COMPOSERS: Mozart
LABELS: Sony
ALBUM TITLE: Mozart
WORKS: Symphony No. 39
PERFORMER: Camerata Salzburg/LeonidasKavakos (violin)
CATALOGUE NO: 82876842412
Leonidas Kavakos is more widely
known as a violinist than a
conductor, so it’s curious to find that
the most impressive performance
here is of the late Symphony No. 39,
where he brings out all the autumnal
quality of Mozart’s clarinet-imbued
score. Not that there’s anything
wrong with his playing in the
concertos – indeed, it’s never less
than admirably warm and mellow.
However, his approach to these
youthful works is rather reverential,
and there’s an essential element of
sparkle and sheer enjoyment that’s
almost entirely missing. Kavakos
is at his best in slow movements,
responding to the intimate lyricism
of the Adagio from the early B flat
Concerto, K207 quite beautifully,
and conveying the full sensuousness
of the middle movement of the G
major, K216, with its throbbing
muted inner string parts. But his
account of the concluding rondo
from the G major work is positively
lugubrious in comparison with the
liveliness of, say, Arthur Grumiaux;
and the famous ‘Turkish’ episode
from the finale of the A major
Concerto similarly lacks exuberance.
Among rival versions of these
pieces, Grumiaux’s fine Philips
recording with the LSO and ColinLeonidas Kavakos is more widely
known as a violinist than a
conductor, so it’s curious to find that
the most impressive performance
here is of the late Symphony No. 39,
where he brings out all the autumnal
quality of Mozart’s clarinet-imbued
score. Not that there’s anything
wrong with his playing in the
concertos – indeed, it’s never less
than admirably warm and mellow.
However, his approach to these
youthful works is rather reverential,
and there’s an essential element of
sparkle and sheer enjoyment that’s
almost entirely missing. Kavakos
is at his best in slow movements,
responding to the intimate lyricism
of the Adagio from the early B flat
Concerto, K207 quite beautifully,
and conveying the full sensuousness
of the middle movement of the G
major, K216, with its throbbing
muted inner string parts. But his
account of the concluding rondo
from the G major work is positively
lugubrious in comparison with the
liveliness of, say, Arthur Grumiaux;
and the famous ‘Turkish’ episode
from the finale of the A major
Concerto similarly lacks exuberance.
Among rival versions of these
pieces, Grumiaux’s fine Philips
recording with the LSO and ColinLeonidas Kavakos is more widely
known as a violinist than a
conductor, so it’s curious to find that
the most impressive performance
here is of the late Symphony No. 39,
where he brings out all the autumnal
quality of Mozart’s clarinet-imbued
score. Not that there’s anything
wrong with his playing in the
concertos – indeed, it’s never less
than admirably warm and mellow.
However, his approach to these
youthful works is rather reverential,
and there’s an essential element of
sparkle and sheer enjoyment that’s
almost entirely missing. Kavakos
is at his best in slow movements,
responding to the intimate lyricism
of the Adagio from the early B flat
Concerto, K207 quite beautifully,
and conveying the full sensuousness
of the middle movement of the G
major, K216, with its throbbing
muted inner string parts. But his
account of the concluding rondo
from the G major work is positively
lugubrious in comparison with the
liveliness of, say, Arthur Grumiaux;
and the famous ‘Turkish’ episode
from the finale of the A major
Concerto similarly lacks exuberance.
Among rival versions of these
pieces, Grumiaux’s fine Philips
recording with the LSO and ColinLeonidas Kavakos is more widely
known as a violinist than a
conductor, so it’s curious to find that
the most impressive performance
here is of the late Symphony No. 39,
where he brings out all the autumnal
quality of Mozart’s clarinet-imbued
score. Not that there’s anything
wrong with his playing in the
concertos – indeed, it’s never less
than admirably warm and mellow.
