The Beethoven Violin Concerto has been a lucky work on CD, and especially so in the bargain area—one thinks of the inspirational Schneiderhan account on DG (my own particular favourite), as well as Grumiaux's ravishing late-1960s recording with Galliera on Philips (which I know EG greatly admires). But, even against this considerable competition, Herman Krebbers's performance remains strongly recommendable. The balance of the solo violin is noticeably forward, an effect emphasized by the digital remastering, but Haitink's splendidly spacious accompaniment is well caught against the expansive Amsterdam ambience. The partnership of conductor and soloist (one-time leader of the Concertgebouw Orchestra) is a considerable one, and the radiant simplicity of the Larghetto is set in clear contrast with the strength of the opening movement and the dancing finale. Some might feel that there is an element of deliberation from the soloist in certain parts of the first movement, but his concern for detail brings its own rewards and the playing is full of spirit.
The other competing CDs are also in the medium or budget price range and each is well worth its modest cost. Of these three, my overall first choice would go to Denes Kovacs with the Hungarian State Orchestra under Janos Ferencsik. Here the partnership between soloist and conductor is comparable with that on the Krebbers/Haitink disc, and these artists have the advantage of a first-class analogue recording with plenty of warmth, a splendid ambience and natural balance. Kovacs's timbre is full and round, its beauty very apparent in the eloquently expressive slow movement and the songful lyricism of the first. It is a most satisfying account overall. Yet when one turns to the excellent Miklos Szenthelyi on LaserLight, one senses even greater intensity of feeling in the Larghetto. It is very beautifully played indeed, and in its classical simplicity it reminds me of both Grumiaux and Schneiderhan. The finale, too, has an irresistibly gay and sparkling dance feeling that recalls Krebbers. In the first movement, however, the digital recording brings a less homogenous body to the orchestral sound than on the Hungaroton analogue CD, and the soloist's timbre is made to seem more resiny, less covered than with Kovacs: the ambience here is less telling in the overall sound-picture.
Both Szenthelyi and Kovacs bring plenty of temperament to the two Romances, which on the LaserLight disc come after the main work, to be followed by an elegant account of the Minuet in G as a closing lollipop. On the Hungaroton disc the Concerto is sandwiched between the two Romances, a strange idea; but one can, of course, reprogramme the order, or begin at the second track.
The soloist on the Naxos issue, Takako Nishizaki makes a smaller sound than any of her competitors, but her silvery timbre and immaculate style are attractive and her lyrical phrasing very appealing, especially in the relaxed sections of the development of the first movement, while her reprise of the main theme after the Kreisler cadenza is a moment of real magic. Yet overall her performing personality does not project with a great deal of individuality; her slow movement is classically pure but not especially intense, and she is disappointing in the two Romances which are lacking in flair. The digital recording is clear and truthful, well balanced, catching the ambience of the Bratislava Concert Hall quite convincingly. However, I still prefer the analogue sound of the Hungaroton disc.'