If anyone doubts that these three sonatas represent Brahms at his most blissfully lyrical, then this is an essential set to hear. The trouble-free happiness of these mellow inspirations, all written after the main body of Brahms's orchestral music had been completed, comes over richly and seductively in these fine performances. It is almost ten years since Perlman and Ashkenazy completed their splendid series of Beethoven Violin Sonata recordings for Decca, and many of the same keenly perceptive qualities can be found here in performances which in their sureness and flawless confidence carry you along cocooned in rich sound. The contrast with the previous HMV set of the Brahms is striking. Reviewing that issue, JOC complained of the insufficiently lyrical playing of the pianist, Alexis Weissenberg, and I agree. There can be no complaint against Ashkenazy on that score, for here you have a meeting of equals, even if—partly a question of recording balance—it strikes me that Perlman establishes himself as the dominant partner, which is more apt in these works than in the Beethoven.
There is a clear difference too in the way that Perlman consistently produces rich, full-bodied tone, almost entirely free from the rather nervy vibrato that Mutter often favours in adding a layer of tension or expressiveness to Brahmsian melodies. Zukerman (DG) also varies his tone in a similar way, but he and Barenboim come far closer to Perlman and Ashkenazy, not only in their well-matched artistry but in their similar preference for broad speeds. An excellent illustration of the way that Perlman evokes a happy, trouble-free mood comes in the melody which opens the second movement Adagio of Op. 108, with Perlman broad and warm, Mutter creating a degree of tension with her vibrato and Zukerman playing with lighter shading at (for once) a more flowing speed.
The obverse of this is that with such consistent richness and warmth, the three sonatas come to sound more alike than they usually do, or maybe should, a point which comes out the more from playing them in sequence. It is true that Perlman does quite often play softly, but as so often in his latterday recordings, he is placed for my taste too close to the microphone, and the actual dynamic level remains rather high, however gently he is playing. This is not to say that with sharp imagination and with superbly clean articulation from the pianist, these performances lack range of expression, and I think especially of the rhythmic pointing, which gives a Hungarian or a Slavonic tang to such passages as the first contrasting episode in the 'raindrop' finale of No. 1 or the contrasting Vivace passages in the second movement of No. 2, where the last pizzicato reprise is made totally delectable.
The fill-up is less generous than with Mutter (the Franck Sonata) but more apt, the Sonata movement Scherzo which the young Brahms contributed to the F-A-E Sonata along with Schumann and Dietrich (the only fill-up on the mid-price Zukerman set) plus four Hungarian Dances as arranged by Joachim. There expanding their range, both artists let their hair down, and enjoy themselves enormously, playing with sparkle and charm and 'naughty' pointing of dotted rhythms in the delightful A major, No. 7. The digital recording is bright, with a good sense of atmosphere to give bite to the piano tone without diminishing the warmth of Perlman's violin.'