Wolfgang
Amadeus MOZART (1756-1791)
Violin Concerto No. 1 in B flat major
K207
Violin Concerto No. 2 in D major K211
Arthur Grumiaux (violin) Vienna Symphony
Orchestra/Bernhard Paumgartner, recorded
1954-55
Violin Concerto No. 3 in G major K216
Violin Concerto No. 4 in D major K218
Arthur Grumiaux (violin) Vienna Symphony
Orchestra/Rudolf Moralt, recorded 1953
Violin Concerto No. 5 in A major K219
Violin Concerto in D major K271i
Arthur Grumiaux (violin) Vienna Symphony
Orchestra/Bernhard Paumgartner, recorded
1954
Claude DEBUSSY
(1862-1918)
Violin Sonata in G minor
Maurice RAVEL
(1875-1937)
Violin Sonata in G major
Pièce en forme de Habanera arr.
Catherine
Gabriel FAURÉ
(1845-1924)
Violin Sonata No. 1 in A major Op. 13
Les Berceaux Op.23 No. 1
Pablo de SARASATE
(1844-1908)
Zigeunerweisen Op. 20
Joseph-Hector
FIOCCO (1703-1741)
Allegro from Pièces de Clavecin
Op. 1 arr. H. Bent and N. O’Neill
Enrique GRANADOS
(1867-1916)
Andaluza (Danzas Españolas Op.
37 No. 5) arr. Kreisler
Isaac ALBÉNIZ
(1860-1909)
Tango Op. 165 No.2 arr. Kreisler
Arthur Grumiaux (violin)
István Hajdu (piano)
Recorded 1962
Edouard LALO
(1823-1892)
Symphonie Espagnole in D minor Op. 21
Ernest CHAUSSON
(1855-1899)
Poème Op.25
Maurice RAVEL
(1875-1937)
Tzigane
Camille SAINT-SAËNS
(1835-1921)
Introduction et Rondo Capriccioso Op.28
Havanaise Op.38
Arthur Grumiaux (violin)/Orchestre des
Concerts Lamoureux/Jean Fournet, recorded
1954 and 1956
Felix MENDELSSOHN
(1809-1847)
Violin Concerto in E minor Op.64
Arthur Grumiaux (violin) Vienna Symphony
Orchestra/Rudolf Moralt, recorded 1954
Niccolò
PAGANINI (1782-1840)
Violin Concerto No.4 in D minor
Arthur Grumiaux (violin)/Orchestre des
Concerts Lamoureux/Franco Gallini, recorded
1954
I Palpiti Op.13 arr. Kreisler
Le Streghe Op.8 arr. Kreisler
Arthur Grumiaux (violin)
Riccardo Castagnone (piano)
Recorded 1958
If you read the head
note don’t skip over the Mozart assuming
it’s the Colin Davis/LSO cycle. This
is actually Grumiaux’s much less well-known
earlier cycle, made in Vienna with Paumgartner
and Moralt conducting, variously, the
Vienna Symphony. The set was made in
1954-55 and stands up well. It’s true
that the tapes have not emerged unscathed
and one will hear moments of extraneous
noise on them, but only at a relatively
high level, so that one can still enjoy
the august music making of the soloist.
And Grumiaux really was a superb Mozartian.
True, some may prefer Szeryng, from
amongst the Belgian’s contemporaries,
for a degree of incisiveness that some
feel Grumiaux lacked but, to me, the
grace and finesse that Grumiaux evinces
is simply non-pareil in this repertoire.
He was just slightly more exuberant
here than in the later Davis cycle (something
one has also noted in his Boston recordings
of 1951-52 on Parnassus and highly recommended,
especially to those who haven’t encountered
Grumiaux in the fifties or earlier.
He did make 78s). But what one finds
in him is a superb equipoise between
tonal discretion and stylistic understanding.
