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Aaron
Rosand's new CD, the Beethoven and Brahms Violin Concertos, has met with resounding
critical acclaim. Listen for yourself by clicking on the "real" icon
above, read the reviews below, or click here
for a complete track listing.
"It belonged to Aaron Rosand, a name that may tax the memory of the most assiduous concert-goers. Once a Carnegie Hall perennial and now a distinguished teacher at the Curtis Institute, Rosand at 72 plays the cornerstone concerto with more eloquence than nine out of 10 soloists you will hear all year. . .
Our concert schedules are top-heavy with stars and nymphets, mostly under-age and semi-clad. There is a 12-year-old German child, Maria-Elisabeth Lott, touring the provinces this winter with a warm testimonial from the late Lord Menuhin, who was profligate in the writing of warm testimonials. She will go far, maybe past 15.
On a clear night and with the right conductor, a young artist can make you gasp. She may even make the earth move. But what kids cannot invoke is the linear tradition and lifetime of concentrated thought that are purveyed by the Haendels and Rosands. In former times, concert halls purveyed a mix of seasoned soloists and spicy youth.
"These days, ageism prevails and sex sells, or so they say. There is a tendency
among orchestral managers to imagine that a strapless gown and yoof appeal can
make all the difference between a quarter-empty and half-empty hall. This is
arrant nonsense. With the exception of Kennedy in London, Vengerov in New York
and Mutter in Munich, there is not a violinist alive whose name swells major
box offices by more than 300 seats, or one-tenth of capacity. Yet orchestras
persist in preferring shooting stars to the wisdom of ages. If little Maria-Elisabeth
is going to be any good, she'll be twice as good in 10 years time, and most
of us are content to wait. But if we don't hear Haendel and Rosand, they will
soon be gone, and you will never hear their like again. Most concerts are forgotten
before the last note fades. Only the legendary ones stick in the mind, and legends
are usually old." --Norman Lebrecht, Daily Telegraph, July
21 1999
...Fanfare Magazine Says: "Majors are glad, minors are sad. Beethoven's odd numbered symphonies are hard-charging behemoths; his even numbered ones are islands of calm in the midst of the storm. It's funny how influential platitudes can be. While slowing down to the point of immobility, Beethoven's odd-numbered symphonies, stripped of everything but their raw power, have become smoking, soot-covered steam locomotives full of their own importance. Beethoven's humor has, not so coincidentally, degenerated into either an opaque Olympian jest or a coarse guffaw; and the "apotheosis of the dance," into a grotesque ballet for lumbering titans. Color has been relegated to the Pastoral and wit to the Eighth, which not quite fitting into the intellectual program, can therefore be denigrated at will. Septuagenarian Aaron Rosand has resisted the tendency to read Beethoven's Violin Concerto in the currently accepted way; and his recording of that work for Vox serves as a depository of musical wisdom accumulated during a lifetime of study and performance. For starters, but just for starters, the first movement sprints more briskly than it has since Heifetz recorded it with Toscanini. The tempo of that earlier performance, though, remains in the foreground of the listener's attention, spinning continuously its web of wonder to be sure--but not without an underlying uneasiness. Rosand and Inouye see eye to eye, and their agreed-upon tempo also pushes MM 120. But it only serves as a canvas on which they create the most colorful and richly detailed characterization of the work in my experience. Yet the concerto, waxing as serenely poetic as the Sixth Symphony, retains all the Fifth's power. Rosand has cleaned the painting organically, without resorting to musicological gimmicks or period timbres. The slow movement at its new tempo sounds more rather than less profound, breaking the unfortunate connection between length and depth. And the finale sparkles, as seldom before, with intelligence and wit. Of course, just cranking up the metronome didn't work this magic all by itself. Rosand has lost nothing tonally or technically since his earliest recordings. His double stops are sharp and clean--and perfectly in tune; his detache snaps crisply (with its reliance on Viotti's repertoire of bowings, the concerto is particularly rich in detache); and his cantelena never falters; his tone exhibits its characteristic lush warmth and virile edge throughout. But this "symphony with violin" requires a true partnership, and Inouye elicits monumentally eloquent complementary rhetorical pronouncements from the Monte Carlo Philharmonic, the members of which seem clearly caught up in what they must have realized was a historic occasion. And Rosand brings off Heifetz's cadenzas with such panache that you hear him as Rosand, not just as an epigone of their composer.
"Rosand and Inouye work similar magic in Brahms's concerto. Although the violinist, with characteristic tough-mindedness, tames the sometimes overpowering orchestration, he doesn't cow Inouye, who creates the sonic equivalent of Gibraltar. Anyone who remembers Szigeti's or Neveau's spine in this work should listen to Rosand: he's practically an exoskeleton--without, of course, the implied stiffness, as his reserves of tenderness in the slow movement amply demonstrate. The Concerto demands a violinistic technique quite different in kind from that of Beethoven's time, and the passages that challenge the soloist aren't always entirely violinistic (some regret that Brahms relied so heavily on Joachim; and others--perhaps the majority of violinists--wish he had paid more attention to him). But Rosand's ample and versatile technique easily satisfies any and all demands placed on it. Vox's recorded sound has great depth and presence, although purists (I'm not one of them) might quibble that the violinist appears too far forward.
