These recordings act as testament to a musician whose Mozart bursts with
joy and life. Grumiaux's tone is sweet and his phrasing remarkably sensitive
and perceptive. It might seem odd to begin a review by discussing what appear
to be the set's 'fillers' (i.e. the Sonata recordings with Haskil), but there
is no denying that these fresh accounts are the highlight of this set. Recorded
in January 1956 (originally issued on ABL3141), these accounts represent
a meeting of like minds. Haskil, like Grumiaux, was known for her innate
musicality, and this is much in evidence here. Although she lightens her
tone (towards the forte-piano in intent), she maintains a singing legato
in the slow movements. The players seem as one, not only in the (definitely)
Presto finale of K526, but also in their reactions to each other in
the slow movements. It comes as no surprise that the pared down textures
of the Andante of K454, which can appear too stark, here are powerfully
emotive.
The main part of the set (in terms of sheer time, of course), is taken up
by the five concertos. Frequently seen as the poor relations of the piano
concertos, these pieces (all completed before December 1775) do benefit from
an approach of conviction such as Grumiaux brings. The accompaniments are
perhaps the stumbling block. They are very much of their time, sounding
over-blown, with a blurred bass. Robust might seem the most apt (kindest?)
description here, and there is a marked disjunction (a definite added heaviness)
if one listens to the Sonatas first. Despite some lovely individual
contributions, most notably some most affecting oboe playing in the first
movement of the third concerto, the orchestra seems shamed by Grumiaux's
obvious dedication to these works. This is most starkly heard in the fifth
concerto, where Mozart's compositional security is now total, the sunny key
of A major is out and Grumiaux radiates joy. However, Davis' sluggishness
serves to undermine this (am I imagining the LSO trying to join in the spirit
of the thing, being hampered by their conductor?).
Grumiaux gives the first two concertos their full due, bringing many fine
gradations of tone to the Andante of the Second and revealing real
depth in the Adagio of the First. A real test in concertos of this
period is always the cadenzas (just how far will your attention wander?).
Temporarily unaccompanied and free to express himself, Grumiaux's imagination
flies free and the results are consistently fascinating, whether the cadenzas
are by Grumiaux himself or, indeed, by Ysaÿe (as is the case in K216).
Recommended primarily for the Sonatas, therefore. The Concertos are definitely
worth hearing, mainly for Grumiaux's many insights: set, unfortunately, against
a generally grey background.
Colin Clarke
Artur Grumiaux (violin); Clara
Haskil (piano); London Symphony Orchestra/Colin Davis.
