Warner
has consolidated some of Repin’s well-known discs into a slip-cased
four CD box. Each disc has decided virtues and in the case of the Tchaikovsky
– which he recently re-recorded with Gergiev (coupled with the
Miaskovsky) - his earlier traversal is the more convincing.
The discs show him in the round as concerto soloist and recitalist
and at the embryonic stage of his musical friendship with Roby
Lakatos – in the Louvre concert, though there’s less than three
minutes of that collaboration.
The
Tchaikovsky is straightforward in the best sense; the tone is
focused and sweet, rhythms are buoyant and there’s considerable
precision over articulation and passagework – especial care
is taken when it comes to diminuendi. It’s a relatively measured
performance, lyrically shaped in the slow movement where he’s
slightly slower than with Gergiev and good in the finale. Maybe
it’s not the most arresting of readings but it’s thoroughly
convincing. The same is true of the Sibelius where Krivine brings
out some nobly moulded string writing from the LSO and where
Repin avoids the bleached effect so indulged by violinists who
offer musical incident over musical architecture. His is a richly
romantic reading – clean, unaffected and sensitive without perhaps
the last ounce of individuality to elevate it to the higher
echelon.
He
joined with Menuhin in these three Mozart Concertos. Interestingly
he confesses to mixed feelings about the one I admire the most,
K218, which he didn’t then play in public – I don’t know if
he’s been subsequently reconciled to it. His Mozart has sweetness
without raffiné. Accents aren’t detonated, Menuhin is acute
when it comes to the weight of string attacks, notably overlooked
bass lines – see the opening of K216 for that. I liked the earlier
Concerto as well which is very justly scaled; the Turkish gets
a most affectionate slow movement and he digs into his lower
strings in its finale, egged on by the capricious orchestral
pizzicati.
His
Prokofiev disc is particularly successful due in no small measure
to his collaboration with Boris Berezovsky. Highlights are the
precision of his rhythmic free fall of the Scherzo of the Second
and the particular nature of his characterisation of the First
– where his sense of intimacy and withdrawal is most affecting.
I was lucky enough to have heard him earlier this year – quite
unexpectedly – at the Wednesday afternoon public rehearsal concert
that the Concertgebouw Orchestra gives. He played the First
Prokofiev Concerto and served renewed notice that he is one
of the most adept and understanding interpreters of the composer
now before us.
The
final disc is a chamber collaboration.
His Debussy is more obviously expressive than a natural aristocrat
such as Grumiaux – but also more brittle. Berezovsky brings
out the wit of his part but overall Repin seeds to Grumiaux’s
pawky humour in the second movement. He employs a desiccated
vibrato to start the last movement and then screws up the tension;
it’s an engaged performance but only a partial one (a few noises
off when it comes to the violin sound, as well). He deploys
a charmingly feminine sound at the start of the Schubert in
what is a most attractive performance, albeit the piano sometimes
covers him in the Andantino. He’s joined by Anton Barachovsky,
who plays Violin I, in a first class performance of the Prokofiev
Sonata for two violins, the expressive highlight of which is
the Commodo third movement. He plays the Blues
– only – from the Ravel Sonata and is then joined by the
Lakatos band for a brief Dinicu – good fun though a touch messy.
For
admirers of Repin who’ve not yet caught up with these recordings,
made in the half decade between 1994 and 1999, I can certainly
recommend this conspectus. They show maturity and sensitivity
in equal measure.
Jonathan Woolf
Roby Lakatos Ensemble
