Customer Reviews

Sibelius, Khachaturian: Violin Concertos

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At an age at which Heifetz was contemplating retirement and Elman should have been, Aaron Rosand issued a commanding, authoritative recording of the Beethoven and Brahms Concertos (Vox VXP 7902, 22:4). Now, two years later, he has paired a craggy Sibelius with a kinetic Khachaturian, evincing full command of the works' power and exoticism, respectively. Only Milstein and perhaps Shumsky could boast such violinistic longevity (consider, for example, Elman's senescent and deliberate, if genial, reading of Khachaturian's Concerto from his 69th year, which hardly approaches Rosand's in technical assurance).

Aaron Rosand's sound has varied little through his recorded career: it's robust and rugged, with a mild acidity that, highlighting almost every note, sets his tone apart from the blander, smoother, and smaller timbres of younger players (and almost every player now is younger). That sound owes a share of its individuality, of course, to the magnificent Kochanski Guarneri of 1741, which, as Rosand says, has been his voice for 43 years; but it's the result of a complex interaction between that violin and a master who undoubtedly could, as Heifetz did, project his individuality through any instrument (having heard Rosand try violins at William Moennig and Son's shop in Philadelphia, I can confirm the stability of his sound, at least in that setting, across platforms). But far from merely luxuriating in his recognizable tone, Rosand laces whatever he performs with strong fiber, an essential toughness that reveals itself as tellingly in lesser-known works like Joachim's Hungarian (Vox CDX 5102) and Arensky's (Vox 7211, 23:4) Concertos, which were for a long time almost his private domain, as in masterworks like Tchaikovsky's Concerto (again Vox 7211) or Bach's Solo Sonatas and Partitas (Vox VXP2 7901, 22:2).

Rosand's waves of inspiration lash against granite in the Sibelius Concerto's first movement; he sings warmly in its second (the trace of acid in his tone ensuring that the music won't cloy) and slashes masterfully through the finale's craggy darkness-all the while demonstrating the durability of his tonal and stylistic personality through his 71st year. If Khachaturian's Concerto doesn't provide him as many such opportunities for discovery, he and conductor Kees Bakels engage in a cogent dialogue in the first movement's middle section, and he brings a jazzy cheek to the cadenza's closing passages. The second movement's sprawl may be due more to its materials than its performers; but, in any case, Rosand and Bakels come to life again in the alternately sprightly and brassy finale.

The decline in influence of Heifetz's benchmark recordings has freed violinists to invest Sibelius's Concerto with fresh insight; and Rosand's new performance joins recent ones by Maxim Vengerov and Joshua Bell in transfusing new personality into the work. And whether or not Mozart's Emperor would judge that Khachaturian's Concerto has too many notes, Rosand plays each of them with twangy zest. That sizzle sets him apart from violinists like Oscar Shumsky, who, despite-or because of-their unvarnished merit, appeal more to colleagues than to general audiences. By comparison, Rosand's a demagogue, rotund in oratory and resonant in vocal quality. Vox's engineers have provided depth and clarity appropriate to Sibelius' Concerto (but with a close focus on the soloist) and have captured reasonably well Khachaturian's dollops of sound, generously dished out by Bakels and the Malaysian Philharmonic Orchestra.

All lovers of the violin, and general listeners as well, may count themselves fortunate that Rosand's artistry isn't available only in reissue, and that his playing maintains, or exceeds, a level familiar from his recordings a generation ago. Strongly recommended.

Robert Maxham

Though all the usual attributes of a Rosand performance are present --- technique, temperament, and tone --- I can't say these recordings rank in the top third of his many recorded performances. Rosand has been consistently let down by his orchestral partners. The Sibelius, in particular, lacks heft here. The bristling utterances that should reinforce the violin's dramatic statements do not excite; I felt an overall lack of involvement from the orchestra. The Sibelius is rife with passionate themes, and when a first-class string section such as the Philadelphia carries them, you feel it in the gut. If Dylana Jensen could get Ormandy (what a partner!) as a virtual unknown, then where does that leave Mr. Rosand? It's sad.

