Mediciarts MM023-2, 77:56 (www.mediciarts.co.uk) **** [Distr. by Naxos]:
This album proves somewhat misleading: it sports WDR: The Cologne Broadcasts on its back cover, but these enclosed inscriptions by the late Michael Rabin (1936-1972) are his stereo 1960 EMI and 1959 Samuel Goldwyn Studios commercial recordings, not any “live” broadcast materials. This is not to say that collectors should not gravitate to Rabin’s fine collaborations with Goossens and Slatkin, unless they already possess them in earlier CD incarnations. Rabin, of course, as Ivan Galamian’s star pupil, possessed a dazzling technique and sweetly-honed tone, quite capable of exulting in ravishing colors. The D Minor Wieniawski Concerto makes a perfect vehicle for his easy, fluid virtuosity, much as it had provided the young Isaac Stern an equally powerful opportunity for lyric bravura. Unlike Heifetz, who severely cut the tuttis to showcase his solo part, Rabin stays within the broader course of the full score, and the Romance proves a noble realization of grace and articulate projection. Frisky fireworks indeed mark the last movement, a gypsy dance sporting wide leaps and alternating, rapid passages requiring dexterous fingerboard work, all carried off with facile aplomb by a natural virtuoso.
The Paganini Concerto recording is a stereo remake of Rabin’s 1954 collaboration with Lovro von Matacic, both of which have Rabin’s performing the first movement cadenza by Carl Flesch. Here, Goossens plays the abbreviated version of the opening tutti, not the extended score offered by Monteux for youthful soloist Yehudi Menuhin. Nevertheless, Rabin’s entry and subsequent figurations enjoy a grand leisure made possibly only by his thorough command of every pyrotechnical element he encounters. A glorious run capped off by a suspended flute tone is the least lovely weapon in this astonishing arsenal. Rabin’s legatos are pure gold, a distilled, polished line without flaw. Rabin’s closest rival in this spitfire music would be Zino Francescatti. Sweet strokes for the Adagio, a long line and a fluent trill. Light spiccati open the last movement, and the relish only increases as Rabin’s weaves his way through Paganini’s fleet figures and roulades, the orchestral flourishes thoroughly sympathetic. Champagne for connoisseurs.
The series of inscriptions with Felix Slatkin (10-11 September 1959) each basks in the comfortable virtues of the established virtuoso. Fluent, balanced phrases and expertly controlled nuances delight us in the sparkling wizardry of the Saint-Saens, here played much in the Heifetz tradition. Rabin’s occasionally rasping bow pressure inserts visceral excitement into what would otherwise be a standard, excellent reading of a familiar staple. The Sarasate urges more to the gypsy camp, not so refined in texture as the Saint-Saens. Over-civilized; rather, Rabin opts more for a Ricci experience. Rabin plays the Lento section for its long-lined, Andalusian beauty; later he can burns our eyes and ears out with prestissimo sparks. Cognoscenti will savor Rabin’s approach to tempo rubato, the nice adjustments to the melodic line as he repeats the big theme in the piu lento prior to the uncanny vivace. Rabin brings a “Sephardic” verve to his Hora Staccato, with Slatkin’s sarcastic support underneath, the dervish rhythms each in gay apparel. Finally, the perennial Moto perpetuo, with strutting figures in the bass, Rabin’s tireless bowing an indication of the supple youth of his limitless talent, taken from us all too soon.
— Gary Lemco
