After emigrating to the USA as a child, the Viennese-born Anton Kuerti studied with teachers including Rudolf Serkin. So it is not surprising that his approach to the two Mendelssohn concertos is closer to that of his erstwhile mentor than to Peter Katin's (Decca). Like Serkin on CBS, he favours extremely fast tempos for the brilliant flanking movements of both works, giving them an impetuous excitement that Katin is prepared to forgo in the interests of a cooler delicacy and precision. Never are Kuerti's fingers nimbler than in the glistening finale of the G minor Concerto. Now and again elsewhere, and notably in the Molto allegro con fuoco of this work, there is passing loss of finesse in the heat of excitement, and he still lacks his teacher's marvellously taut buoyancy of rhythm. Incidentally I'm sure Serkin himself would not have sanctioned that sudden quickening of pace towards the end of the second subject in Kuerti's opening movement (track 1, at 2'30''). Despite just an occasional suspicion of cossetted timing, both slow movements reveal him at his most sensitive in readings best described as standing midway between the profound intensity of Serkin and the chaster purity of Katin. I have heard the LPO play more lovingly than it does here under Paul Freeman—at times it seems too backward when it, rather than the pianist, is the melody-maker.
Though balance is far more satisfactory in the Capriccio brillant (excellently despatched in all three versions), it is the Columbia Symphony under Ormandy that I feel does fullest justice to Mendelssohn's scoring throughout and which also enjoys the richest and most natural-sounding reproduction. So at mid-price the Serkin disc has to remain my first recommendation—that is if you want the Capriccio brillant thrown in for good measure. But for the G minor and D minor Concertos on their own I can of course never forget Perahia and Schiff (CBS and Decca respectively), for me in that order, even though the latter's disc is the better recorded.'