If you were looking for an example of misplaced virtuosity you could hardly do better than this. Individually Argerich and Kremer are in possession of a technical armoury which must be the envy of many of their colleagues. Yet their Prokofiev often sounds like a demonstration of instrumental possibilities rather than a genuinely felt artistic experience.
When playing straight, they can be wonderfully exhilarating—the self-important swagger of the Second Sonata finale is one example of an entirely appropriate characterization. Otherwise the prevailing impression is of blatancy and selfconscious striving for effect. From the very beginning of the F minor Sonata gestures tend to separate out rather than flow into a larger discourse; the difference between forte and fortissimo is effaced; passages of inexorable rhythmic drive are romanticized; slow movements simper and moments of fantasy are trivialized. I could go into detail. Better merely to reiterate the merits of Mintz and Bronfman on DG, and of David Oistrakh and Frida Bauer on Le Chant du Monde. Kremer should be heard by violinists interested in violin-playing; anyone interested primarily in the music should steer well clear.'