At this stage in his career, Rosand cannot quite generate the whirlwind of sound that placed him in the forefront of his generation, so it is all the more important that he have a strong ally. The Khachaturian comes through much better; the Malaysian group has the necessary mechanical precision to bring it off and the recording is generous with the color.

In summary, the Sibelius is worth it only if you want to hear Rosand's ideas on the solo part.

I tend to be sceptical of "cult artists" whose fringe reputation seems to be in proportion to the rarity of their recordings, never for major labels and always with improbable, third-rate orchestras. If they are so great, why don't they record with the Berlin Phil and Rattle, and for EMI or DG, or even Chandos?

Like Ruggiero Ricci (who after starting out for Decca continued his recording career on LP for labels such as Vox and with orchestras like the Luxembourg Philharmonic or the Bochum Symphony), Aaron Rosand is such a cult figure and this disc - two warhorses of the 20th Century Violin Concerto litterature, played with as outlandish an orchestra as the Malaysian Philharmonic, is a good illustration. My scepticism towards Rosand has been reinforced by an interview I read of him, where he expressed musical views and tastes that, at best, seemed very conservative. Apparently, acceptable violin concertos, for him, EXclude Berg's and Weill's - he didn't even mention Schoenberg, thank God - which seems to me to point to a very restricted intellectual and musical compass. Granted, I have heard a few recordings of Rosand, and particularly of Bloch's first Piano Sonata - a composition certainly more thorny and rugged than Berg's VC - and it was a good reading, a bit thin in tone but very pure and well up to the composition's demands (Hebraic Legacies). But anyway, whatever the fiddler's merits, how is the Malaysian Philharmonic ever going to compete with any of the major orchestras that have recorded these two pieces?

Well - wide off the mark, and hats off - at least in Khachaturian.

Rosand's tone is indeed smallish but pure, and digital virtuosity (of which there is plenty - no arthritis heard here, although I've noticed two bars at 2:48 in the finale where he doctors the score to make it easier to negotiate) is never at the expense of tonal control. Like the composition's dedicatee and premiere performer David Oistrakh, and like Perlman (Khachaturian: Violin Concerto), Rosand plays his own cadenza in the first movement. But what sets his interpretation apart, at least in the first two movements is, in keeping with the interpretive tradition established by the composer himself in his two recordings from the early 1950s, first with Leonid Kogan (1951 for Melodiya, now on Khachaturian: Concerto for violin / Concerto - Rhapsody for violin & Orchestra) then with Oistrakh (1954 HMV, Aram Khachaturian: Masquerade; Gayaneh; Violin Concerto), its constant forward-motion and energy, and also, even more than them, its refusal to milk it even in the more lyrical sections or movements. Thus, other than Oistrakh's live 1946 recording from the Prague festival with Kubelik (in dismal sound alas, Concertos - Liszt/Prokofiev/Khachaturian), it is the fastest version among all those I've heard in these two movements. Some may find this too uninflected and unfeeling. I happen to think that interpreters from the 2nd half of the twentieth century onwards have tended, for the sake of showing what great "interpreters" they are, to sentimentalize too much the lyrical themes, forgetting along the way an essential teaching of Heifetz: the lyricism is all the more burning as it is taken at a pressing tempo. So I'm very happy with Rosand's Heifetzian ways.

His finale is slightly more relaxed, more along the line of Oistrakh's and Khachaturian's stereo remake from 1965 (Sibelius: Concerto Op47; Franck: Sonata for violin in A), which doesn't mean he lingers, and it is perfectly convincing as it is.

Oh, and: although this may point to limitations of my discriminative faculties, I hear no difference between the Malaysian Philharmonic under Kees Baekels and a major western orchestra under a major conductor. I'm impressed. And what a glorious cello section.

This can safely be your recording of Khachaturian's VC if you have only one (other options, to limit myself to stereo, would be Oistrakh, Perlman and Klimov - the latter not listed here, but you will find it on the UK sister company under ASIN B000027Q3W), and should be in your collection, along with all those and more, if you are a serious collector.