However, his approach to these
youthful works is rather reverential,
and there’s an essential element of
sparkle and sheer enjoyment that’s
almost entirely missing. Kavakos
is at his best in slow movements,
responding to the intimate lyricism
of the Adagio from the early B flat
Concerto, K207 quite beautifully,
and conveying the full sensuousness
of the middle movement of the G
major, K216, with its throbbing
muted inner string parts. But his
account of the concluding rondo
from the G major work is positively
lugubrious in comparison with the
liveliness of, say, Arthur Grumiaux;
and the famous ‘Turkish’ episode
from the finale of the A major
Concerto similarly lacks exuberance.
Among rival versions of these
pieces, Grumiaux’s fine Philips
recording with the LSO and ColinLeonidas Kavakos is more widely
known as a violinist than a
conductor, so it’s curious to find that
the most impressive performance
here is of the late Symphony No. 39,
where he brings out all the autumnal
quality of Mozart’s clarinet-imbued
score. Not that there’s anything
wrong with his playing in the
concertos – indeed, it’s never less
than admirably warm and mellow.
However, his approach to these
youthful works is rather reverential,
and there’s an essential element of
sparkle and sheer enjoyment that’s
almost entirely missing. Kavakos
is at his best in slow movements,
responding to the intimate lyricism
of the Adagio from the early B flat
Concerto, K207 quite beautifully,
and conveying the full sensuousness
of the middle movement of the G
major, K216, with its throbbing
muted inner string parts. But his
account of the concluding rondo
from the G major work is positively
lugubrious in comparison with the
liveliness of, say, Arthur Grumiaux;
and the famous ‘Turkish’ episode
from the finale of the A major
Concerto similarly lacks exuberance.
Among rival versions of these
pieces, Grumiaux’s fine Philips
recording with the LSO and ColinLeonidas Kavakos is more widely
known as a violinist than a
conductor, so it’s curious to find that
the most impressive performance
here is of the late Symphony No. 39,
where he brings out all the autumnal
quality of Mozart’s clarinet-imbued
score. Not that there’s anything
wrong with his playing in the
concertos – indeed, it’s never less
than admirably warm and mellow.
However, his approach to these
youthful works is rather reverential,
and there’s an essential element of
sparkle and sheer enjoyment that’s
almost entirely missing. Kavakos
is at his best in slow movements,
responding to the intimate lyricism
of the Adagio from the early B flat
Concerto, K207 quite beautifully,
and conveying the full sensuousness
of the middle movement of the G
major, K216, with its throbbing
muted inner string parts. But his
account of the concluding rondo
from the G major work is positively
lugubrious in comparison with the
liveliness of, say, Arthur Grumiaux;
and the famous ‘Turkish’ episode
from the finale of the A major
Concerto similarly lacks exuberance.
Among rival versions of these
pieces, Grumiaux’s fine Philips
recording with the LSO and ColinLeonidas Kavakos is more widely
known as a violinist than a
conductor, so it’s curious to find that
the most impressive performance
here is of the late Symphony No. 39,
where he brings out all the autumnal
quality of Mozart’s clarinet-imbued
score. Not that there’s anything
wrong with his playing in the
concertos – indeed, it’s never less
than admirably warm and mellow.
However, his approach to these
youthful works is rather reverential,
and there’s an essential element of
sparkle and sheer enjoyment that’s
almost entirely missing. Kavakos
is at his best in slow movements,
responding to the intimate lyricism
of the Adagio from the early B flat
Concerto, K207 quite beautifully,
and conveying the full sensuousness
of the middle movement of the G
major, K216, with its throbbing
muted inner string parts. But his
account of the concluding rondo
from the G major work is positively
lugubrious in comparison with the
liveliness of, say, Arthur Grumiaux;
and the famous ‘Turkish’ episode
from the finale of the A major
Concerto similarly lacks exuberance.
