Aulos is certainly 
                excavating the Melodiya string back-catalogue 
                with assiduous intelligence. Alongside 
                their big Shafran 
                retrospective they have turned their 
                eye to David 
                Oistrakh and now to one of his most 
                prestigious pupils, the maverick Gidon 
                Kremer. Often seen as a Huberman de 
                nos jours it’s particularly appetising 
                to listen to the young violinist in 
                his Soviet years. He was born in 1947 
                and was therefore twenty-three when 
                he made the first sides here; there 
                are two sessions, made five years apart 
                and they chart the young musician until 
                1975 and the threshold of his international 
                career. 
              
 
              
There are few more 
                contentious string players in the world 
                than Kremer and one can hear from these 
                earliest recordings how, despite his 
                studies with a tonalist as volcanic 
                and generous as Oistrakh, Kremer’s own 
                tonal resources were very much more 
                limited. He had something of a vogue 
                for playing baroque sonatas at around 
                this time but his Locatelli is compromised 
                by an insistent thin tone with scratchy 
                Allegros. Maybe he was slightly too 
                close to the microphones – and in passing 
                it’s a shame the movements weren’t separately 
                banded. Maybe this kind of playing better 
                suits the ascetic temper of our times 
                in its leanness and relative detachment. 
                His Kreisler-Beethoven isn’t very exultant 
                though it is good to hear the unfamiliar 
                March. His Fibich is not simply tonally 
                reserved it’s positively deadpan and 
                an indication of why Kremer can hardly 
                be considered at all as an exponent 
                of any Romantic repertoire. 
              
 
              
His Dinicu is technically 
                fine but has no verve. The chosen Paganini 
                suits his panache-resistant musicianship 
                rather better; there’s nothing intrinsically 
                captivating about it violinistically. 
                His Tchaikovsky Mélodie is neat 
                and tidy and it’s certainly welcome 
                to hear the Russian repertoire in his 
                hands – he even utilises some piquant 
                finger position changes and adds a dash 
                of colour. The Chandoschkin is, pace 
                the sleevenote, for solo violin – and 
                well sustained. 
              
 
              
Documentation is to 
                the point; the English translation needs 
                work. The DSD (Direct Stream Digital) 
                transfer, so conspicuously successful 
                in the Shafran series works well again 
                here; access to the master tapes is 
                a huge advantage and Aulos has capitalised 
                on it very well indeed. Kremer has many 
                admirers of course and they will welcome 
                the chance to track him to his discographic 
                lair and encounter his youthful self. 
              
 
              
Jonathan Woolf