There are no overstressed accents in
the A major, phrasing is supple and
entirely natural sounding (has any other
Concerto cycle soloist sounded so unforced
and invariably right?). He employs unfamiliar
cadenzas as he invariably did and not
the standard Sam Franko ones – his own,
which are engaging and apt, as well
as by Ysaÿe. I shall remember his
veiled introduction to the cadenza of
the G major’s Adagio with the greatest
admiration. The accompaniments are attentive
and the two conductors clearly in sympathy
with Grumiaux.
Elsewhere this 5 CD
box trawls Grumiaux’s discographic legacy
with fine judgement. The third disc
brings together his famed Debussy Sonata
(a living rebuke to those who would
maul it about in the interests of personal
projection), his exquisitely intelligent
Ravel Sonata and the Fauré No
1. The Debussy is his last 1962 recording
of it and we’re fortunate that all three,
first with Ulanowsky in Boston (Parnassus)
and then in 1955 with Castagnone (part
of a Philips triple box issued back
in 1993) have all made appearances on
CD. This Ravel is, perhaps surprisingly,
his only commercial recording of the
Sonata. I’ve always been greatly taken
by his remake with Paul Crossley of
the Fauré No 1 (coupled on a
long cherished LP with the Second Sonata)
but there’s no doubt that he and István
Hajdu make a formidable pairing in this
repertoire. The encore selection that
completes the third disc derives from
a slimline Philips twofer issued in
1995. Someone is of a like mind to me
in the selection committee at Philips
because they’ve narrowed things to the
glorious Fiocco Allegro, Ravel’s Habanera,
the irresistible Les Berceaux transcription
and examples of his Iberian wizardry.
Grumiaux made a fine
team with the underrated Jean Fournet
(hero of the wartime French Berlioz
discography – see Malibran) in an all-French
Disc Four. That said this Symphonie
Espagnole is shorn of the Intermezzo,
something that Russian players routinely
did, but I wasn’t aware that Grumiaux
and Fournet had done as well. He certainly
reinstated it when he made his more
celebrated disc of it with Manuel Rosenthal
with the same orchestra, the Orchestre
des Concerts Lamoureux. The Chausson
is informed by chaste intensity. This
is no over-emoted performance and the
Saint-Saëns pieces have drama and
drive in equal measure, though it’s
true that others have mined perhaps
greater personality from them. Disc
Five takes us back to Vienna for a Moralt-led
Mendelssohn Concerto. Two years later,
in 1956, the veteran Mischa Elman also
recorded the same work in the same city,
this time with the Orchestra of the
Vienna State Opera. Profoundly different
though their whole personalities were,
they share a degree of selfless introspection
in this much knocked-about work. Grumiaux
had already recorded it in 1946 with
Galliera and the Philharmonia and was
to do so again with Haitink in 1960
and with Krenz in 1972. He is unhurried
and spiccato-heavy in the opening movement
with Moralt, sensitively shaped and
introspective (at a Kreisler-like tempo).
His approach is one of almost elfin
delicacy, with a reposeful slow movement
and a musical finale, the antithesis
of showy bow flourishers (of whom the
violin world has had its share). Mind
you, he lacks for nothing in the Paganini.
This might not be thought to be natural
ground for an aristocrat like Grumiaux
but we do him a disservice if we think
him less than cast-iron technically.
He surmounts difficult with nonchalance
and his legato delicacy in the slow
movement of the Concerto is wonderful.
His fervour here is always informed
by taste, discretion and purity of tonal
production, and his digital vitesse
in the finale is all-conquering.
I have little but praise
for this varied and less well-known
collection. It will be a boon to Grumiaux’s
admirers and opens up compelling perspectives
on his subtle but flexible music making.
Margaret Campbell’s notes offer a good
potted biography. For initiates I would
suggest you get hold of the only biography
of the violinist, by Laurence and Michel
Winthrop (Editions Payot, Lausanne -
in French only but if I can cope you
can). And if you don’t want to read
about him you will certainly want to
hear him in this elegantly designed
and life-enhancing box.
Jonathan Woolf
