Australian
Eloquence has of late released a number of discs featuring the
art of Arthur Grumiaux. The Belgian violinist's fans would have
been disappointed at the omission of this recording of the Brahms
from Universal's box of Grumiaux's Philips recordings from the
period 1955-1978 (Philips 475 7825). This disc is a must-have
for them, and also for all Brahmsians.
Simply put, Grumiaux's 1958 recording of the Brahms
concerto is superb. Unusually for this most classically refined
of violinists, it is also surprisingly passionate. The qualities
that one associates most with Grumiaux – the faultless technique,
stylish phrasing and sweet tone – are all here. His double stopping
is peerless – just listen to his bold, almost martial first
entry in the first movement. Added to these qualities, though,
is a wonderful romantic sweep. The first movement's cadenza
– Joachim's – is captivating in its sense of rhapsody. Grumiaux
teases out the themes of the first movement and the beauty of
the central adagio with obvious affection and revels in the
dancing finale, but he projects powerfully in the climaxes.
It helps that there is an obvious sympathy between
the Grumiaux and van Beinum. The Dutch conductor leads the Concertgebouw
in a virile accompaniment, which nonetheless reveals the beauty
of Brahms' score, with some gorgeous playing from the Concertgebouw
winds in the adagio in particular. Tempi tend to be swift, but
this only adds to the romantic sweep of the performance. Only
in the adagio did I wish that van Beinum and his soloist would
linger more.
For me, this is an account to place beside the
classic Oistrakh recordings that date from the same era – not
as serious-minded as the recording with Klemperer on EMI Encore
or as free as the mono recording with Konwitschny on Deutsche
Grammophon, but surprisingly similar in feel to Oistrakh's live recording with Kondrashin. It shows the Belgian master to be a match
for his great Russian contemporary, and no praise can be higher
than that.
The fillers are well chosen and continue to showcase
van Beinum's qualities as a conductor in general, and as an
interpreter of Brahms in particular. His performances of both
overtures are warm but muscular, and he draws characterful playing
from his excellent orchestra. The exuberant conclusion to the
Academic Festival Overture, with van Beinum pushing the
tempo, is great fun. The Tragic Overture is all the more
dramatic for its initial rhetorical restraint and the orchestra's
razor-sharp articulation. Nobody does it better.
The
final piece in the programme, van Beinum's recording of the Alto
Rhapsody with Aafje Heynis, will catch many a collector's
interest. And so it should. Heynis' singing is light and free,
as is van Beinum's support, making this recording very much the
antithesis of the classic Christa Ludwig/Otto Klemperer account
on EMI.
If you find Ludwig and Klemperer too dark and dour, then Heynis
and van Beinum, with their greater delicacy and tendency to rapture,
are for you.
The analogue sound is warm and clear, with a little
crowding in the climaxes. Only in the Alto Rhapsody do
the sonics really show their age to any greater extent, with
less bloom and a flatter sound perspective reminding you that,
yes, this recording is half a century old. It does not detract
from the quality of the performance, though.
With
an hour and a quarter of excellent music-making, intelligently
coupled and priced at the bottom of the market, how can you possibly
pass this up?
Tim Perry
Arthur Grumiaux
(violin)*; Aafje Heynis (contralto)^ 
