Mischa Maisky, unlike the other cellists who offer the two best-known Haydn cello concertos in coupling, provides a substantial bonus with a third concerto. This proves to be the early G major Violin Concerto, which as H. C. Robbins Landon points out in his note, is technically far less demanding than Haydn's other works in the genre. That means that its transposition down an octave into the cello register presents few problems. Though Robbins Landon tactfully skirts away from the point whether a cellist in the eighteenth century might ever have tackled it, there is no doubt that with the lower instrument the relative absence of brilliance is less apparent. It makes a welcome addition to the disc. The outer movements in their liveliness are attractive enough if not very memorable, but the stately, almost Handelian, slow movement with its soaring melody set over pulsing string chords, is most beautiful in a style which for Haydn was becoming archaic.
There, even more than elsewhere, you miss the inclusion of a harpsichord continuo. Maisky, directing the talented young players of the Chamber Orchestra of Europe from the solo instrument, draws warm, refined playing from them in all three concertos, but his own relative squareness does put a limitation on the expressive range. For comparison I went to Salvatore Accardo's stylish reading of the Violin Concerto in his collected Philips box (6769 059, 10/81—nla), where at more spacious speeds he finds much more light and shade, more delicate pointing of phrasing and rhythm, more lightening of texture. There is a case for preferring Maisky's brisker speeds, but the relative thickness remains in all three concertos, partly a question of recording quality, warm and sympathetic set in the Konzerthaus in Vienna but lacking a little in transparency.
In the two well-known concertos Maisky gives strong, warm readings, formidable technically with hardly a whisker out of place. Every problem is masterfully solved, and though the speeds for the Adagios are on the slow side, there is no unwanted sentimentality. What is lacking in relation to, say, Yo-Yo Ma on the one hand in traditional readings (CBS), or Christophe Coin on the other in his period performance with the Academy of Ancient Music (L'Oiseau-Lyre) is the touch of individuality which sticks in the mind, whether for phrasing, dynamic shading or whatever. On that level Maisky is a degree too predictable, too perfect if you like. His are still enjoyable readings of two masterly works, and anyone who fancies having the makeweight concerto as well (a substantial bonus) need not hold back.'