Sony Classical Great Performances 82876-78760-2, 57:19 ****:
It would scarcely warrant another review of the tired combination of the Mendelssohn and Tchaikovsky violin concertos, were it not for the spectacular playing of the late Zino Francescatti (1902-1991), my first great love among violin virtuosi, whose silken tone never quit. Francescatti and Szell (1 December 1961) take a brisk approach to the Mendelssohn, driving it hard without compromising its singing qualities. Many have commented on Francescatti’s penchant for “lightly amorous, vivacious utterance” in this performance, a reading which sparkles with both sentiment and sophistication. I had already been beguiled by Francecatti’s earlier recording of these two works with Dimitri Mitropoulos, and I have never relinquished my admiration of their version of the Tchaikovsky (ML 4965). But it seems that here, with Szell, Francescatti has achieved just the right balance between aerial virtuosity and lyric expression to capture the Mendelssohn spirit exactly.
The collaboration with Thomas Schippers (2 February 1965) enjoys that same lustrous tone quality in Francescatti’s playing, the tension fierce but not so pointed as in the earlier version with Mitropoulos. Commentators have compared Francescatti’s driving urgency to a rapier trust, especially when he inserts the Auer D Major scale in thirds into the cadenza. Schippers, whom I saw in concert once, at Lincoln Center in the Sibelius Second Symphony, brings his own natural passion to the Tchaikovsky, as some heady sparks fly – even in the pesant, marcato passages. Splendid trumpet work from the Philharmonic. Balletic effects abound in the riffs with the oboe, bassoon, and pizzicato strings. Francescatti’s flute tone pierces the stratosphere. Beautifully controlled trill in the cadenza, the double stops graduated into an outburst of effulgent ardor. Both gracious and headstrong, the music moves through the recapitulation with deliberated, exalted melancholy. As lovely as Schippers’ woodwinds are in the Canzonetta, my preference for the Mitropoulos inscription prevails; but this does not negate Franceascatti’s tempered utterance and the strong string aura surrounding his projection of the Italianate serenade. The last movement, a Russian hopak with demonic ambitions, pens with a wicked chord from Schippers, then Francescatti’s cadenza into a mad dance. This is as close as Tchakovsky gets to Moussorgsky’s A Night on Bare Mountain. Excellent miking into woodwinds and basses, the Philharmonic sounding as vibrant as I have experienced live, a real tour de force from all principals.
— Gary Lemco
