Canadian violinist James Ehnes writes in the booklet for this 
                  release about how special making these recordings has been to 
                  him. The expressive warmth and synergy between soloist, orchestra 
                  and conductor is startlingly apparent from the beginning. Ehnes 
                  also admits to their being ‘tremendously difficult’, which is 
                  something relevant to the orchestra as well as the soloist, 
                  as evidenced by the ‘on the edge’ horns 7:07 into the first 
                  movement of the first concerto – in fact the only very minor 
                  smudge I spotted on this set of marvellously presented performances. 
                  
                  
                  You may think these recordings have been ‘cut’ very low to start 
                  with, but the huge width of the dynamic range in the recording 
                  demands caution with the volume control. The orchestral sonorities 
                  open out beautifully in that opening Adagio sostenuto, 
                  and the punchy rhythms of the following Allegro giocoso shock 
                  you out of the reverie in an instant. This is playing of the 
                  first order. I’m not ashamed to say there were always moments 
                  in all of these concertos which brought a tear to my eye, and 
                  I remember experiencing similar emotions just reading the manuscript 
                  pages visible under glass when I dropped by the Bartók museum 
                  in Budapest many years ago. This recording has me discovering 
                  all kinds of new places where the emotions churn and my diminutive 
                  sense of scale as a creative person is once more rammed into 
                  perspective. 
                  
                  The Violin Concerto No. 2 is a central work in all senses 
                  of the word, and Ehnes plays with authority and strength as 
                  well as poetic and lyrical sensitivity. His violin on this recording 
                  is a 1715 Stradivarius, the “Marsick”, which on its own doesn’t 
                  mean much, but the purity of the high tones in the sound is 
                  remarkably fine. The balance between soloist and orchestra is 
                  also good: somewhat idealised in favour of Ehnes if imagining 
                  a concert-hall experience but not stretching credibility too 
                  much and mostly very well in proportion. The Andante tranquillo 
                  of the second movement always makes me melt on the spot, 
                  and I admire Ehnes’s restraint here, giving the notes a confidingly 
                  conversational quality rather than imposing extra layers of 
                  lyricism. The subdued drama in this movement is a different 
                  world in this recording, and the word ‘moving’ hardly does it 
                  justice. The way this movement ends is some of the most wonderful 
                  music you will ever hear. 
                  
                  Commissioned by legendary Scottish violist William Primrose, 
                  the Viola Concerto remained incomplete when Bartók died 
                  in 1945. The edition used here is that by Tibor Serly, the first 
                  to make a complete version and, as a musician closest to the 
                  composer, considered the most authoritative. The more earthy 
                  tones of the viola tell most in the lower registers as you would 
                  imagine, but in the upper range the 1793 Guadagnini instrument 
                  is closer to a violin sound than you might expect. Touches in 
                  the music are a reminder of another of Bartók’s last works, 
                  the superb Concerto for Orchestra, but with searching 
                  explorations of the enigmatic theme in the first movement this 
                  is a more introspective experience. This is a more ‘tricky’ 
                  piece than the violin concerti, but the orchestra has tremendous 
                  fun with its little filigree corners, and the momentary changes 
                  of mood are taken with utter commitment. 
                  
                  There are a few alternatives about for this set of concertos, 
                  and I have a good deal of affection for Yehudi Menuhin’s earthily 
                  honest recordings with Antal Dorati, now available on EMI Gemini 
                  with the two Rhapsodies and a few other duos and the solo Sonata. 
                  Menuhin’s vibrato does sound a bit dated now, and his intonation 
                  in the very upper reaches is a bit vague at times when compared 
                  with Ehnes, but the Hungarian feel of the orchestral rhythms 
                  is compelling. I also have a good deal of time for Midori and 
                  Zubin Mehta on Sony Classical, and Josef Suk’s recording of 
                  the first concerto with the Berg concerto is another old favourite. 
                  
                  
                  With well written and informative booklet notes by Paul Griffiths 
                  this release is the total package when it comes to Bartók’s 
                  violin and viola concerti. The BBC Philharmonic plays its heart 
                  out for Gianandrea Noseda, as they did for the excellent piano 
                  concertos CD (see review). 
                  All further comment aside, this is one of my discs of the year. 
                  
                  
                  Dominy Clements 
                See also review by Nick 
                  Barnard