Violin Concerto No. 1 in A minor, op. 77; Tchaikovsky: Violin Concerto in D major, op. 35.
Itzhak Perlman, Israel Philharmonic Orchestra, Ilya Gringolts (violin).
Deutsche Grammophon 289 471 616-2. DDD. TT 72:26.
Recorded Frederic R. Mann Auditorium, Tel Aviv, December 2001.

Gringolts' first entry, accompanied by a clearly audible and purposeful drawing of breath, sets the tone for this recording - this is from the trenches, perhaps how the conductor and soloist hear it rather than your typical concert hall experience. In the Passacaglia, these snatched breaths can easily be mistaken for actual sobbing, and while this degree of intimacy didn't bother me, some may find it distracting.

Gringolts and Perlman take the Nocturne at a relatively slow tempo - at 12.02 it is somewhat quicker than Maxim Vengerov's 13:10 with Rostropovich and the London Symphony Orchestra (Teldec 4509-92256-2), but slower than Perlman as violinist with Zubin Mehta and the Israel Philharmonic at 10.51 (EMI CDC 7 49814 2); David Oistrakh's tempos generally range around the 10 to 11 minute mark (e.g., with Maxim Shostakovich and the New Philharmonia Orchestra; EMI-ASD 2936 LP).

These widely divergent tempi reopen a debate touched on in my previous review of Mravinsky's live performance of the Fifth Symphony (DSCH No. 16) regarding excessively slow interpretations. In this case, Shostakovich marks the score Moderato and the metronome markings suggest he intended the movement to come in well under 9 minutes! I think it can be argued that the movement can support the broader tempi favoured in more recent interpretations, though whether this is what the composer intended is another issue altogether. Predictably, the slower renditions create a more elegiac or even morose mood in passages such as the Meno mosso at figure 13 and a sense of desolation in the climax thereafter (up to figure 19). What these slower renditions lose is a certain poignancy that Mehta and Perlman revealed in Shostakovich's gentle arabesques (such as at figure 13) and a degree of agitation and, dare I say it, nervousness that Oistrakh communicated (the chain-smoking insomniac perhaps?). In occupying the middle ground tempo-wise, combined with the relatively dry and immediate acoustic, Gringolts and Perlman create an intimate reverie that balances the more harrowing moments. The translucent string and harp chords of the final pages are mystical and full of expectation.

Gringolts and Perlman show their mastery throughout the Scherzo. I was particularly struck with the orchestral climax at figure 42 and the reprise of it featuring the soloist at figure 65. While the comparison recordings can range from the thuggish (Vengerov) to the brutal and even slightly deranged (Lydia Mordkovitch with Järvi and the Scottish National Orchestra; Chandos CHAN 8820), Perlman and Gringolts manage to make them dance, partly thanks to some spirited tambourine playing in the first instance and Gringolts' rhythmic swagger later on. While still retaining a degree of menace these passages sound much closer to the spirit of From Jewish Folk Poetry (The Song of Poverty in particular, with its "almost grotesque glee" to borrow from one commentator). I found the broader emotional range that Gringolts and Perlman explore in this movement uplifting in itself, but also mutually beneficial to the emotional balance of the work as a whole. Elsewhere the playing is crisp and the balance between soloist and orchestra near perfect, revealing some beautifully captured wind tones in the fugato section (from figure 49).

The Passacaglia is of course the emotional core of the work. The opening here is slightly reserved (forte rather than fortissimo perhaps), though the more understated timpani focus our attention on the horns' stentorian tones. Perlman phrases the wind chorale that follows with subtle pauses, as if suggesting a halting funeral cortege, after which Gringolts' opening measures sound utterly inconsolable. The next rotation of the passacaglia theme (where the cor anglais and bassoon take up the violin's lament while the soloist soars above) is beautifully balanced, from which point the movement builds to a riveting climax. Gringolts produces a ghostly yet dignified rendition of the horns' opening fanfare as the movement's postlude, which I found very moving.

The cadenza is also captivating. Gringolts uses a good deal more rubato than the comparison recordings (with perhaps the exception of Mordkovitch), reminding me at times of Milstein's interpretation of Bach's solo violin works. This is particularly evident in the l'istesso tempo section, which can sound a little robotic if the score is followed to the letter, though I think Gringolts' rhythmic freedom in the passage quoting the Scherzo theme (marked Allegretto), distorts the composer's intentions. As the momentum increases, spontaneity perhaps gains the upper hand over precision, and the culminating transition to the finale is not quite as secure as Vengerov's, but these are minor quibbles.

Like the Scherzo, the finale maintains superb energy and wit. The passage requiring left hand pizzicato (after figure 90) lacks the potency of Perlman and Vengerov, but elsewhere Gringolts more than holds his own technically. The passage over the wonderfully sonorous low E tuba pedal is tremendously exciting and the momentum from here to the end is impressive indeed, particularly the flying glissandi ending on the high E harmonic prior to figure 109 and the frenzied semiquavers that crown the final bars. Vengerov shades him for both speed and precision, but there isn't much in it.

In the end one would have to say this is an impressive performance. The liner notes quote Gringolts as saying, "I don't like to play a piece the same way twice." It will be interesting indeed if, in decades to come, he returns to the studio to have another crack at this. I'm sure the result will be different again but unlikely to surpass this fresh, energetic and compelling rendition. Gringolts takes his place alongside the comparison recordings without necessarily surpassing them - no mean feat, given the standard of the competition! Of the comparison recordings, Perlman as violinist tends to let the notes do the talking without recourse to exaggerated gestures, which is refreshing in many ways. Mordkovitch delivers the most demonic performance, Vengerov the most brilliant. Gringolts and Perlman impress with the individuality of this reading, its passion and commitment and finally the breadth of emotional terrain it traverses.

The Tchaikovsky Concerto is a quality performance though I find the transition from its sound world to Shostakovich's something of a wrench. Programmed in the reverse order (Shostakovich first) works much better to my taste.

Graeme Downes
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