After a warmly praised CBS debut recording of the Mendelssohn concerto with the New York Philharmonic way back in 1969 (T2768, 11/69), Zukerman has now returned to the attack in the dual role of soloist-conductor with a chamber orchestra. His aim, so we're told, is to achieve clarity of texture while ''drawing out the simplicity and the beauty of the melodies rather than the semi-Romantic feeling and the virtuoso show a la Paganini''. The accompanying note by his producer Wilhelm Hellweg emphasizes the ''surprisingly fast'' pace for the Andante, likewise the ''surprisingly slow'' pace for the finale, chosen to help achieve these aims, though personally I find neither tempo in the least abnormal; in fact they are practically the same as from Szigeti and Beecham in an old mono HMV Treasury performance (HLM7016, 9/72—nla) I dug out of my library for random comparison. In the opening movement, however, I did raise an eyebrow at sudden spurts of tempo, not least immediately after the second subject relaxation in both the exposition and recapitulation. Throughout the work Zukerman's tone is as liquid as his technique is impeccable. The St Paul's players, in their turn, are clean and punctual. But in this music I confess to preferring the richer sonority of a full symphony orchestra, and a conductor to elicit more characterful and personal orchestral phrasing and shading. Refreshing, yes, in its own way, yet somehow this well-recorded performance failed to reach my heart.
As for the Octet, Mendelssohn himself tempted providence when stipulating that the work ''must be played by all instruments in symphonic orchestra style. Pianos and fortes must be strictly observed and more strongly emphasized than is usual in pieces of this character''. Zukerman's response is less extreme than that of Zubin Mehta, who in 1980 recorded a version for Decca (SXDL7506, 9/80) using the full strings of the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra. But with the St Paul's Chamber Orchestra at his disposal, Zukerman, leading, opts for considerably more than seven collaborators in an arrangement of his own that sometimes (as in the slow movement) honours Mendelssohn's one-man-per-part, but at other times calls for amplification. It is all well played and well recorded, and sounds nearer the truth than the Mehta version. But why not the whole truth? Even as a teenager Mendelssohn knew exactly what he wanted.'