In the ranks of the generation of American violinists
born between 1915 and 1935 – Yehudi Menuhin, Ruggiero Ricci, Oscar Shumsky,
Sidney Harth, Berl Senofsky, Aaron Rosand and Joseph Silverstein most
prominent amongst them – the name of David Nadien burns perhaps less
brightly. That this should be so is a measure of the difficulty of sustaining
a top flight solo career and also of the nature and extent of Nadien’s
musical life and is assuredly not a reflection of his innate violinistic
talent – which places him toward the apex of the American born violinists
who followed hard on the heels of Albert Spalding’s death in 1953.
Nadien was born in New York in 1928 and studied with
Adolpho Betti, celebrated first violinist of the Flonzaley Quartet,
and later with the pedagogue Ivan Galamian. Principally a recitalist
he did also appear as soloist with the New York Philharmonic, of which
orchestra he was leader from 1966 to 1970. He has been a distinguished
teacher and coach and also had a substantial commercial career in the
studios of New York, appearing with other stellar first-call session
men such as violinists Harry Lookofsky and Charles Libove as well as
the late cellist Alan Schulman (broadminded listeners will find Nadien
on many an unlikely disc and he was part of the string section on Spyro
Gyra’s jazz-fusion albums for example).
Cembal d’amour’s Mordecai Shehori has an exceptionally
high regard for Nadien’s playing – this is Volume 2 in the series -
and it’s one I share. Live performances and reissues from a now rare
Kapp LP comprise the recital and it is one of captivating interest.
Firstly Nadien is a tonalist of alluring brilliance. His sound is bewitching
throughout the scale, orientated toward broadly romantic lines, with
an intense vibrato that vests everything he plays with individuality
and charismatic propulsion. In the Kreisler Variations his husky tone
is put to good use as he takes the quick central passages much quicker
than, say, his colleague Oscar Shumsky – more quicksilver and less patrician
perhaps than the older player. His rubati are deliciously exploratory
and the sound ear titillating in the extreme with luscious intensifications
of the solo line through expressive pointing. His playing is intensely
vibrant, communicative and alive. His Veracini – this is an Old School
recital such as Elman may have given – is another deeply expressive
and profoundly romanticised reading. Some may find his intensity overwhelming,
rather in the way William Primrose frowned on violinists’ indiscriminate
use of continuous vibrato – but there’s no doubting the fervour of the
playing and nor is there in Kreisler’s Recitative and Scherzo which
finds Nadien in richly ecstatic form. His articulation in the Paganini-Kreisler
is clear. He keeps tonal vibrance even in the highest positions whilst
one can appreciate the variety and strengths of bow pressure in the
Schubert as well as the sheer lyrical elasticity of his phrasing and
the variety of vibrato usage employed.
The Dvořák is enlivened
by subtle increments of volume and paragraphal sophistication whereas
one can bask in the sultriness of his Ravel and the way Nadien meets
the technical challenges of Wieniawski’s Scherzo-tarantelle. He dispatches
the Wieniawski with panache, enlivening the slower variational
passages with succulent intensity. The acoustic for Schön Rosmarin
is rather bold and hard – Town Hall, New York and among the most recent
of the pieces recorded – but the playing is still communicative even
if not quite up to his gold standard. The disc actually starts with
two pieces with orchestra taken from an enthusiastically received concert
in Budapest given in 1973. In the Sarasate, in a rather clotted acoustic
and with a bumpy edit at 3.17, Nadien is certainly not afraid to coarsen
his tone sometimes in the interests of variety and inherent drama. The
Bruch Concerto meanwhile receives the same kind of acoustic but this
is swashbuckling playing, immensely cogent, dramatic and theatrical,
alive to phraseology with veritable plateaux of soft and loud playing.
I wouldn’t call either accompaniment or recording subtle but one is
certainly swept up in the maelstrom. Nadien spices his line with gorgeous
expressive devices and he surmounts the occasionally galloping accompaniment
with fervour and aplomb.
There’s more than enough here to keep violin fanciers
happy. Individuality and tonal riches such as Nadien possesses come
but rarely and should be celebrated when they do. Heir to the Great
Tradition, indeed, he is a musician of delicacy and intimacy as well
as panache and drive: an all-round musician and consummate violinist
in fact.
Jonathan Woolf
David Nadien, violin 