Joshua Bell’s
recording of two of the most formidable works in the violin
concerto repertoire is a welcome addition to the global
catalogue. The happy surprise is that the middle movements of
both works are the gems, which speaks well for Bell’s growth
more as a musician than gifted practitioner.
Given its amenable
outlook, where the minor mode is more colour than temperament,
placing the Mendelssohn first, like planning a fine meal, makes
good sense.
The opening measures are
somewhat affected but the fire is soon lit and Bell offers up
the score with characteristic technical prowess and one of the
richest tones on the planet today. As the movement progresses
his melodic treatment is certainly “on the sleeve” but never all
over it.
Sony’s engineers have
done an excellent job capturing the collaboration with Camerata
Salzburg (whose timpanist - so vital to both works - would be
the envy of any major orchestra), which is led by Sir Roger
Norrington. What a pleasure to “hear” a true pianissimo and the
gaily bouncing pizzicati providing the perfect foil to Bell’s
near-perfect excursions to the stratosphere and forward-leaning
lines.
Sadly,
Norrington lets the band, especially the woodwinds, leave too
much meat on their accompanying chords and back-beats that is
only exacerbated by the reverberant acoustics all resulting in
slightly off ensemble with the soloist and leaving bits of muck
where crispness is preferred.
Bell’s first cadenza is
brashly heroic and filled with technical aplomb; it’s musical
and actual breaths provide a compellingly personal statement
that slips back easily to the Master’s famous arpeggiated
return.
The marvellous
transition to the Andante is exquisitely haunting and
gentle. Bell (left above) digs deep into Mendelssohn’s
sublime theme and captures his feeling with conviction and
integrity that is only marred by a tad too much portamento. The
coda is exceptional, floating along effortlessly, yet with the
musical goal always in sight.
The trills, which bid
“adieu”, have a wonderful sense of reluctance to abandon the
heavenly landscape in favour of the frenzy of notes that lie
just over the horizon.
The finale overflows
with panache and sense of fun. Bell’s “Catch me if you can”
rendering of the cascades of notes keeps everyone on their toes
and his unabashed full-bore, into-the-string sound production
soars delightfully out of the speakers throughout.
Beethoven’s
concerto was dedicated to his very close friend Stephan von
Breuning, who was instrumental in the re-writing of the libretto
for Fidelio and, when reading between the lines in their
correspondence, a possible contender as the “Immortal Beloved.”
Much in the same spirit, Bell took on the task of not only
offering his vision of this masterwork, but writing new
cadenzas, giving his unique insight in two ways.
Norrington (pictured
right, above) seems much more at home, guiding a performance
that features a spectacular dynamic range and – generally –
great attention to detail. However, similar to some moments in
the Mendelssohn, he too often plays fast and loose with note
lengths (robbing the dotted halves; moving forward sooner than
indicated) and rhythmic accuracy: the two eighths in the first
movement’s theme allowed to be lazy not exactly even,
which leads to ensemble lapses and an unsettling mood.
For his part, Bell once
again demonstrates his ability to not only conquer the notes but
provide meaning to them. He understands the incredible
inner-joy when Beethoven slips into the G minor passages in the
outer movements and is ably assisted there and elsewhere
(notably the coda of the Allegro) by Camerata’s principal
bassoon who matches him note-for-note with style and verve:
Fabulous!
The first-movement
cadenza seethes with much agitation, but, like the music before
it, contains a wide range of levels and feelings, tastefully
echoing the preceding motifs and their development.
It falls to the muted
Larghetto to provide the finest moments of this CD. Here
the minds meet, the subtext is revealed and the sense of purpose
never lost. Bell plunges into the emotional depths and releases
an incredibly controlled whimsical delivery of his legato
variant overtop of the appropriately discreet plucked strings.
More than his cadenzas, this section brought a fresh look at
music that “everyone knows.”
The Rondo, with
parts of the incubating “Pastorale” joyously leaking into the
fabric, can’t fail to bring a smile to all who enter its
domain. Finally, true stacatti are heard – if only from the
horns; perhaps on another occasion their willingness to truncate
their glorious sound in favour of the much-needed, drier
contrast will be contagious and result in a defining performance
of this study of greatness.
