Beethoven composed
his violin concerto in 1806 for Franz Clement, a leading violinist
of the day. The story goes that Beethoven delivered the solo
part so late that Clement had to sight-read it. At the first
performance, the soloist stopped between the first and second
movements and played a solo work of his own composition, on
one string and with the violin upside down as a bit of nose-thumbing
toward the composer. The debut was not successful and the concerto
lay dormant until the 1840s when it was revived by Joseph Joachim
in performances conducted by Felix Mendelssohn. Since then it
has become one of the most important works in the violin repertoire
and has been recorded dozens of times.
You wouldn’t know
any of that had you read Deutsche Grammophon’s pathetic booklet.
It contains only a cheap essay about Vadim Repin’s experience
with the concerto complete with three or four paragraphs of
sycophantic bragging by annotator Michael Church about how well
Repin plays the work. Not, mind you, that there’s anything wrong
with an artist expressing his thoughts about the music he’s
just recorded, but, one might think that a company as venerable
as DG would have thought to at least have mentioned the composer,
what was his name again … oh yes, Ludwig van Beethoven.
The glory of this
concerto lies in its lack of outward virtuosity. Beethoven the
superstar pianist could have easily composed a solo part that
was long on flashy finger-work and catchy tunes. Instead, he
created one of the most inwardly expressive and personal works
of his career. Repin has made a very conscious choice to exploit
the work’s reflective nature and has delivered a performance
crafted with great care, abundant warmth and loads of heart.
From the very opening, his tone is sweet and although perfectly
balanced with the orchestra, consistently understated so as
to give the music pride of place above his own considerable
ability to play it. Even the first movement cadenza (by Fritz
Kreisler) is played with the utmost dignity and respect. This
is some of the sweetest, most expressive violin playing that
I have heard in years.
The second movement
is heartrendingly calm and gentle, again marked by Repin’s sweet
and supple tone and his spot-on intonation. Muti and the VPO
provide an extremely sensitive accompaniment, with some beautiful
playing from the horns and the winds. Things finally get a bit
boisterous by the final movement with Muti letting the orchestra
play more vigorously than at any other time in the concerto.
Throughout, our soloist maintains his self-control, giving credence
to Yehudi Menuhin’s quote that Repin is “simply the best, the
most perfect violinist I have ever heard.” High praise indeed,
but if this performance is evidence, such praise is well deserved.
I’ve heard perhaps twenty recordings of this concerto, and I
cannot recall one that has held my attention so thoroughly,
or one that has made me want immediately to listen a second
time. Muti and Repin are a match made in heaven and are to be
commended for the exquisite good taste with which they present
this war-horse!
Beethoven originally
dedicated his ninth violin sonata to the half-Polish, half-West
Indian virtuoso George Bridgetower (1780-1860) but as happened
from time to time, a bar-room disagreement between the two caused
the composer to fly into one of his famous rages and destroy
the dedication. He later dedicated it to Rudolphe Kreutzer,
one of the leading violinists of his day, who never performed
it and declared it unplayable. Leo Tolstoy would later use the
work as the germ of a short-story about passions run amok. Leoš
Janáček would in turn find Tolstoy’s story to be the inspiration
for his first string quartet.
The first movement
opens with a trick that would show up again in the fourth piano
concerto wherein the soloist begins alone to be joined later
by the rest of the band. The Haydnesque soliloquy gives way
to stormy and at times even raucous music, sprinkled with moments
of repose, only to take off again in a tear. Unlike in the concerto
performance, Repin pours a good deal more of his Russian soul
into the sonata and he is matched with a vengeance by Martha
Argerich, who is never passive in her playing. Repin’s tone
is more edgy, less sweet than in the concerto, but that is not
a bad thing. The tension is palpable and there are moments while
listening that you have to remind yourself to breathe.
In stark contrast
to the opening movement, there follows a serene set of variations,
music that is so much happier and relaxed than the opening movement
that you wonder if the music is by the same composer. That Beethoven
can maintain such a high level of interest in a slow movement
of more than fourteen minutes’ duration is testimony to his
genius. The interplay between Repin and Argerich is at times
playful and always very natural.
The final movement
gets off to a rollicking start with a thunderous chord from
the piano followed by a jolly and contrapuntal presto, joyously
tossed off by both artists with considerable ease and panache.
This is surely one
of the most satisfying Beethoven recordings to hit the shelves
in some time and is one to own regardless of the duplication
it may cause in your library. These are truly masterful performances;
performances that for once reveal something new and interesting
about well-known works. Repin in particular has thought this
music through completely and put his own stamp on it, a stamp
that stands to become more and more collectible as this fine
artist matures!
Kevin Sutton
see also Review
by Leslie Wright
Vadim Repin
(violin) 
