Russia before and after the revolution, and a link 
          with the season's Spanish theme in a recent Russian take on two Albeniz 
          tangos, all conducted by the BBC Philharmonic's Russian-born principal 
          guest conductor Vassily Sinaisky.
        
        According to Rodion Shchedrin, his Albeniz arrangements 
          were inspired by his wife, former Bolshoy ballerina Mayya Plisetskaya 
          in the same way as his Carmen Suite 30 years earlier. The original 
          Albeniz works, one from his Espana Suite and the other the second 
          of his Morceaux caracteristiques, evoke Southern Spain rather 
          than the dance halls of Argentina, although at times the music seemed 
          to me more French, or Ravelian, than Spanish - a sentiment also expressed 
          by Sinaisky. The mood in both tangos is often sombre, with mournful 
          woodwind harmonies and a sinuous, sultry oboe leitmotif in the first. 
          Jazzy trumpet solos lighten the mood, and there is a surprise ending 
          to the second which Sinaisky and Philharmonic pull off with great aplomb.
        
        If Shchedrin's tangos were tinged with melancholy, 
          Shostakovich's First Violin Concerto is positively suicidal: the work 
          makes no attempt at false jubilation or jauntiness. The composer was 
          at work on the Concerto in February 1948 when the famous Central Committee 
          'anti-distortion' resolution was passed. The resolution was to cost 
          him his teaching posts at the Moscow and Leningrad Conservatories, but 
          it seems to have had no effect on his Violin Concerto, which he withheld 
          until the political thaw in 1953. The four movement titles (Nocturne, 
          Scherzo, Passacaglia and Burlesca, plus cadenza) belie the 'symphonic 
          thinking' behind the work, as its dedicatee David Oistrakh put it. 'The 
          performer plays a pithy, 'Shakespearean' role which demands complete 
          emotional and intellectual involvement [as well as ample virtuosity]'. 
          Ilya Gringolts was equal to all those demands. If his sound is not perhaps 
          as big as it might be, he produced a dark, intense and deeply heartfelt 
          account from the beginning, gliding in on the G and gradually ascending 
          a tortured path to brilliant climactic notes in the angular Nocturne. 
          Moving to the music in the Scherzo's frenetic dance of death, this svelte 
          violinist reminded me of the similarly boyish Nigel Kennedy. In the 
          lyrical, more peaceful Passacaglia, violin and orchestra threatened 
          to get out of synch but Gringolts remained intensely focused throughout, 
          bringing off the punishing cadenza with panache, if not with Vengerovian 
          swagger. 
        
        After such gut-wrenching, Rachmaninov's Second seemed 
          almost tame at first in the hands of this team, their lush and highly 
          accomplished performance too easy in its fluency. But Rachmaninov 
          can always be relied on to break in on the music, just when it is getting 
          too comfortable, with a startling call to arms. Sinaisky steered the 
          orchestra effortlessly through these many swift changes of gear as one 
          who could conduct the work in his sleep, summoning a very powerful body 
          of orchestral sound with exquisite solos from around the orchestra, 
          notably the clarinet's long-breathed line in the Adagio. 
        
        Sarah Dunlop