Glazunov: Violin Concerto opus 82
Peter Tchaikovsky: Valse-scherzo opus 34
Peter Tchaikovsky: Souvenir d'un lieu cher opus 42
Russian National Orchestra
Mikhail Pletnev (conductor)
Gil Shaham (violin)
Easily the most substantial work in this enjoyably light-hearted programme is the Glazunov Violin Concerto, still generally undervalued because of its conservative idiom. Not that Shaham’s account is in any way radical. After Maxim Vengerov’s intense and penetrating Teldec version, Shaham’s sounds relaxed and smoochy, his warm-toned instrument set somewhat closer than the orchestra in the wide open spaces of the Great Hall of the Moscow Conservatory. The generous romantic manner almost but not quite conceals a few moments of suspect intonation that Jascha Heifetz would never have passed.
Unlike the Glazunov, Kabalevsky’s work is in three separate, small-scale movements. One of his ‘youth’ concertos, it dates from 1948, the year in which most of his peer group faced ideological censure. It isn’t great music, and yet there is a natural, unforced quality about its invention that stands up well enough. The slow movement is memorable (despite its casual appropriation of the ‘wind in the graveyard’ effect from Prokofiev’s First Violin Sonata) and the watered-down Prokofiev of the rest is by no means unattractive. The orchestral playing here is impressively clean and often radiantly beautiful.
The Tchaikovsky Souvenir d’un lieu cher is heard in Glazunov’s orchestration and the Valse-scherzo wraps things up in skittering, suitably dazzling fashion. Although room might have been found for something more, one can see why this was felt to be the right item with which to close. Heard live, such a performance would bring the house down.
Gramophone, March 1998
Gil Shaham’s sound gleams and flashes through the acrobatic cavortings of Kabalevsky’s Concerto. The remarkable flute-like effect produced in the rapid, quiet runs in the second movement is as magical as his legerdemain elsewhere is scintillating. Shaham’s sound revives memories of Nathan Milstein; so, too, does the confidently aristocratic demeanour he brings to the other works heard here.
The Tchaikovsky pieces can stand the treatment – lovely as they are, they ramble and repeat themselves if not played with resourceful affection or brio (although surely there’s more inwardness in the ‘Mélodie’ than this forthright rendition suggests).
Shaham and Pletnev offer a scrupulous account of the Glazunov Concerto which, despite some ecstatic moments in the central movement, seems more posed than genuinely expressive; for my taste, the result lacks both impetus and cohesion. In general, Shaham’s inflections are timbral and dynamic rather than rhythmic in nature; the Tchaikovsky and Glazunov could stand more gestural profile. Pletnev hums along in spots, soloist and orchestra aren’t precisely coordinated at a tempo change or two, and Shaham’s intonation in double-stopped passages sometimes falls short of the ideal. But if you like sleek, high-energy playing, this disc is an exciting one.
David Breckbill
BBC Music Magazine