Here are two magnificent
concerti that have become staple constituents
of any accomplished violinist’s repertoire.
There are so many great interpretations
of these that on this occasion I am
not going to elaborate with a comparative
criticism. What I will say is that Zukerman
makes this music his own, and he does
so with the utmost musical conviction.
The CD is heralded
by the glorious Brahms violin concerto
in d minor. Brahms, let it be noted,
lived his compositional career in the
shadow of his great predecessor, Beethoven.
Throughout his life, Brahms struggled
(within himself) to live up to Beethoven's
musical legacy and although it is tempting
to place Brahms’s innovative and complex
vocabulary in the late Romantic era
exclusively, it is important to bear
in mind his commitment to the classical
tradition.
Zukerman’s fiery and
yet immaculately controlled interpretation
holds up a perfect mirror to the composer
disciplining his ardent romantic impulse.
That Zukerman contains the lushness
of Brahms’s concerto in an unapologetically
resilient forward drive, and that he
is constantly challenged by an equally
affirmative orchestral force makes for
an terribly exciting rendition. Neither
soloist nor orchestra is intimidated
by the other so that when they play
in confrontation, the effect is truly
powerful. At the other end, when both
parties sing in mutual support, the
tenderness is sublime.
Zukerman’s opening
of the Brahms concerto is exquisite
in its poise and restraint. Indeed,
the sensual climax is reserved for the
lyrical second subject with plucked
bass accompaniment: the emotion here
is not derived from any overly romanticised
gesture, but from an innocence and delicacy
that exudes from the musical notes themselves.
By refraining from overstating the drama,
Zukerman and Mehta allow the music itself
to emote.
Bruch’s violin concerto
in g minor was written ten years earlier,
in 1868. This composition was a struggle
for Bruch who, unlike Brahms, laboured
over the concerto for several months
and produced a number of versions before
settling on his final draft. What Brahms
and Bruch do share, however, is the
help of Hungarian violinist Joseph Joachim,
who in each case advised on the technical
front and premiered the concerti under
each composer’s baton.
As with his Brahms
rendition, Zukerman never stoops to
the gratuitous sickly-sentimental. His
dignified and crisply clean execution
of the cadenza-like opening sets the
attitude of a performance that is uncompromisingly
brilliant.
The boldness and freshness
of Zukerman’s touch will no doubt draw
a welcome sigh of relief from those
listeners who have had their fill of
this much-popularised piece of music.
My only criticism of
this CD is the booklet. It offers a
sadly oversimplified and awkward note
on the Romantic musical era and the
compositions at hand. Instead of some
information on the artists and the performances,
we are presented with a cluster of dictionary-definition
extracts.
Watch out for meaningless
phrases such as "…the Classical
balance between emotion and intellect
gave way to emotional music in which
poetic and metaphysical elements also
played their part" and "…[the
romantic period], that period of diversity
and contradictions". As far as
contradictions go, the only one I am
aware of in this context is that, while
the packaging lacks in style and relevance,
the musical performances do not!
Aline Nassif
Pinchas Zukerman (violin) 