Another
lovely release from Australian Eloquence. The real attraction
here is the rarely heard Concertone, but the performance of
the Sinfonia Concertante coupled to it should not be passed
over. Both recordings make their CD debut with this issue,
and listening to this warm and involving playing, you have to
wonder why they have languished in the back catalogue for so
long.
The
probable answer is that, given the glut of Mozart recordings
on the market, it is the ones with big name soloists that head
the reissue queue. The soloists in these two recordings seem
to be drawn from within the orchestras. Certainly none of them
was familiar to me. The big name here is Mozart. Both Marriner
and Davis lead sensitive, affectionate and unfussy accounts
of the scores that are alive with Mozartian charm and freshness.
The
Sinfonia Concertante opens the disc, and finds the Academy in
a warm, generous mood. The soloists blend beautifully. Stephen
Shingles comes close to matching the breadth and warmth that
a David Oistrakh or Rudolf Barshai brings to the viola part.
His tuning is not always impeccable in the first movement, but
he comes into his own in the finale and is sensitive, though
not profound, in the andante. There is plenty of character
to Alan Loveday's playing, and his violin has a winning sweetness
of tone.
The
tempo of the opening movement is just about right, equal parts
allegro and maestoso,
without being either too pacy or haughty. The tempo almost
grinds to a halt on the solo violin figure about 5:30 through,
a strange touch that is repeated when the viola echoes the violin
a few bars later, but the tempo primo is soon restored and the odd
pause is forgotten. The orchestra, and in particular the horns,
sound lovely.
The
slow movement is quite lovely, with each soloist breathing his
part in long sighing phrases and warm support from Marriner
and co. A little less in the tuttis from conductor and orchestra
may have made his movement even more intimate. There is a sudden
slowing of tempo again around the seven minute mark, but this
tempo manipulation is not as pronounced as Marriner's hard breaking
in the first movement, and is much more effective as is gives
way to a darkening of colours in the minor mode.
The
finale is bright and good humoured, and really flows like oil.
This
is old fashioned Mozart playing, but none the worse for that.
The Oistrakhs, father and son, on EMI Encore remain my pick
in this piece and are available at roughly the same price, coupled
with Oistrakh senior's monumental recording of the Brahms concerto
with Klemperer. I also have a soft for the Menuhin/Barshai
performance, also on EMI, though the Decca sound is superior
and Loveday's playing more secure than Menuhin's.
The
attractions of this performance, however, are not to be underestimated,
and are enhanced by the coupling with the Concertone. The Oistrakh
and Oistrakh version is not currently available, and in its
absence, this recording is quite serviceable. The attack of
the London Symphony's violins in the opening chords may make
you jump. Adjust your volume control down a notch, and things
will right themselves. Almost. The playing of the orchestra
is more than decent in this performance and the two violinists,
Hurwitz and Goren, are very well matched. They weave their
parts around each other and inject plenty of verve into the
outer movements, though there could be more grace to the slow
movement.
There
are sonic reservations, though. The 1970 recording of the Sinfonia
Concertante is warm, plush vintage Decca analogue. The Concertone,
which follows, shows its age. The sound in the latter recording
is thin, with a harsh edge to he higher frequency sounds, a
lack of bass and much less warmth overall. This is a pity,
because the performance itself is quite lovely, but getting
through the “historical recording” sound quality takes some
effort. Once the ear adjusts, there is certainly no lack of
commitment in the performance, but I am not sure all listeners
will be willing to persevere.
Tim Perry