Of the many modern players who increasingly are performing the smaller-scale eighteenth-century concertos, remarkably few seem able to scale down their performances down from the more familiar nineteenth- and twentieth-century proportions; in this sense period performances often seem preferable. Rostropovich, however, does have the true measure of these works and plays to an appropriate scale with a beauty of tone unimaginable from a period instrument. His eloquence has a style of its own, beyond the usual constraints of period and convention.
He is sympathetically accompanied here by the Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra, who have for many years had the benefit of the formidable period conducting skills of Christopher Hogwood, now their Principal Guest Conductor. His influence is particularly apparent in their articulation. However, since 1988 the orchestra has been conducted by Rostropovich's former assistant with the National Symphony Orchestra, Hugh Wolff (who also prepared the editions of the Tartini and the C. P. E. Bach). Under Wolff's baton, the orchestra plays diplomatically throughout, although I found the harpsichord rather too prominent in the slow movement and wonder why it was deemed necessary to augment the continuo with a double-bass. The tempos are generally well chosen—never too fast but occasionally, as in the Grave of the Tartini concerto, a little on the slow side.
The Vivaldi and C. P. E. Bach concertos are relatively well known and have been ably recorded by period players such as Christophe Coin and Anner Bylsma as well as the musically 'great and good', who until recently included Tortelier; Rostropovich himself has already recorded Tartini's A major Concerto. Here he plays in a light but never superficial way, gently shaping the motivic ideas and creating delicate echoes. The lyrical slow movements are imbued with a wistfulness and intimacy reflecting a well-known side of his musical personality; the brooding rhetorical quality of the C. P. E. Bach Adagio is especially compelling.'