A rather mean repackaging of two of Kabalevsky’s concertos
Nowadays Kabalevsky tends to be remembered more in his role as mildly disreputable apparatchik than as a composer. Which is a shame, because his uncomplicated, well-crafted music testifies to not dishonourable motives – to compose affirmatively, in the classical tradition, for mass consumption. That ideal deserves not to be forgotten or sneered at, and I for one certainly do not begrudge these two concertos their recording by high-class professional artists (making this a natural companion disc to the same soloists’ Khachaturian concertos for Chandos).
That said, and despite its having attracted the advocacy of Lydia Mordkovitch’s teacher Oistrakh, the Violin Concerto is flimsy stuff – more fodder for trainee violinists than a viable concert work. Although the Second Cello Concerto has higher aspirations, evident in its darker emotional tone, it would be a generous soul who would claim that it entirely lives up to them. Raphael Wallfisch, it should be said, plays the work with tremendous conviction.
Chandos’s sound quality is rich yet natural. But surely this recoupling should not be at full-price, especially given that the duration is even shorter than the original releases?
David Fanning
Gramophone, May 2003
Kabalevsky's Violin concerto is a jaunty affair full of the same vibrant energy that characterizes his ballet music - particularly the finale, which in its rollicking gaiety is reminiscent of the composer's ever-popular The Comedians. The solo part is playful and virtuosic, with rapid runs that require substantial agility and dexterity, of which Lydia Mordkovitch provides both in ample measure. Neeme Järvi leads the Scottish National Symphony in a boisterously rendered accompaniment.
Cello Concerto No. 2 comes from another world entirely, opening in a dark and somber atmosphere not dissimilar to the first movement of Shostakovich's Violin Concerto No. 1. The cello offers a grim pizzicato statement of the work's main melody, a plangent tune touched by intimations of the Dies Irae. The music becomes brighter and more frenzied for the bristling scherzo, only to darken again for the powerful finale, which ends with resigned restatement of the opening melody. Raphael Wallfisch launches boldly into Kabalevsky's challenging solo writing, and his vivid projection of the music's troubled emotions is skillfully aided by Bryden Thomson and the London Philharmonic. Chandos provides sonorous, dynamically realistic recordings for both works.
Victor Carr Jr
Classics Today