The American violinist
Yehudi Menuhin's importance to the violin is not immediately obvious
- certainly he didn't have (by far) the most reliable technique, nor
was his tone anything like Elman's or Kreisler's. His repertoire was
small compared with Heifetz's and any number of the next generation
of young violinists - Michael Rabin, Ginette Neveu et al were more
interesting, more brilliant.
But to compare him with these other violinists would be to miss the
point of Menuhin - in much of what he played he came the closest of
all to approaching what made up the core of the music - his
performances and recordings of the Beethoven and Brahms concerti
delve deeper into the music than many of his colleagues. Later he
was to be remembered more for the formation of his school, his
humanitarian efforts, his difficulties in the late 1940s with the
violin as well as his "cross-over" attempts with Stefan Grapelli and
Ravi Shankar (long before the term had been coined). But always
there was the music.
These two releases by Naxos Historical show different aspects of
this great artist when he was a teenager. The earliest of these was
made when in 1931 (the Bruch) when he was 15. Much is said of how
mature Menuhin's playing was when he was young and this performance
(for it is nothing less than one, despite the early recording
conditions) shows just how, and why HMV had signed him up at such a
young age to record with them.
It is a
sensational performance - without ever sentimentalizing the music,
he revels in the interpretative opportunities of the concerto.
Later, he would record it in a famous version with Efrem Kurtz, but
technically and interpretatively this beats that recording
hands-down. His playing is remarkably free of artifice and is
touched with an innocence that was a feature of Menuhin's
performances, but at a level which he would never again capture.
Landon Ronald was the in-house accompanist at that time (he also
conducted for many other soloists) and his treatment of the
orchestral parts is sympathetic and not at all obstrusive.
(Menuhin with Elgar, left)
A year later he would record the Elgar violin concerto with Edward
Elgar himself, and it has never sounded better on disc than in this
transfer by Mark Obert-Thorne. Years after the recording, one
marvels at the sympathy Menuhin had with Elgar's music - remember,
it had only been recorded once at that time, by Albert Sammons and
Henry Wood. Obviously London had made a big impression on the young
Menuhin - he was later to make it his home. The pairing of the young
Menuhin with the elderly Elgar was a gimmick, as the producer later
admitted, but it was a gamble that paid off handsomely. Menuhin is
completely at home with Elgar's sound-world and his performance
closely resembles Sammons', always molto expressivo and
heart-on-sleeve, except that Sammons' even faster tempi leave
Menuhin's already swift ones in the dust. To be sure, Menuhin is
even at his age not totally at home with the technicalities and he
sounds strained from time to time.
But the noble insights he has into the music - the slow movement and the
accompanied cadenza especially more than make up for this. Listen to
how he expertly brings out the themes in the cadenza, making it
sound like the dream, realizing Elgar's strange conception (a
cadenza never had such a pivotal role as in this concerto), making
the return of the orchestra sound like the awakening from a dream
that it is supposed to sound like. His playing is gutsy and full of
fire, yet introspection is available when appropriate, and above all
wonderfully flexible in a manner he would not repeat.
This disc brings two classics of the gramophone together and to miss
it would be criminal, especially when Naxos offers it at such a low
price.
The
second disc is worth investing in as well -- Menuhin is here a few
years older and his accompanist is his teacher George(s) Enescu. His
performance of the Mendelssohn here already shows an understanding
of the Weltschmerz that he would explore in the later recordings of
the concerto, but again with an innocence of youth. He may be
technically more secure here than in the later recording, especially
with Furtwangler, but in both this and the Lalo, the conductor's
accompaniment is a tad too polite and deferential - not enough
characterization of the music and too self-effacing, too low key.
Still, one can enjoy Menuhin's treatment of the violin part, like a
soprano voice, singing always and with his agogic tempo adjustments
that made his interpretations special. Perhaps he felt restricted by
the presence of Enescu, yet from time to time his forceful
personality imposes itself. His performance of the second movement
is notable for the assured use of portamento and glissandi, and
sings like no other.
(Menuhin with Enescu, above)
In the Lalo, Menuhin shows virtuosity while attempting to
characterize the music - the result is attractive and riveting,
within the confines of the rather limited sound quality here - this
music really needed modern sound for it to fully show off its
colours.
I would recommend the second disc to fans of Menuhin, as he bettered
himself in the Mendelssohn with Furtwangler, but will add that both
discs will help you better understand why he was so revered as a
child.