Among rival versions of these
pieces, Grumiaux’s fine Philips
recording with the LSO and ColinLeonidas Kavakos is more widely
known as a violinist than a
conductor, so it’s curious to find that
the most impressive performance
here is of the late Symphony No. 39,
where he brings out all the autumnal
quality of Mozart’s clarinet-imbued
score. Not that there’s anything
wrong with his playing in the
concertos – indeed, it’s never less
than admirably warm and mellow.
However, his approach to these
youthful works is rather reverential,
and there’s an essential element of
sparkle and sheer enjoyment that’s
almost entirely missing. Kavakos
is at his best in slow movements,
responding to the intimate lyricism
of the Adagio from the early B flat
Concerto, K207 quite beautifully,
and conveying the full sensuousness
of the middle movement of the G
major, K216, with its throbbing
muted inner string parts. But his
account of the concluding rondo
from the G major work is positively
lugubrious in comparison with the
liveliness of, say, Arthur Grumiaux;
and the famous ‘Turkish’ episode
from the finale of the A major
Concerto similarly lacks exuberance.
Among rival versions of these
pieces, Grumiaux’s fine Philips
recording with the LSO and ColinLeonidas Kavakos is more widely
known as a violinist than a
conductor, so it’s curious to find that
the most impressive performance
here is of the late Symphony No. 39,
where he brings out all the autumnal
quality of Mozart’s clarinet-imbued
score. Not that there’s anything
wrong with his playing in the
concertos – indeed, it’s never less
than admirably warm and mellow.
However, his approach to these
youthful works is rather reverential,
and there’s an essential element of
sparkle and sheer enjoyment that’s
almost entirely missing. Kavakos
is at his best in slow movements,
responding to the intimate lyricism
of the Adagio from the early B flat
Concerto, K207 quite beautifully,
and conveying the full sensuousness
of the middle movement of the G
major, K216, with its throbbing
muted inner string parts. But his
account of the concluding rondo
from the G major work is positively
lugubrious in comparison with the
liveliness of, say, Arthur Grumiaux;
and the famous ‘Turkish’ episode
from the finale of the A major
Concerto similarly lacks exuberance.
Among rival versions of these
pieces, Grumiaux’s fine Philips
recording with the LSO and ColinLeonidas Kavakos is more widely
known as a violinist than a
conductor, so it’s curious to find that
the most impressive performance
here is of the late Symphony No. 39,
where he brings out all the autumnal
quality of Mozart’s clarinet-imbued
score. Not that there’s anything
wrong with his playing in the
concertos – indeed, it’s never less
than admirably warm and mellow.
However, his approach to these
youthful works is rather reverential,
and there’s an essential element of
sparkle and sheer enjoyment that’s
almost entirely missing. Kavakos
is at his best in slow movements,
responding to the intimate lyricism
of the Adagio from the early B flat
Concerto, K207 quite beautifully,
and conveying the full sensuousness
of the middle movement of the G
major, K216, with its throbbing
muted inner string parts. But his
account of the concluding rondo
from the G major work is positively
lugubrious in comparison with the
liveliness of, say, Arthur Grumiaux;
and the famous ‘Turkish’ episode
from the finale of the A major
Concerto similarly lacks exuberance.
Among rival versions of these
pieces, Grumiaux’s fine Philips
recording with the LSO and ColinLeonidas Kavakos is more widely
known as a violinist than a
conductor, so it’s curious to find that
the most impressive performance
here is of the late Symphony No. 39,
where he brings out all the autumnal
quality of Mozart’s clarinet-imbued
score. Not that there’s anything
wrong with his playing in the
concertos – indeed, it’s never less
than admirably warm and mellow.
However, his approach to these
youthful works is rather reverential,
and there’s an essential element of
sparkle and sheer enjoyment that’s
almost entirely missing. Kavakos
is at his best in slow movements,
responding to the intimate lyricism
of the Adagio from the early B flat
Concerto, K207 quite beautifully,
and conveying the full sensuousness
of the middle movement of the G
major, K216, with its throbbing
muted inner string parts. But his
account of the concluding rondo
from the G major work is positively
lugubrious in comparison with the
liveliness of, say, Arthur Grumiaux;
and the famous ‘Turkish’ episode
from the finale of the A major
Concerto similarly lacks exuberance.
