We can only speculate as to how Franz Clement might have approached Beethoven's Violin Concerto. Equally, whilst recordings of Joseph Joachim playing Brahms do exist, there is nothing to suggest how he might have played his Violin Concerto. These works have long-established performing traditions, and yet paradoxically, Louis Krasner's seminal recording of the Alban Berg Concerto (a Gramophone Award winner, on Testament) has had surprisingly little influence upon subsequent interpretations. It was reassuring to discover, then, that Frank Peter Zimmermann comes as close as anyone to revealing the truth about this work.
Zimmermann and Gelmetti certainly do not linger over the opening in the manner of Gidon Kremer and Sir Colin Davis on Philips (nla), but the aspiring and reverential tenderness of the playing is very effective. The important transition into the new tempo of the allegretto can sound like a self-conscious gear change, and yet it is handled here with tremendous sensitivity, clarifying Berg's valedictory recollections of the young Manon Gropius. Zimmermann is not yet capable of the minute tonal refinements which typify Perlman's DG account of the Concerto, now over ten years old, but unlike many players he is absolutely confident of the total structure of the work. Hence the arrival and development of the Bach chorale Es ist genug has an uncanny atmosphere of inevitability, and profound mystery. Again, note the total sense of unity during the soloist's canonic interaction with the solo viola during the second movement cadenza, played with fearless commitment. It is a pity, however, that the orchestral strings' closing reference to the opening of the work is a little too loud, destroying the final sense of equilibrium to a degree.
Zimmermann senses keenly the neo-classical character of the Stravinsky Concerto, and plays with commanding skill, especially in the final Capriccio, whose roots can be traced back to the Bach Double, BWV1043. I cannot say that I prefer this account to Perlman's, but every detail of the inner scoring of the work is brought into sharp relief by the analytical brilliance of the recording; clearly a big advantage in the Berg, as well. As a filler, Zimmermann offers a quite staggering performance of the Ravel Tzigane, so good, in fact, that it tends to leave a more enduring impression than either of the concertos! Fine as this newcomer is, he certainly does not displace Perlman's uniquely personal affinity with the Berg.'