Not a week seems to go by without another Julia 
                  Fischer release from PentaTone. With this one she returns to 
                  the scene of her first discographic triumph with this label, 
                  her triptych of Russian concertos – Khachaturian, Prokofiev 
                  and Glazunov – and gives us an all-Tchaikovsky collection. The 
                  world is not short of recordings of the concerto, from Elman 
                  and Heifetz to the latest wunderkind but it’s not a work I much 
                  associate with German players. Certainly Kulenkampff’s 1930s 
                  slant on it was highly original but of well-known modern players 
                  only Hoelscher, Tetzlaff, Franz Peter Zimmermann and Mutter 
                  (twice) have essayed it on disc and none of them with any great 
                  success. I should add that PentaTone are in competition with 
                  themselves. The Tetzlaff recording is also available on this 
                  label with the same orchestra as this one, though conducted 
                  by Kent Nagano – it’s coupled with Lugansky’s performance of 
                  the composer’s Piano Concerto No.1. 
                
So here’s Fischer 
                  in a disc presumably intended gradually entirely to supplant 
                  the Tetzlaff. The orchestra and conductor are clearly congenial 
                  colleagues and disc-mates. The performance is attractive but 
                  to me flawed with little moments of self-consciousness. I’d 
                  hoped for more when she began. She has a fine, core tone, capable 
                  of variety of colours. And she certainly avoids Joshua Bell’s 
                  cloyingly manicured intimacy in his second recording with Tilson 
                  Thomas, one I thoroughly disliked. But problems start at 4:11 
                  with some very mannered slowing down and hushed phrasing. One 
                  wouldn’t want to characterise this as over perfumed playing 
                  nor indeed feminine – where does that leave Bell? – but the 
                  headily rubato-laden phrasing throughout the first movement 
                  begins to sound increasingly like indulgence. It doesn’t sound, 
                  to me at least, like a cohesive response to the music – Elman 
                  after all was a past master of rubato here but he knew the thing 
                  from the inside. From 15:00 she fines down her tone to a whisper 
                  as the orchestra’s rather lethargic sounding winds join her. 
                  Yakov Kreizberg’s conducting here is oddly run-of-the-mill. 
                  The second movement improves precisely because there’s not enough 
                  room for leeway. And the variable wind playing – too much overdone 
                  or underdone at important points – improves still more for the 
                  finale. Unfortunately here I find the metrical displacements 
                  just as aggravating as in the first movement.
                
The Sérénade 
                  mélancolique is rather airy and a touch perfunctory, though 
                  here the forces seem keen to advance folkloric claims for this 
                  opus. Judged against Kogan this all sounds generic and under-inflected. 
                  The Souvenir d’un lieu cher sees the conductor at the 
                  piano stool. The playing is chaste and withdrawn and attractive 
                  – if that’s how you like your Tchaikovsky. I prefer the tone 
                  colours of a Kogan or an Oistrakh but I accept that this is 
                  not Fischer’s way.  
                
I auditioned this 
                  SACD on an ordinary set-up but I wasn’t aware, as I sometimes 
                  am, of any considerable advance in perspective. Not a bad disc 
                  but as Klemperer might have continued, not a good one either.
                
Jonathan Woolf