"In summary, this is one of the few recordings in which absolutely everything works in triumphant harmony. The Brahms Concerto (strangely, of the two performances, the one that haunts the memory) ranks among the very best; the Beethoven, honesty compels me to affirm, is the very best: a marvelous conception realized by a virtuosic soloist at the top of his form and an orchestra and conductor inspired by the greatness of the work and its interpreter. I'm well aware that, having read the last sentence, some readers are reaching for pen and paper to write an indignant defense of one favorite (Heifetz, Huberman, Szigeti, Kreisler, and Menuhin come to mind) or another. But Rosand's Beethoven has little in common with any of those, and in that difference lies its strength. It's one for the ages." --Robert Maxham, Fanfare Magazine, 1999.
...American Record Guide Says: "No point going through
Schwann to add up how many Beethoven-and-Brahms violin concerto couplings
there are or have been. A calculator probably would be needed. But this one is
worth discussion because it is unusual musically and also the work of a master
violinist. Unusual because this is a combination of virtuoso playing placed in
a sort of chamber-music setting, even if a big (and very good) orchestra is used.
In this performance the soloist is much more concerned about working with the
orchestra in an intimate manner than with showing off or going through the conventional
gestures. Years back, the Brahms was scornfully described as a symphony for violin
and orchestra (so were the piano concertos) rather than a violin concerto. Rosand
and Inouye, his alert partner, take the intimate approach. No microphones are
stuffed into the f-holes of the solo instrument to spotlight the virtuoso. Instead,
the solo violin is another member of a music-making ensemble. Rosand is a modest,
sincere musician as well as a superb instrumentalist.
"Now around the age of 72 or so, Rosand is one of the last representatives of the Leopold Auer school. From Auer's studio came Zimbalist, Heifetz, Milstein, and other great violinists. Rosand never studied with Auer, but his teacher, Efrem Zimbalist at Curtis, had; and Zimbalist passed to him the noble Auer tradition of tone production, technique, and musicianship. Rosand is not as extroverted as the last two great Auer students before the public, Heifetz and Milstein. But Rosand is as good as those two were. His tone and technique are on a par, but he has a more introverted style. Of these two performances,, the Brahms has greater thrust, but in both Rosand is more interested in the musical message than in the instrument. Listen to the slow movement of the Brahms, where he is a chamber-music partner to the flutes and oboes, and then to the strings. Some may call this pair of performances small-scaled. But I call them sensitive, elegant, supple, lyric, poetic, and yet with a tensile strength that never misses the grandeur of the scores.
"Rosand's extraordinary technique helps, even if it is a technique that never draws attention to itself (except, naturally, in the cadenzas). He uses a perfectly-controlled, somewhat fast and narrow vibrato that never veers into the upper or lower partials. There are no technical problems except for a few slightly off-pitch high notes on the E string in the Beethoven. He plays the Heifetz cadenza in I of the Beethoven and the Joachim in II and III. In the Brahms it is the Joachim, of course.
"His tempos are those of the Auer school--about 38 minutes each. Rosand is using Beethoven's metronome marks. There has been very little change in the tempos of the Beethoven and Brahms in the 50 years that I have been timing concert performances. Heifetz, Milstein, Oistrakh, Stern, and just about all of the old-timers average out between 38 and 39 minutes. Current performances often tend to run slower. Rosand has had a good career but never has attracted the attention he deserves. If he plays in your neighborhood, drop everything and go. And there is this recording." --Harold Schonberg, American Record Guide, March/April 1999
"That famed purity of tone and sparkling interpretative personality prove ideal in the Beethoven Concerto, played here with a wide-eyed freshness remarkable from a man who must have played the work hundreds of times. The first movement is taken somewhat faster than usual, in line with Beethoven's later metronome marking for the piano transcription, and it also provides a comparatively rare opportunity to hear the Heifetz cadenza. The Larghetto is also played at a gently flowing pace, while the Rondo finale has a real spring in its tail.
"It is a strange fact that certain composers' appearances have inspired whole schools of interpretation - in Brahms's case this has led to a certain portliness. Yet within the rounded portraits of the middle-aged Brahms there was a lithe and athletic man struggling to get out, and it is this dualism that plays such a part in Rosand's invigorating interpretation. Here the odd technical fallibility makes itself occasionally felt (and not just from the soloist!), yet what emerges most strongly is the sheer vitality and style that have always been hallmarks of Rosand's playing. A timely reminder of a true aristocrat of the violin." --Julian Haylock, Strad Magazine, March 1999
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