Many, like myself, will be pleased that this 1992 release from Mercury
Living Presence is available once again via Presto’s manufacture-on-demand
service. Quite why Szeryng has fallen from favour since his death in 1988
puzzles me. One reason may be that he never cultivated an individually
distinctive sound, instantly recognizable, that couldn’t be mistaken for any
other. I am here thinking of his colleagues like Heifetz, Menuhin, Oistrakh
and Stern, who still remain popular. I remember watching a documentary in
which Itzhak Perlman made the ‘tongue in cheek’ remark that if he heard a
recording of a violinist and didn’t recognize who it was, he assumed it must
be Szeryng. That said, the Polish violinist, a star pupil of Carl Flesch,
can be counted among that elite group of twentieth century violinists who
are termed ‘great’.
Szeryng made three commercial recordings of the Brahms Violin Concerto.
Chronologically, this one sits in the middle. The earliest dates from June
1958 with Pierre Monteux and the London Symphony Orchestra (BMG/JVC), and
the latest was set down in April 1973 with Bernard Haitink and the
Concertgebouw (Philips). It has been interesting doing a head-to-head of all
three; I restricted my comparisons to the studio recordings, and have not
included the excellent live version on Orfeo with Kubelik. Whilst all three
are distinguished readings, it is the early Monteux collaboration that, for
me, is the most compelling. It is vital, inspired and intensely dramatic.
Tempi are a fractionally tighter, which gives it that extra spark. No longer
available, I see that Sony Japan are re-releasing it as part of a twofer
next month. The version with Haitink is my least favourite. Adopting broader
tempi, it never really catches fire and doesn’t possess the same immediacy
as its rivals.
All the qualities which attract me to Szeryng’s artistry are present in
these two performances with Dorati. His grasp of the structure and
architecture of the work gives it a logical sense of cohesion. The flawless
technical command, pristine intonation and scrupulous attention to detail,
with phrasing and articulation carefully considered, seal the performance’s
success. His tone is notable for its warmth and radiance — indeed it is
seductive. His ability to vary the speed of his vibrato enables him to
achieve a myriad range of colour. He employs the all too familiar Joachim
cadenza, which he dispatches with technical brilliance and refinement. The
slow movement is fervent, and the oboe solo at the beginning is beguiling.
The finale is propulsive, and is delivered with rhythmic punch. Antal Doráti
secures favourable results from the LSO and there is clearly a sympathetic
understanding between conductor and soloist, due to a single, shared
vision.
The unfettered optimism of the Khachaturian Violin Concerto is captured to
good effect in this 1964 recording. The outer movements, suffused with an
exotic Armenian flavour, have muscularity, energy and drive yet, unlike some
performances I’ve heard, in no way sound brash. In the second movement,
Szeryng’s fulsome and ravishing tone is sensual and deeply appealing. The
finale is informed by spirited nuance and inflection. Doráti is a skilful
and responsive partner. Szeryng made another commercial recording of it
twelve years earlier in mono with Pierre Dervaux and L’Association des
Concerts Colonne. Interpretively along the same lines, this later recording
has the added advantage of being in stereo. The performance is every bit as
good as David Oistrakh’s account from 1954 with the Philharmonia, under the
direction of the composer himself.
The sound in both concertos has an attractive bloom. The Watford Town Hall
confers space and depth on the overall sound-picture, with orchestral detail
readily discernible. Balance between soloist and orchestra in both concertos
is as it should be. The booklet notes are faithfully reproduced from the
original.
Stephen Greenbank
