Violinist Leonidas Kavakos (b. 1970) has assumed the role of Principal Guest Artist of the Camerata Salzburg (established 1952) since the 2001/02 season. A pupil of Josef Gingold, Kavakos packs a supremely clean, sweet tone, reminiscent–in the Adagio of the G Major Concerto–of Isaac Stern in his better days. Kavakos plays the Falmouth Stradivarius of 1692, and it realizes the music of Mozart, mostly composed when he was between 17 and 19 years old, with especial poignancy. Kavakos provides his own cadenzas for each of the five concertos. The opening Concerto in B-flat Major, K. 207, aside from revealing Kovakos’ alluring tone, does little to catch our ears until the brisk, heightened runs and Mannheim rockets of the last movement in both solo and orchestral parts. A firm, directed line, sizzling attacks, and beguiling inner voices attest to a happy ambiance between Kavakos and his veteran ensemble.
The more nasal, galant D Major Concerto, K. 211 enjoys a decidedly French affect, the first movement having a martial element we can hear in later piano concertos. Played in a salon style, the piece allows Kavakos to relish his rapid alternation of bowed styles, including a glorious singing line on long-held notes. The second movement hints at Dvorak’s Cello Concerto. The last movement, a French Rondeau, less concerned with brilliance than with elegance of line, strikes one’s fancy for its poised figures.
With the A Major “Turkish” Concerto we enter, along with the concertos in G and D, a new realm of Mozart, inventiveness well beyond the mere precocity of youth. Kavakos inserts little interludes and flourishes ad libitum. A light hand and incisive attacks reign in both solo and ensemble parts of the Turkish Concerto, the interior lines clear enough to reveal ingenious tugs among the woodwinds and strings. The same transparency of texture marks the Adagio, where Kavakos has an airy, plaintive accompaniment from the Camerata strings and winds, his own sound often concentrated on the tip of the bow. The Tempo di Menuetto starts out civilly enough; then, its janissary impulses saturate the air and the first cadenza enters, so that even the Minuet perks up. Kavakos rasps and paces his way through the oriental bazaars of sound with hearty aplomb, the col legno strings in full force, as are the ends of cadences, sounding like a winter wind. The G Major exudes a breezy, divertimento character, outdoor music that we find in the Mozart serenades. Nice interchange of violin and oboe in the patter episodes of the first movement. Wit, elegance, and a touch of the hunt contribute to the colorful mix of the final Rondeau: Allegro. The D Major is perhaps the most literal of all of Kavakos’ realizations, albeit peppered with his especial cadenzas and curlicues. Despite an opening movement that moves briskly, he opts for the more traditional, slow Andante for the second movement, though he is long on cantabile. Wiry strength and lilt for the Allegro ma non troppo.
Kavakos doubtless wishes to stretch his musical wings into conducting, so we have his muscular E-flat Symphony of Mozart, with tympani and flutes in full gear. The reduced orchestra allows the dissonances of the opening bars their full effect, leading to a broad statement of the serpentine main theme. Pomp and circumstance for the remainder of the Allegro, viscerally projected by bravura ensemble, more than ready to take the repeat. Spirited movement, intensely etched colors in the chromatic Andante, shapely architecture in a style reminiscent of Harnoncourt. Lithe figures for the Menuetto, the touch of acid at cadence attacks just pungent enough to keep us glued to the proceedings. The Trio drips with Old World charm, even a touch of a musette. Little touches and adjustments to timbre, rhythm and terraced dynamics keep the finale bustling, enough to make us realize that Kavakos’ musical future is assured well beyond his bow arm’s longevity.
— Gary Lemco
