Zino Francescatti (1902-1991)
was one of the finest violinists of
his generation. Despite his Italianate
name, he was a Frenchman, born in Marseille,
and from 1976 he retired to the south
of France. He first made his mark as
a child virtuoso, when at the age of
only ten he performed the Beethoven
concerto. In his early twenties he toured
with Maurice Ravel, and this helped
raise his profile internationally. He
remained a significant figure in Europe
and the United States for some fifty
years.
Francescatti was particularly
associated with the great concerto repertory,
and this coupling of Mendelssohn and
Tchaikovsky finds him at the height
of his considerable powers. Some commentators
have felt that his tone tended to be
thinner rather than full, but that may
have resulted from recorded sound, and
these remasterings make his tone more
flattering and rounded. As such he can
be heard to best advantage, even if
the sound is not as sophisticated as
that of the latest recording technology,
in terms of its depth of perspective,
for example.
The Tchaikovsky performance
carries much conviction, with a personal
response to phrasing, rubato and tempi.
Since his tempo is on the broad side
in the opening movement, Francescatti
is able to intensify the delivery in
the coda and the effect is most dramatic.
The central movement is beautifully
phrased, and though the recording does
not allow a gentle pianissimo, the artistry
is such that sentiment never quite becomes
sentimentality. The finale is exciting,
and all praise here to the New York
Philharmonic and Thomas Schippers for
their unanimity of ensemble as the music
sweeps forward. The coda moves the tempo
up to Allegro vivacissimo, and
at this point the response of Francescatti’s
virtuosity is uncompromising: a matter
of who dares wins, as it were.
The Mendelssohn concerto
is one of that composer’s finest inspirations,
and it is a work in which the violinist
sets the tone of the performance from
the very beginning. Thus Francescatti
makes his mark immediately and soon
his rapport with George Szell and the
Cleveland Orchestra becomes evident
as something rather special. As so often,
the recorded balance tends to favour
the soloist, but with Francescatti in
sparkling form there is little cause
for complaint, other than the loss of
a few orchestral touches of detail,
among the woodwinds for example. The
transition into the central slow movement
is expertly handled by Szell, and the
beautifully judged flowing tempo seems
perfect for this eloquent music. The
finale, on the other hand, has enormous
vitality, as this exciting interpretation
sweeps all before it.
Terry Barfoot