Erik Friedman plays = MENDELSSOHN: Violin Concerto in E Minor, Op. 64; PAGANINI: Violin Concerto No. 1 in D Major, Op. 6; SAINT-SAENS: Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso, Op. 28 – Erick Friedman, violin/London Symphony Orchestra/ Seiji Ozawa (Mendelssohn)/Chicago Symphony/Walter Hendl
HDTT HDCD106, 68:20 [www.highdeftapetransfers.com] ****:
I had the good fortune to meet Erick Friedman (1939-2004) at the Round Top Festival in Texas, where he both performed and led master classes. Mr. Friedman, a pupil of Galamian, Milstein, and Heifetz, took an extremely modest attitude as concerned his playing, since he spoke of the violin as “an unnatural instrument” that has to be “coaxed or compelled to do one’s bidding.” He managed to coax some sweet sounds–despite having sustained arm and hand injuries in a car accident in the late 1980s– for the Mozart A Major “Turkish” Concerto with the student orchestra that summer.
HDTT remasters two RCA recordings Friedman committed to disc in his virtually flawless style: the 1966 Mendelssohn Concerto from London with Ozawa, and the Paganini and Saint-Saens from 1962 Chicago under the CSO’s worthy assistant conductor Walter Hendl. The thin rather nasal sound Friedman elicits from his instrument for the Mendelssohn Concerto will only exacerbate the many (invidious) comparisons his style invites to that of Jascha Heifetz, although we can discern differences in phraseology, bow pressure, and application of vibrato. But the “hot knife through butter” effect persists, as Friedman makes his ineluctable way to the first movement cadenza. I find the entire Ozawa approach understated–almost to the point of Anatole Fistoulari invisibility–although the LSO principals like Barry Tuckwell make their presence felt. Freidman’s arioso for the Andante proves eminently tender and lyrical, the amoroso quality closer in kind to Menuhin than Heifetz, and that is a compliment. In the final movement’s quicksilver figures, we do have a better aural definition in the woodwinds than is wont in many recordings, the flute, clarinet, and oboe, lending deft support to the elfin dance carried on by Friedman and the LSO strings and horns.
Not much decay time before the bombast of the D Major Paganini Concerto begins, the long circus introduction the order of the day. Friedman injects a degree of contemplation as well as bravura audacity in to the Paganini mix, the balance between salon intimacy and carnival ostentation a tenuous aerial act. Curious, that Heifetz himself played little Paganini except an occasional Caprice in the Ferdinand David edition for piano accompaniment. Friedman rather relishes the double stop thirds, sudden alternations of bowed and plucked notes, glissandi, and demonic stutter steps asked of him, all in the course of a lyrico-dramatic approximation of an Italian operatic scene. The linear drive of the performance–notwithstanding the digressions through chromatic passages and harmonics–proves quite blistering, a real testament to the youthful prowess of Friedman and his spirited accompanist.
Attacca to the Adagio, another moment of pompous chords answered by a lyrical tenor not far from the spirit of Neapolitans like Giuseppe de Stefano. Part march, part swaggering canter, the violin melody rises along with the oboe and tremolo strings to achieve some real fire, likely borrowed from Mount Etna. Friedman keeps a light, flexible and on the Allegro spirituoso and its aftermath in high harmonics, a campy but effective tribute to fiddle acrobatics in grand style. Recall, Paganini wanted the whole concerto in E-flat so he could tune the violin up, scoradatura-style, and compel gasps from mortals and immortals at once. We can certainly spare a gape of astonishment or two for Mr. Friedman.
The 1863 Saint-Saens Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso offers another Heifetz staple–his recordings with Barbirolli and Steinberg classics of their kind–but Friedman has much to offer here as well, by way of razor-sharp attacks and a keen sense of the Spanish rhythms that drive the piece forward. The various syncopations and color elements guarantee this tribute to the art of Pablo de Sarasate endures as a permanent virtuoso vehicle and audience pleaser.
— Gary Lemco
