Taking a look
at the repertoire essayed in his second disc by young Slovak
violinist Miroslav Ambroš I thought idly of his esteemed
near-compatriot Jan Kubelík. Sarasate, Paganini, Wieniawski,
Spohr, Bazzini and a leavening of Kreisler and Suk all have
a distinctly old school patina, and a very Kubelík one at
that. The Suk is actually an arrangement by our own contemporary
Josef Suk of the Fairy Tale form the suite Raduz and
Mahulena. And there is one novelty in the shape of Dza
more – Gypsy Ballad a brief but tangy 1991 piece by
Sylvie Bodorová, one of the Czech Lands’ most impressive
composers. But the general direction is otherwise late nineteenth
century and generally of a barnstorming profile.
It could hardly
really be otherwise when he includes those two staples of
the travelling virtuoso’s knapsack, the Paganini Moses
Fantasy and Sarasate’s Concert Fantasy on Faust.
Violin operatic transcriptions and paraphrases have
long been out of favour so it’s quite daring for Ambroš
to dust them down, though the pleasures are more gymnastic
and titillating than musical. It’s when we turn to the remainder
of his programme that we can better assess his playing.
Full marks to
him for digging out Sarasate’s Jota Aragonesa, which
has been largely ignored in the last half century. He plays
this with acumen but comparison with an old timer such as
the Spaniard Manuel Quiroga shows how much individuality
of vibrato and rhythm a master can bestow on even the smallest
piece. The Paganini Cantabile is played with warmth
and feeling as is the Spohr. I’m not aware that anyone has
ever recorded this with the sole exception of an old 78
by Marjorie Hayward. The lyric intensity and impassioned
feeling he finds in Bodorová – a solo violin piece – is
impressive.
His Kreisler
is very slightly gauche and a real young man’s performance,
which is not surprising as he was barely nineteen when he
recorded it. There’s rather too much vibrato too early on
and a slight stylistic exaggeration that shows he’s not
yet within the idiom. Some slightly rough bowing also counts
against the performance. It’s hardly his fault that he lacks,
say, Shumsky’s gracioso charm and penetrating style.
It’s still rather too early for a sense of optimum projection
in the Wieniawski. He lacks a certain savoir-faire and oratorical
drama and, for example, the young Ida Haendel’s nasal incision.
It’s unfortunate that I dug out the Bazzini contained in
the Perlman Rediscovered disc and listened to this
alongside the Ambroš; as well as being a full minute quicker
Perlman, at roughly the same age as the Slovak, is in incandescent
form; Ambroš rather shrivels in the comparison. If you’re
going to live up to this disc’s title less circumspection
is certainly needed.
Ambroš has a
rather familiar habit of some fiddlers, which is a distracting
sniff. He’s accompanied, very thoughtfully, by his mother
Zuzana Ambrošová. The Martinů Hall in the Lichtenstein
Palace in Prague is a well-known recording location and
serves well here. A young man to watch no doubt but it’s
a little early to decide where he’s going. The Šporcl route
of bandana-wearing virtuosity is probably not Ambroš’s way,
which is no bad thing. The performance list on his own site
shows an as yet narrow repertoire so let’s hope it will
be judiciously and intelligently augmented in the years
to come.
Jonathan
Woolf
Miroslav Ambroš (violin)
for
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