The world of music
seems to be rife with the tragically
youthful deaths of its brightest stars.
Pergolesi and Purcell in the seventeenth
century, Mozart in the eighteenth, Mendelssohn
and Schubert in the nineteenth. The
twentieth century did not see the passing
of as many composers before their time,
but there was a plethora of great performers
taken from us long before they should
have been, among them: tenors Fritz
Wunderlich and Jussi Björling,
pianists William Kapell and Dinu Lipatti,
conductors Guido Cantelli and Thomas
Schippers, and violinists Ginette Neveu
and Michael Rabin.
The latter, Mr. Rabin,
has since his untimely and accidental
death, become a bit of a cult figure,
a hero to many a violinist and lover
of the instrument. A child prodigy,
he was heralded by such luminaries as
George Szell and Dmitri Mitropoulos
as the most gifted violin virtuoso that
these great conductors had ever heard.
Alas, his recorded
legacy is limited mostly to the virtuoso
violin repertoire popular on the concert
platforms of his era, and great though
these recordings are, the music itself
often lacks the kind of substance worthy
of a musician that was so gifted both
in technique and expressive interpretive
skills. Thus, these recordings of two
significant sonatas, taken from broadcasts
of RIAS Berlin are particularly valuable
and welcome in these their first commercial
releases.
Opening with Beethoven’s
eighth sonata, Rabin’s playing is completely
effortless, his technical command of
his instrument completely assured and
his tone is rich and lovely. He tears
into the opening Allegro with great
élan, and the pure joyousness
of his playing is infectious. The minuet
is elegant and the final allegro bursts
off the pages. This is playing of such
high order that we can only mourn the
fact that he never recorded a complete
set of Beethoven’s sonatas. What a treasure
that would have been.
Fauré’s life
was one of peaceful contentment and
this serenity is borne out in nearly
every work he composed. No exception
to the rule is this magnificently tuneful
sonata, packed with elegant melodies
and rich, not quite romantic and not
quite impressionistic harmonies. Again,
the performances are flawless, Rabin
sailing through the tuneful score like
a kite flying in the breeze, completely
without strain and carefree. Special
mention should also be made of Lothar
Broddack’s excellent pianism. In these
studio performances, he doesn’t miss
a single note, and the playing is as
expressive and sonorously rich as any
Casadesus, Rubinstein or other great
master of chamber music playing from
the day.
Sadly, the microphone
placement (or is it the restoration
by Jacob Harnoy?) tends to favor the
violin, and although the piano sound
is quite satisfactory given the conditions
under which it was recorded, it is still
not as crisp and clear as one would
have hoped. Small qualm this though
as the sheer beauty of the playing here
overcomes any engineering problem. I
would be interested to hear Mr. Harnoy’s
comments as to the balance and clarity
issues he encountered as he prepared
this disc.
We get a nice little
bonus in the Paganini, recorded when
Rabin was all of fourteen, in this arrangement
of the Caprice in E-flat, arranged for
orchestral accompaniment by Maestro
Voorhees. Sound quality from the old
television soundtrack is less than optimal,
but it does give us a good idea of just
how good Rabin was at so young an age!
Program notes are minimal
and say nothing about the music. It
surely would not have been too difficult
to scare up some information on the
works themselves, now would it? Otherwise,
an absolutely splendid disc, and I for
one cannot wait for the next volumes
in the series. A most welcome addition
to the Rabin lore!
Kevin Sutton
see also
review by Jonathan Woolf
Michael Rabin, violin 