Among rival versions of these
pieces, Grumiaux’s fine Philips
recording with the LSO and ColinLeonidas Kavakos is more widely
known as a violinist than a
conductor, so it’s curious to find that
the most impressive performance
here is of the late Symphony No. 39,
where he brings out all the autumnal
quality of Mozart’s clarinet-imbued
score. Not that there’s anything
wrong with his playing in the
concertos – indeed, it’s never less
than admirably warm and mellow.
However, his approach to these
youthful works is rather reverential,
and there’s an essential element of
sparkle and sheer enjoyment that’s
almost entirely missing. Kavakos
is at his best in slow movements,
responding to the intimate lyricism
of the Adagio from the early B flat
Concerto, K207 quite beautifully,
and conveying the full sensuousness
of the middle movement of the G
major, K216, with its throbbing
muted inner string parts. But his
account of the concluding rondo
from the G major work is positively
lugubrious in comparison with the
liveliness of, say, Arthur Grumiaux;
and the famous ‘Turkish’ episode
from the finale of the A major
Concerto similarly lacks exuberance.
Among rival versions of these
pieces, Grumiaux’s fine Philips
recording with the LSO and ColinLeonidas Kavakos is more widely
known as a violinist than a
conductor, so it’s curious to find that
the most impressive performance
here is of the late Symphony No. 39,
where he brings out all the autumnal
quality of Mozart’s clarinet-imbued
score. Not that there’s anything
wrong with his playing in the
concertos – indeed, it’s never less
than admirably warm and mellow.
However, his approach to these
youthful works is rather reverential,
and there’s an essential element of
sparkle and sheer enjoyment that’s
almost entirely missing. Kavakos
is at his best in slow movements,
responding to the intimate lyricism
of the Adagio from the early B flat
Concerto, K207 quite beautifully,
and conveying the full sensuousness
of the middle movement of the G
major, K216, with its throbbing
muted inner string parts. But his
account of the concluding rondo
from the G major work is positively
lugubrious in comparison with the
liveliness of, say, Arthur Grumiaux;
and the famous ‘Turkish’ episode
from the finale of the A major
Concerto similarly lacks exuberance.
Among rival versions of these
pieces, Grumiaux’s fine Philips
recording with the LSO and ColinLeonidas Kavakos is more widely
known as a violinist than a
conductor, so it’s curious to find that
the most impressive performance
here is of the late Symphony No. 39,
where he brings out all the autumnal
quality of Mozart’s clarinet-imbued
score. Not that there’s anything
wrong with his playing in the
concertos – indeed, it’s never less
than admirably warm and mellow.
However, his approach to these
youthful works is rather reverential,
and there’s an essential element of
sparkle and sheer enjoyment that’s
almost entirely missing. Kavakos
is at his best in slow movements,
responding to the intimate lyricism
of the Adagio from the early B flat
Concerto, K207 quite beautifully,
and conveying the full sensuousness
of the middle movement of the G
major, K216, with its throbbing
muted inner string parts. But his
account of the concluding rondo
from the G major work is positively
lugubrious in comparison with the
liveliness of, say, Arthur Grumiaux;
and the famous ‘Turkish’ episode
from the finale of the A major
Concerto similarly lacks exuberance.
Among rival versions of these
pieces, Grumiaux’s fine Philips
recording with the LSO and ColinDavis is a bargain-price set that’s
hard to resist, particularly since it
contains not only the substitute slow
movement Mozart provided for the
A major Concerto and an attractive
self-standing Rondo K373, but
also the great Sinfonia concertante
for violin and viola. However, the
sensitive and stylish performances
by the Canadian player James
Ehnes released earlier this year also
provide unalloyed pleasure in a more
chamber-like atmosphere.
Misha Donat