It’s the standard coupling
with a slight difference. Recorded in
1951 and 1952 the most well-known of
the trio of recordings is Menuhin’s
1952 Berlin traversal with Furtwängler
of the Mendelssohn E minor. The D minor
Concerto and the Bruch G minor were
New York and Boston recordings that,
for one reason or another, have not
rested as highly in the canon of the
violinist’s discography as have others
he made of the same works. This has
its advantages. The early Mendelssohn
recording hasn’t been reissued anywhere
in any format and the Boston Bruch,
according to the notes, hasn’t been
reissued for several decades. So in
a sense this is both artist- and recording-
centred in its scope and will give Menuhin
admirers the opportunity to acquaint
themselves with some of his two more
intractable and invisible recordings
from the early 1950s. This was incidentally
a time – as Biddulph’s rare Japanese
tour recordings show – when he was on
markedly fine form. Very little on Naxos’s
disc contradicts that impression.
The New York D minor
was recorded two days after Menuhin
had given the world premiere. The RCA
Victor recording is blatant, unsubtle
and up-front but we can bear with that
in the interests of hearing the lyric
curve of this self-directed performance.
There’s plenty of fabled tone here and
no sign of any incipient left or right
hand frailties; he even manages to ride
over the more turgid sequential passages
with a fair degree of panache. Greatest
weight is reserved for tiny little inflexions
in the slow movement – affectionately
done – with some moments for some of
the small accompanying group to shine
as well. The finale goes with fine lift,
as well, though the shrill sound rather
militates against it in the end.
The E minor also suffered
from an indifferent recording setup.
Listen to the first minute and a half
and you’ll hear a weird fade-in and
fade-out effect in the tuttis, as producer
Mark Obert-Thorn notes – and then you’ll
hear it throughout, a sort of swimmy
sound. Whilst sleeve note writer Tully
Potter castigates the conductor and
reprises a number of his bon mots
concerning the alleged inferiority of
Menuhin’s 1930s recordings, the performance
is not at all bad. It fuses sweetness
with a certain degree of lyric toughness
and there’s a certain sinewy quality
that stays in the mind. They take a
reasonable, un-pressing tempo for the
finale – unshowy and firmly musical.
The 1984 EMI transfer of this, coupled
with the Beethoven, was the first CD
I ever bought and led to a mini-breakdown
as I listened in despair to the wretched
orchestral sound. Obert-Thorn can’t
work miracles and the problems are inherent
– but perhaps I’ve accustomed myself
to the recording now. It is still problematic
but it’s the price you must pay to hear
the two in consort.
Menuhin made five studio
recordings of the Bruch G minor. I don’t
find him declamatory enough in the first
movement – not a fault of the recording
– but there are plenty of characteristic
moments along the way. He relies more
on palette than power in this recording
with Munch. Strangely the Boston Symphony
can sound perfunctory in the opening
movement and Menuhin’s own warm-heartedness
is somewhat subdued here – that extrovert
romanticism is sometimes missing. It
reappears in the slow movement, reminding
one of Ernest Newman’s comments on Menuhin’s
playing of Elgar’s concerto – "purring
like one of Max Bruch’s pussycats"
– when Newman accused the boy of too-luscious
playing. This is ripe and warm playing
if occasionally it doesn’t quite flow
rhythmically. The finale is full of
big heart and tone but the final bars
are a let down. Munch was a noted ex
fiddler and I’m surprised by his accompanying
– less than his usual gold standard.
So an interesting,
if difficult, disc to review. For Menuhin’s
admirers the retrieval of these overlooked
recordings is a boon. The sound is problematic
but the transfers are very reasonable
in the circumstances. Others should
note that Menuhin made superior recordings
of both the E minor and the Bruch.
Jonathan Woolf