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             Jeno 
              HUBAY (1858-1937)  
              Violin Concerto No. 1 in A minor, Op. 21, “Concerto Dramatique” 
              (1884) [30:30]  
              Violin Concerto No. 2 in E major, Op. 90 (c. 1900) [26:45]  
              Scènes de la Csárda No. 3, Op. 18 (c. 1883) [7:13]  
              Scènes de la Csárda No. 4, Op. 32 (c. 1886) [6:19]  
                
              Chloë Hanslip (violin)  
              Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra/Andrew Mogrelia  
              rec. Lighthouse, Poole, U.K., June 2008  
                
              NAXOS 8.572078 [70:46]   
              
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                  From the opening notes of Op. 21 the listener is left in no 
                  doubt that Jeno Hubay was a fully paid-up member of the late-Romantic 
                  school of composer-performers. The name of Liszt, a fellow Hungarian, 
                  comes to mind, but it is Henri Vieuxtemps who is the most frequently 
                  evoked in connection with Hubay. Comparing the music on this 
                  disc, however, with what little I have heard of the Belgian 
                  composer, it is Hubay’s that seems the more interesting. It 
                  is easy to listen to and not particularly challenging, but it 
                  is certainly not pale or unmemorable. It is well crafted but 
                  any reader who thinks I am damning with faint praise here should 
                  lose no time in acquiring this disc, as I am convinced it will 
                  bring much pleasure. There are stock gestures, to be sure, and 
                  many moments where the composer’s command of formal matters 
                  is rather self-conscious. One can almost hear him saying “it’s 
                  time for a short cadenza now”, whereas a master composer will 
                  contrive to allow such events to occur seamlessly in the overall 
                  structure. The first movement of the First Concerto is quite 
                  dramatic for much of its length, but boasts a very affecting 
                  second subject. The slow movement is perhaps the pearl of the 
                  work. Bruce Schueneman, in the booklet notes, describes it as 
                  “gorgeous”, and that is a perfectly appropriate word. The solo 
                  instrument really sings, indeed, hardly stops for breath throughout 
                  the movement. The finale opens in more conventional manner with 
                  a few rather commonplace virtuoso gestures, but after a while 
                  the music slows and calms – in the self-conscious manner outlined 
                  above, one might think – for a quieter section. When it comes, 
                  though, this really is lovely, and throughout the work one is 
                  surprised by the freshness of the melodic writing, if not its 
                  total originality.  
                     
                  The Second Concerto is perhaps less consistently inspired, but 
                  is a most satisfying listen nonetheless. It would take a thesis 
                  to explore why neither of these works measures up to the greatest 
                  in the repertoire, but with such consistently pleasing music 
                  there is no real need to ask the question. One should just to 
                  submit to it and enjoy it.  
                     
                  The disc is completed by two short pieces for violin and orchestra 
                  entitled Scènes de la Csárda. The czárdás 
                  is a Hungarian dance form, usually beginning with a slow introduction 
                  and ending with a faster, often rather wild section. An excellent 
                  example is the fake csárdás sung by Rosalinda in Strauss’s 
                  Die Fledermaus as a way of convincing the assembly that 
                  she really is a Hungarian Countess, but I don’t think anyone 
                  hearing these works would have any doubt that Hubay really was 
                  a Hungarian composer. The writing for the solo instrument is 
                  virtuoso in nature, and that for the orchestra is brilliantly 
                  colourful and evocative. Both works would make marvellous encores 
                  for a visiting soloist, and as such, would bring the house down. 
                   
                     
                  If the composer were alive today he would be clasping his hands 
                  in gratitude for the advocacy of Chloë Hanslip. She rises to 
                  the fearsome technical demands of these works without flinching, 
                  with strong, rich tone and absolutely spot-on tuning. More importantly 
                  still, she seems totally convinced by, and committed to this 
                  music, bringing to it an ardent romanticism that serves it perfectly. 
                  I can hardly wait to know what she is going to record next. 
                  She is admirably supported by the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra 
                  in music which, though colourfully orchestrated, is conceived 
                  mainly as a vehicle for the soloist. Andrew Mogrelia directs 
                  the ensemble with sensitivity and meticulous attention to detail. 
                   
                     
                  Bruce R. Schueneman contributes a booklet note that tells you 
                  all you need to know to enjoy this disc. The recording is excellent. 
                  All this is available at the usual Naxos price. What are you 
                  waiting for?  
                     
                  William Hedley  
                see also review 
                  by Jonathan Woolf 
                     
                 
               
             
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