Don’t turn up your
volume if the opening of the Sibelius
sounds distant, for this is a recording
with a wide dynamic range (a little
too much in the Tchaikovsky, I thought)
and this opening is properly soft for
once. Indeed, it’s magical, the silvery
violin wafting in over the ethereal
string chords, and sets the tone for
a performance with plenty of space around
it, not lacking vitality but alive with
the majesty of nature. The finale is
not hurried, the "polonaise for
polar bears" (Tovey’s description)
implacable in its menace. All the same,
it is the poetry of the lonely open
spaces which lingers in the mind. Collaboration
with the conductor is close.
Much the same approach
informs the Tchaikovsky – the change
of conductor makes no apparent difference.
The orchestral tuttis in the first movements
may seem to you slower than usual, but
this is because the conductor is avoiding
the usual big difference between the
soloist’s main tempo and the orchestra’s.
There is no suggestion of heaviness
and I like the steadiness with which
it unfolds. However, in this concerto
the soloist is rather more generous
with his rubato, sometimes holding up
a single note in a phrase, so if you
have strong feelings about this then
be warned. In such romantic music I
thought it just within acceptable limits.
The "Canzonetta" is most touching
and the finale then takes off at a very
fast speed indeed. The episodes often
slow down considerably so again, if
you prefer the music dashing and dancing
right through, you have been warned.
Though there may not be any authority
for such a wide range of speeds, I must
say that these performers find a range
of expression in a movement which can
sometimes seem a bit lightweight. I
didn’t find this a display of prima
donna egoism – the performers sound
genuinely dedicated to the music.
I must say this was
a new violinist to me – the conductor
of the Sibelius was new to me too –
and we don’t get any information at
all, though the booklet gives quite
a full commentary on the music. But
don’t ever imagine that unknown performers
are necessarily inferior to known ones
– without displacing the time-honoured
favourite versions there’s abundant
poetry and musicianship here. I’ve tried
to describe the sort of performances
they are, so if what I’ve said above
appeals, you should find this a very
satisfying record.
Christopher Howell
Vadim Brodsky (violin) 
