Georgian violinist Elisabeth Batiashvili 
          is building up an enviable reputation for herself, and her collaboration 
          with the ever-musical Steven Osborne is clearly a fruitful one. No punches 
          pulled in the programme here; instead the audience was treated to three 
          major works by three major composers. Short timing, certainly, but in 
          terms of sheer demands on musicality, this was heavy going.
        
        Debussy’s Violin Sonata in G minor 
          (1916/7) was his last work and, as a representative of late Debussy, 
          has an elusive streak to it which is notoriously difficult to capture. 
          This makes it even trickier as the very first piece in a recital programme, 
          yet Batiashvili and Osborne went straight to the heart of the matter. 
          The only signs of any type of easing-in were some moments of hardening 
          of Batiashvili’s tone in forte, but that aside her sound was 
          in general very beautiful (she plays the 1709 Engleman Stradivarius). 
          Her technique was quite remarkable, as was Osborne’s, whose big sound 
          and beautiful weighting of sonorities was particularly praiseworthy 
          (he also played the piano part in the capricious ‘Intermède’ 
          as if it was first cousin to the ‘Minstrels’ Prélude). 
          An uncompromising beginning, then, which forced the audience into deep 
          and respectful concentration (the standard of performance demanded nothing 
          less).
        
        Prokofiev’s First Violin Sonata 
          in F minor, Op. 80 (1938-46), a work dedicated to David Oistrakh, is 
          no less serious. The rapport that had been so aurally clear between 
          Batiashvili and Osborne in the Debussy transformed into true telepathy 
          here. What was perhaps most noteworthy about this performance was its 
          ability to follow Prokofiev’s shifting moods in such a chameleon fashion. 
          Thus, Osborne’s ominous opening tread set the scene for Batiashvili’s 
          deep and throaty entrance; but the delicate passages were no less remarkable 
          for the purity of Osborne’s chords against Batiashvili’s ghostly scales. 
          For the Allegro brusco, Osborne unleashed an impressive depth of sound 
          for this manifestation of Prokofiev’s relentless side (the thought crossed 
          my mind – strongly – that Osborne should be turning his attention to 
          Prokofiev’s solo piano sonatas sooner rather than later). This movement 
          formed the perfect contrast to the Prokofievian peace of the Andante, 
          itself a foil for the out-and-out virtuosity of the Alegrissimo finale.
        
        Only something as meaty as the 
          Brahms D minor Sonata could counterbalance a first half such as this, 
          and the programming worked perfectly. The gritty determination of the 
          youth of both players coupled with interpretative maturity beyond their 
          years meant that they had the tools to imbue the very opening with a 
          pure, simple energy: this was the beginning of a long emotional journey. 
          Osborne kept the textures clean and clear (as he did throughout – no 
          easy matter where the Brahms violin sonatas are concerned). Although 
          the Adagio was highly expressive (Batiashvili’s deep tone coming once 
          more to the fore), the Scherzo displayed an astonishingly light touch 
          from both players, passages positively tumbling over one another, a 
          testament to their youthful spirit. All of the first three movements 
          seemed to lead inevitably to the eruption of sheer power that was the 
          finale, the sound as large and impressive as one could desire.
        
        This concert was recorded by Radio 
          3 for broadcast on June 19.
        
        Colin Clarke