Brana continues 
                  its reclamation of the 1960s and 1970s recordings of Polish-born 
                  Felicja Blumental with this, the first of a two volume ‘Italian 
                  Concerto’ series. The second volume couples the B flat major 
                  of Manfredini with two by Paisiello and this earlier volume 
                  symmetrically shackles the big Viotti with two much smaller 
                  and more intimate works by Giovanni Benedetto Piatti. 
                The 
                  Viotti is actually a transcription of the Nineteenth Violin 
                  Concerto, in which form it will be better known, at least by 
                  initiates of Viotti’s extensive portfolio of concertos, some 
                  of them Golden Age warhorses. This doesn’t quite apply to the 
                  Nineteenth, which has been rather passed over. It’s a big work, 
                  certainly, lasting here all of thirty-nine minutes which is 
                  far too long for the actual material. Though the opening movement 
                  begins promisingly with a strong martial feel, it soon falls 
                  away into rather static bluster and even Blumental and the loyal 
                  Zedda can do little with it, even though the slow movement has 
                  a certain Mozartian lightness and animation. The best of the 
                  three movements is the finale; well sprung, lyrical, well laid 
                  out but again too long. 
                It’s 
                  actually the Piatti Concertos that prove more welcome, especially 
                  the compact Largo of the G major which is wistful, classical 
                  and altogether winning; as indeed is what sounds like the guitar 
                  underpinning of the same concerto’s finale. Piatti could really 
                  cultivate grazioso – as he does in the Andantino opener of the 
                  C minor – a gracious molto mosso indeed. But the highlight 
                  of the concerto and indeed of the disc has to be the ravishing 
                  aria of the Adagio, the beauty of which derives immediately 
                  from the hushed string introduction and is continued by Blumental’s 
                  pellucid phrasing. Gorgeous.
                Playing 
                  and recording are above par – sometimes these ex-Vox LPs were 
                  scrappily enthusiastic but not here. Neat, tidy and affectionate. 
                  
                Jonathan 
                  Woolf