MOZART: Violin Concerto No. 3 in G Major, K. 216; BRAHMS: Violin Concerto in D Major, Op. 77 – Giaconda de Vito, violin/Royal Philharmonic Orchestra/Sir Thomas Beecham (Mozart)/ German Opera House Orchestra, Berlin/Paul van Kempen
Naxos Historical 8.111349, 63:57 [Not Distr. In the U.S.] ****:
Giaconda de Vito (1907-1994) made her first London appearance at the Albert Hall (29 April 1948) with Victor de Sabata in the Brahms Violin Concerto, which soon became her own signature piece. As part of the renaissance of Italian violin playing after 1945–which would include another fine master, Franco Gulli–Giaconda de Vito impressed with her clear tone, string technique, and fervent musical imagination. Producer Mark Obert-Thorn here resurrects two of de Vito’s remarkable inscriptions, of which the Brahms with Paul van Kempen (25 May 1941) had seen a short revival on a private label produced by Albert ten Brink some fifteen years ago.
The Mozart G Major Concerto with Sir Thomas Beecham (3-4 May 1949) enjoys a natural fluency and buoyant spirit, de Vito’s tone somewhat pinched but accurate in its wiry strength, not far removed from the Szigeti sound, only more dependable. The cadenza in the first movement Allegro is by Sir Donald Tovey, de Vito’s generous way of paying homage to British hosts. The D Major Adagio, of course, offers that miracle of invention called Mozart’s youth, and de Vito molds the phrases with tender cantabile applications. Her capacity for generous vibrato and broad phrasing helps the melodic tissue float above the sea of strings and woodwinds that Beecham touches lightly to the canvas. The brief sojourn into B Minor has all of the tragedy that intimations of mortality bring. Beecham seems quite content to linger in this intimately bucolic mode indefinitely, and de Vito accommodates him, whether in A Major or D Major, with equal ardor. The so-called “Strassburg” finale Beecham takes as a galant motif for the oboes to which the violin adds deft flourishes. De Vito’s hearty tone often resembles a viola’s darker burnished sound, but her work along the G string and her brisk passagework certify to her fiddle’s versatility. The middle section enjoys the milieu of the Parisian salon, the strings saltato with de Vito’s gently urging the runs forward. The negotiations between A Minor, G Minor, and the inevitable G Major all coalesce in happy ensemble, and a most naturally decorative realization this has turned out to be.
The Brahms Concerto pairs de Vito with that underrated but venerable Dutch conductor Paul van Kempen (1893-1955), whose personal style could often take a page from Toscanni’s energetically literalist ethos. Besides the Apollonian energy de Vito casts upon the opening movement of the Brahms, she quite palpably brings a tender devotion to the score that bespeaks unbridled sympathy. Once again, de Vito’s ample tone and impeccable sense of phrase move in alternately bold and expressive strokes–somewhat more quickly than in her later 1953 inscription–across the broad canvas of this first movement. Kempen’s French horns, oboe, and bassoon prove particularly alert to their function in filling out the violin’s sonic tissue. For the strong cantabile theme de Vito has only pure, expressive energy, her typical penchant for “throwing herself emotionally into everything she played” (Luciano Iorio). The Joachim cadenza, de Vito’s steady companion for the Brahms, allows her liquid tone and flexibility of phrase their full due. The movement to the coda sails in a world of distilled poetry.
Though Sarasate objected to the oboe’s owning the second movement Adagio’s great melody, de Vito accepts her role with lyrical acumen, her fine-tuning of acoustic balances and shifts of register masterful. Flute and French horn add their color pathos to the proceedings, poignant and tempered by an evolving plaintive sensibility. A sizzling attack opens the gypsy Rondo: Allegro giocoso ma non troppo vivace, the Berlin ensemble strings as astringent as de Vito’s peppery figures. The various scales move in symmetrical motion, fiercely driven, to which Kempen’s spirited conducting contributes its own metric intricacies. The cadenza, accompanied, wails provocatively as it moves to the martial statement of the tune over a thunderous tympani. Nothing “cuddly” in this rendition of the Brahms, to parody one unkind critic’s quibble with de Vito’s approach. This Brahms sings of a long and fruitful association.
–Gary Lemco
