This, the most recent Gil Shaham-John Williams collaboration, 
          is a quite outstanding disc. Shaham's lyrical clarity of tone, near-faultless 
          intonation, and beautifully expressive phrasing define him as one of 
          the most noteworthy violinists of his generation; meanwhile, long-term 
          collaborators John Williams and the Boston Symphony Orchestra understand 
          each other so intimately that they bring subtlety to every finest detail 
          of Williams' music. 
        
 
        
This is the premiere recording of Treesong, 
          a mystical tone-poem that exploits the many evocative qualities of the 
          violin. It is, rather endearingly, inspired by a rare Chinese Dawn Redwood 
          tree, or to be specific, one standing in Boston Public Garden that Williams 
          admired for many years, before coincidentally meeting the scientist 
          who planted it, Shiu-Ying Hu. 'The piece doesn't aspire to "describe" 
          the tree per se', writes Williams, 'but it does attempt, in my 
          mind at least, to connect, to the degree possible, the great beauty 
          and dignity of this magnificent conifer with the elegance and grace 
          of Gil Shaham and his art'. It succeeds, eloquently. 
        
 
        
In the first movement, "Doctor Hu and the Metasequoia", 
          the almost continuous violin line weaves about dreamily whilst Shaham's 
          crystal clear tone slices through the hazy orchestral textures that 
          first surround him. Later, string chords and harmonics abound, creating 
          a shimmering orchestral backdrop that is hauntingly reminiscent of an 
          imposing forest canopy or 'the twilit interior of a forest', as Williams 
          himself describes it. 
        
 
        
Treesong's second movement is a more graphic representation 
          of the tree's growth. The fast, energetic writing sees a more active 
          role for the orchestra, and the tree's 'Branches, leaves and trunks' 
          are intimately depicted. The lyrical violin cadenza between second and 
          third movements (and written by the composer) recaptures the dreamy, 
          lyrical character of the beginning. The third movement, 'The Tree 
          Sings', sees a new richness in both soloist and orchestra, and once 
          again the different colours and tints in Williams' orchestration contribute 
          towards the descriptive effects of the work. The overall structure of 
          Treesong is therefore an inverted concerto form (slow-fast-slow), which 
          adds further to its curious unique quality. 
        
 
        
Interestingly, Treesong's textures and climactic passages 
          share much of their orchestral complexity and detail with Williams' 
          film music, yet not once does Williams sacrifice the integrity of the 
          modern classical style. He never ‘dumbs down’ to the simpler melodic 
          accessibility of some of his film music (with the obvious exception 
          of Schindler's list, written expressly in that genre!), and a marked 
          difference between his classical and film styles gradually becomes apparent. 
        
 
        
The Concerto for Violin and Orchestra is noticeably 
          more 20th century in style; Bartók, Prokofiev and Walton are 
          cited as major influences, and the work itself demonstrates Williams' 
          accomplished understanding of modern symphonic writing. Juxtapositions 
          of lyrical themes with virtuosic motifs abound, expertly emphasised 
          by Gil Shaham; his trademark lyricism and first-class virtuosic security 
          is a powerful combination, but also a necessity for this concerto. The 
          contemplative second movement is followed by a thrilling finale that 
          is again crisp and articulate. Although the solo writing is fiendish 
          in parts, Shaham's intonation remains faultless throughout. 
        
 
        
Three Pieces from "Schindler's List" is 
          a cleverly chosen lollipop with which to end the programme. The most 
          instantly accessible music on the disc, it hints at Williams' film-music 
          style, and makes one realise just how much of a musical chameleon he 
          can be in terms of compositional scope. Even without ever having seen 
          the film itself, it is easy to perceive the grim truths that Williams’ 
          haunting melodies spell out. Throughout, the silky Shaham sound is always 
          present, full of interest and beauty. Shaham is undoubtedly one of the 
          very top violinists of the post-Perlman/Zuckerman generation, and these 
          performances will only enhance his reputation further. 
        
 
        
I will go so far as to say this could be a landmark 
          disc. Because of his near-fusion of elements from both classical and 
          film music genres Williams’ writing style is a very progressive form 
          of the classical genre, and it is innovators such as he who push repertoire 
          boundaries forward. It would be unsurprising if Treesong and 
          the Concerto eventually end up as standard violin repertoire; 
          this disc will go some way towards making this happen. 
        
 
        
        
Simon Hewitt Jones