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Hungaroton's Hubay series has now reached volume twelve and shows no signs of stopping. Its extensive sweep is gratifying as is its concentration on fine performances, good documentation and recording standards.

This volume starts with quite a well known piece, Scènes de la Csárda no 12, Op. 83 "Pici tubiczam". This was recorded by Hubay himself back in 1929, somewhat cut, and with orchestral accompaniment (you can find it on Symposium 1071). That fine Hubay pupil Duci de Kerekjarto also recorded it, a recording to be found in the Historical compilation disc that is part of Charles Castleman's Hubay selection, one that contains his recent uncut, orchestrally accompanied version [Music & Arts 1164). Ferenc Szecsődi plays with panache, employing some period downward portamenti. His vibrato is not as wide or strongly promoted as that of his forebear de Kerekjarto but he plays with style. The Trois morceau Op.48 make for attractive contrast; the first is a passionate if generic ballad tinged with melancholy whilst the third is full of warm double-stopping and virtuoso passagework.  The slightly later Op.52 set includes one - the second - which has a certain Kreisleresque ethos. The last of the three is humorously sprung and elegantly testing.

In the Dark Shade of the Deep Forest Op.67 No.1 exudes a kind of Hungarian 'blue note' quality. The two Paganini-hyphenated pieces are interesting because Hubay never played this composer's music in public. They were probably written for his students, but the pianofied accompaniment to the Caprice is rather unnecessary - albeit not necessarily at the time when Hubay elaborated it when such things were common. There's folk-derived pathos in Why do you coo? but even more excitement is in store in the Liszt-Hubay work. This transcription is a virtuoso display piece of great extroversion and contrasts nicely with the transcription of Rachmaninoff’s Élégie and its lyric elegance and warm lyric contour. The Five Concert Studies disclose some familiar virtuoso licks - not least in the incessant demands of the second. The doughty piano chording of No.3 doesn't prepare one for the ensuing lyrical central panel.

This is a valuable series: that it has seemingly passed me by is clearly my loss. I have some serious catching up to do.

Jonathan Woolf 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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