AVAILABILITY 
                www.musicandarts.com 
              
This Memorial tribute to Yehudi Menuhin was issued 
                relatively soon after his death and its documentation consists 
                entirely of a lengthy and sympathetic obituary written by Allan 
                Kozin that appeared in The New York Times. The repertoire is strongly 
                associated with Menuhin and these additions to his discography 
                are in the main attractive, noble, elevated and impressive. There 
                is one exception, which is the Lalo, shorn of the Intermezzo and 
                indicative of some besetting faults in his technique but elsewhere 
                the 1945-58 recordings reflect well on him, though it can’t be 
                denied that ingrained frailties do recur. 
              
 
              
The Beethoven concerto dates from December 1945 
                and once past some poor broken octaves and what sounds like a 
                queasy side-join at 4.26 things settle down quite nicely. The 
                recording quality is otherwise quite acceptable for its date and 
                circumstances. The performance contains elements of Menuhin’s 
                loftiness and nobility of spirit, his tone still eloquent and 
                occasionally bewitching. Rodzinski contributes strongly though 
                his occasional brusqueness, whilst perhaps befitting Beethovenian 
                psychology, can tend toward the military. Accents can be trenchant 
                and brass can be unyielding. The Larghetto is really quite slow 
                with Menuhin vesting his paragraphs with increased tone colours 
                and vibrato. His intense expressivity, an inwardness amounting 
                almost to spiritual communion, is rapt in its stillness, though 
                the elegiac tone can be unvaried. In the finale Rodzinski is again 
                a little peremptory and Menuhin projects well, and even if some 
                sections hang fire fractionally this is still an impressive reading. 
              
 
              
The Bach Double, one of his favourites, sees 
                him paired not for the first or last time with David Oistrakh. 
                They are joined by the Enescu Philharmonic conducted by George 
                Georgescu, amongst whose many accomplishments was a thoroughly 
                sympathetic command of Strauss’s idiom. This is a grandly romantic 
                performance warmly greeted by the Bucharest audience whose enthusiasm 
                I share. The recording is rather stark but can’t efface the gorgeous 
                interplay between the two, Menuhin playing secundo by the way. 
              
 
              
The Bartók Second Concerto derives from 
                a Lucerne Festival performance in August 1947 in which he was 
                accompanied by L’Orchestre de la Suisse Romande conducted by Ernest 
                Ansermet. This was a work he recorded three times commercially, 
                twice with Dorati and in 1953 with Furtwängler. I believe 
                that this Ansermet performance, by six years the earliest known 
                example of Menuhin’s playing of the work, was once available on 
                a Bruno Walter Society LP. The discs begin rather roughly and 
                the sound is somewhat constricted but one can still listen through 
                these relative imperfections to hear Menuhin in a work so closely 
                associated with him. The opening movement is abundantly lyrical 
                and virtuosic, Menuhin shaping the line with intimacy and candour 
                and some real and vibrant playing graces the cadenza. True quite 
                a lot of orchestral detail is obscured, which makes a complete 
                enjoyment of this survival necessarily limited but in a release 
                devoted to the violinist one can but admire his intensely effulgent 
                tone and rhapsodic beauty in the Andante tranquillo as much as 
                his drive, élan and reflective generosity in the finale. 
                There is a 1978 San Francisco interview with Frederick Maroth 
                in which Menuhin reflects on his relationship with the composer 
                and characterises things in his pithy, unusual and thoughtful 
                way. 
              
 
              
I won’t say much about the Lalo. It’s in horribly 
                glassy and blowsy sound and Menuhin sounds uncomfortably close 
                to the mike. He’s anyway in poor form intonationally and technically, 
                sounding unhappy, coarse-toned and often playing sharp. Stick 
                with the Enescu 1932, or the Fournet or Goossens if you have them. 
                Aside from this aberration what remains – and I wouldn’t for a 
                moment seek to deny the vicissitudes of the middle and later years 
                – is a musician of nobility and breadth, whose humanity is generally 
                well-served by this memorial release. The Beethoven and Lalo have 
                previously appeared before but only in Japan, the Bach in Russia. 
                The Bartók is apparently a first release on CD. 
              
 
              
Jonathan Woolf