Though one not so frequently exercised, I find the coupling of Khachaturian's Concerto with Sibelius' a perfectly appropriate choice stylistically: both works are sweepingly lyrical, and there is a long passage in the finale of Khachaturian that sounds irresistibly Sibelian, with a Kalevala-like epic sweep. With all the glorious versions that have been recorded since Heifetz' premiere with Beecham in 1935 (Heifetz Plays Strauss (Violin Sonata op. 18), Sibelius (Violin Concerto), Prokofiev (Violin Concerto 2)), it would have been surprising if Rosand-Bakels had gone directly at the top of the lot - and they don't. Although Rosand is commendable for his overall forward-moving pace (but not as forward-moving as Heifetz or Stern, Early Concerto Recordings, Vol. 2), the first movement offers many opportunities to slow down and enjoy the view, so to speak, and he takes some of them - but, as Heifetz and Stern have shown, this is ultimately at the expense of the music's forward motion, its drive, its sense of unity, its dramatic effectiveness. The coda lacks fire. Also, Rosand's relative thinness of sound leaves me here slightly frustrated. All those double stops need to be played with a bigger tone to wring out all their lyricism.

No such reservations with the slow movement, taken again at a relatively forward-moving pace, more in the stylistic manner of the 1950s (Heifetz, Gitlis, Francescatti) than in today's broader fashion, and this is just fine, as it exudes all the required passionate lyricism. But the finale's attempts at being vigorously articulated don't quite compensate for the somewhat trudging tempo - an approach first encountered with Ginette Neveu's famed but over-estimated 1946 recording (Brahms, Sibelius: Violin Concertos), although not as exaggerated as with her. Still, it evokes the heavy canter of sturdy draft horse rather than the unleashed gallop of an Arabian stallion: fitting maybe in Sibelius' nordic expanses, but so much less dynamic and effective. Again Rosand's tone lacks fullness especially in the final pages, and I find the orchestra thicker and less detailed than in Khachaturian.

This remains an acceptable version of Sibelius, but not an exceptional one. So this is mainly for Khachaturian.

No superlatives can do justice to the music-making of Aaron Rosand. Here are more examples: The somewhat somber Sibelius embellished with Rosand's usual romantic touches - simply superb,
and an incredible performance of the seldom-heard Khachaturian.

Aaron Rosand, now in his 70s, is undoubtedly one of the finest violinists of the 20th century. Unfortunately, either this recording was made during a bad day for Rosand, or his playing is showing the effects of age. Though his basic technical facility is still intact, there has been a change in his tone quality; his vibrato has become very wide and slow, and his tone is often rough. The marvelous, precise control he's displayed in previous recordings is often lacking now, with patches of audible unevenness that do not seem to be deliberate.

Rosand's tempo choices here are often slow, and in places, such as the second movement of the Khachaturian or the opening of the Sibelius, the impression of exaggerated slowness is exacerbated by the articulation of each individual note, disrupting the flow of the line. There are occasional moments of the "old" Rosand that sparkle through, and they are delightful; fast passages are typically better than slow ones, probably because they aren't as affected by the vibrato.

On the positive side, the conductor and orchestra accompany sympathetically and competently, though it's a little sad that an artist of Rosand's stature could not command the services of a truly world-class ensemble for this recording. The sound is excellent, and the balance avoids the over-miking of the soloist that has become all too commonplace.

In a concert-hall situation, Rosand's artistry alone might carry the day. But given the abundance of excellent recordings of these two concertos, this CD is likely one for hard-core Rosand collectors only. Those who wish to sample Rosand's artistry are better off with his Sarasate album, or his recording of the Ernst and Joachim concertos.

There is a superb coupling of the Khachaturian and Sibelius by David Oistrakh, though it is sadly out of print. Otherwise, listeners will need to buy these concertos separately. Henryk Szeryng, Louis Kaufman, and Julian Sitkovetsky all have terrific recordings of the Khachaturian. The Sibelius is the most heavily-recorded violin concerto in existence; try Cho-Liang Lin for a conventional modern reading, or Ivry Gitlis for something a little off the beaten path.

This is an outstanding new version of these 2 masterpieces. Rosand plays with as much passion as anyone, and the orchestral accompaniments are excellent. At the bargain price this cd is a must.

I love everything about this recording -- the Sibelius is absolute magic and the Khatchaturian is as exciting as they get.