather stark contrast to both Heifetz and Tetzlaff, Rosand plays quickly but keeps things light and flowing and just more pleasant, which is not to say soft or wimpy.  His tone sounds most appealing, too, and some of his ascending passages sound just nifty, though of the earthy rather than ethereal sort.  I definitely mean that as mere comment, not criticism.  True, the orchestra doesn't offer the luster of more famous bands, and the recording, while good, wasn't late 90s SOTA, lacking especially in satisfying dynamic range, but everything works well enough.  The cadenzas are nicely done, but rather than blow the listener away with pyrotechnics, Rosand delivers something more human and direct.  The Larghetto likewise comes in at a brisk 9'05", but it never remotely sounds too fast.  There's a sense of comfort in the playing, somehow.  It's unique among the versions in this survey.  Sure, it lacks the deepest depths, again going for something more earthy, but that's OK.  The Rondo finishes things off in quick, light, snappy, fun fashion.  It delights.  Ultimately, this recording doesn't have the polish or ravishing beauty or ideal mix of soloist and orchestra of the best versions, but it's maybe the best of the second fiddle versions.

[Jo498]

As for brisk, I'd love to hear the larghetto in about 6:00-6:30 but I am unlikely to, unless I manipulate some existing recordings electronically myself. The most flowing I have is Tetzlaff/Gielen at about 7:37 and there are a few others below 9 min. But this is still more largo than larghetto (a term used apparently sometimes interchangeably with "andante" by Beethoven, cf. the fastish larghetto in the 2nd symphony).

[André]

Rosand's is a favourite version. It's fresh, unpretentious and totally natural, while displaying great artistry.

[Todd]

Reaching way back in time, Josef Wolfsthal and Manfred Gurlitt with the Berlin Philharmonic go next.  Wolfsthal was something of a Wunderkind who stayed that way, having died at 31.  This recording is buried in Volume 20, Historic Recordings, of the last DG Beethoven Edition, and was recorded in 1929.  The majors do have some advantages that newer labels can never match.  Anyway, the first thing one notices is the super-peppy tempo of the Allegro ma non troppo, coming in at under 22 minutes.  The timp sounds pretty big, and the sound is distant and dark, but the ears adjust.  Wolfsthal's entrance is light, pure, and clean.  He plays without tons of vibrato, and even in the context of an early electrical era recording, his tone sounds small.  Rather than let some notes linger, he tends to be abrupt.  There's an elegance and reserve, but also an old-fashioned sound and sweetness, all while staying light and quick, that's quite fine.  Where Wolfsthal sets himself apart from the pack is in the cadenza.  It's by Joseph Joachim, and Wolfsthal plays it with gusto, a rustic sensibility combined with urbane hyper-sophistication, and brazenly virtuosic flair.  Yowza!  The Larghetto stays on the taut side, but also sounds very beautiful.  It's an almost perfect blend of classical restraint and romantic beauty, and it flows so perfectly that time becomes no issue at all - it's not too fast, it's not too slow, it's just right, and it has just the right dollops of portamento.  Wolfsthal opts to take the Rondo at a nice tempo that sounds more leisurely than it actually is, which is quite a treat!  He and the orchestra sort of bounce along, and then Wolfsthal soars - but not too much - and somehow one senses the structural inevitability of everything that is coming while it still sounds fresh.  It is easy to listen past ancient sonics and just enjoy this recordings.  Just superb.  Wolfsthal is one of the great "what-ifs" of the recorded era.

[André]

Manfred Gurlitt was a very fine composer. His take on the Büchner shocker Wozzeck is very, very good. He had an extensive conducting career.

[Jo498]

I have probably listened to it only twice but the Wolfsthal/Gurlitt was a main reason for me to get that DG historical box several years ago (the others were the Fricsay/Fischer disc and the 9th with Busch).

[Todd]

Kyung-Wha Chung and Kirill Kondrashin, with Vienna in the background.  The leisurely tempo Kondrashin opts for in the the opening of the Allegro, with heaps of vibrato, sets the stage for Chung.  She starts off slow and attractive, then plays the ascending passage nicely, but as she descends she creates a musical effect where her playing floats down like a leaf.  Nice.  When she gently and slowly ascends again, it sounds light and ethereal and lovely.  She handles the cadenza nicely enough, and the entire movement has a flowing and inevitable feel.  Chung and Kondrashin play the Larghetto at a relaxed 9'51", but it maintains a nice degree of tension, and Chung plays with no little beauty.  The Rondo is likewise a bit relaxed, and if anything, Chung really delivers on her approach, playing quite splendidly.  It's strange, and I can't put my finger on it, but Chung obviously plays well and some of her personal touches are quite lovely (eg, that descending passage in the Allegro), but overall the recording doesn't click with me. 

[Todd]

Lisa Batiashvili conducting the Deutsche Kammerphilharmonie Bremen.  The young and bold Ms Batiashvili leads the closely recorded small band in such a way as to make it sound not so small.  The opening tutti has ample drive and oomph, and then it cedes to her as she takes over.  And she does some fine things.  She comes close to matching Chung's descending playing, and she keeps everything under exact control at all times.  Her tone is attractive, and she nails everything.  While not speedy, there's an inevitable forward momentum much of the time that lends energy without tipping into a potentially overbearing nature like Tetzlaff's approach in his first recording.  Unsurprisingly, Batiashvili has no problem dispatching a clean and sometimes vigorous, sometimes attractive cadenza.  The Larghetto is taken at a fairly brisk tempo and Batiashvili again plays very nicely, generating some truly lovely pianissimo playing, but here there's something of a lack of overall expression or depth.  The Rondo is paced at a comfortable tempo, like the opener, yet it sounds quicker than it is, and the benefits of a chamber orchestra become clear as little details pop out more.  (Paavo Järvi had already helped forge the chamber orchestra into a high end ensemble, so Ms Batiashvili's backing is of the super-able variety throughout.)  Batiashvili revs up her playing to good effect, coming more alive in the faster passages.  Overall, this is a solid take in superb sound.  I was happy to hear that Ms Batiashvili can direct well, too.  Perhaps she and her husband can find a work transcribed for both their instruments and they can have a conduct-off.