Mischa Elman signed a contract with Vanguard that led
to six LP recordings during the last decade of his life. One of the
fruits was an intriguing Khachaturian Concerto in Vienna and a remake
of the Mendelssohn as well as a series of vignette albums of which this
is one of the most enjoyable and affecting. As with almost all of the
violinist’s post-War recordings there is evidence – sometimes considerable
evidence – of slackening of both tonal fire and tempos. Though famed
for his leisurely approach to the repertoire the increasingly languid
speeds attest to the inevitable digital failings of old age. In this
1959 selection however there are still many felicities to admire that
lent Elman’s art such distinction over so many years. Listen to the
spicy finger position changes in the Massenet for instance or to the
emotive intensifications of the Arensky. There is some audacious rubato
in Traumerei but also some drooping at phrase endings that I find less
than sympathetic though I admire the considerable reserves of phrasal
sensitivity on which he relies to negotiate this repertoire. In Drigo’s
evergreen Valse Bluette he is rather solidly and implacably earthbound,
with a thinning tone and an ossifying tempo. Sulzer’s Sarabande however
was a great favourite of Elman’s - and also of Golden Age Violinists
in general – and we can hear in his playing the still living remnants
of the fervour of his lower strings as he brings an intense involvement
to the work. Sarasate’s Zigeunerweisen is a less than successful traversal.
He is guilty of some strange accenting and rhythmic displacements, as
if wanting to escape routine phraseology. The performance is almost
arthritically slow and disjunctive with an absence of the requisite
fire and brimstone necessary in this of all works. There is something
about the performance that seems, albeit constrained by Elman’s known
limitations and deficiencies, animated by a spirit of nose thumbing,
as if the violinist were poking fun at the speed merchants who routinely
dispatch Sarasate with almost contemptuous aplomb. Whatever the reason
this is a seriously poor performance.
Many of Elman’s finest qualities exist alongside the
worst in Schubert’s Ave Maria and Dvořák’s
Humoresque provides an opportunity to admire Joseph Seiger, Elman’s
loyal and excellent accompanist of many years, and one who once resisted
what he took to be a malicious poaching ploy by Elman’s despised one-time
rival, Jascha Heifetz. Seiger is felicitously and sympathetically
skittish here – with staccato accents which tend to distract from his
violinist partner’s more erratic and idiosyncratic phrasal ploys. Chopin’s
Nocturne gives us Elman’s practised finger slides – but at such a slow
and ponderous tempo that the work bloats itself like a whale beached
on the shore. Elman still has some pungent things to say in Schumann’s
Prophet Bird but for all his fervour here, as elsewhere, it’s inevitable
that one chooses instead to remember the violinistic titan whose incendiary
tone inspired two generations of violinists and enchanted countless
admirers around the world.
The Vanguard re-issues have been effected with care
and skill, using 24-bit digital high definition, retaining the original
sleeve design. Whatever cavils there are to be made regarding Elman’s
playing Vanguard couldn’t have done much better to perpetuate their
valuable series of discs and to keep alive the last recordings of a
mould breaking musician.
Jonathan Woolf
Mischa Elman, violin