A product of the Curtis Institute and still in her early twenties‚ Leila Josefowicz is no stranger to the TV chat show and the marketing meeting‚ but she is very much her own woman. The present package is scarcely unique in including a few words from the soloist‚ in this case a thoughtful paragraph which takes off from Prokofiev’s tendency to step on the throat of his own song. It is rarer to find the music­making living up to the phrase­making. Josefowicz begins the First Violin Concerto in idiosyncratic fashion‚ fining down her vibrato or even eliminating it altogether‚ so that Prokofiev’s melody steals in in deliberately tentative‚ provisional fashion. Not since Kyung­Wha Chung’s ravishing (and mildly illicit) pianissimo have I heard such an individualistic opening. It is a shame that the soloist is miked close enough for her sniffing to register‚ but for once there is no sense of the grand virtuoso going through the motions. The jerky second subject is nothing if not characterful‚ with slashing articulation and exaggerated accents to offset the generally slow pacing. As the movement ends‚ Josefowicz retreats into fairy­tale inaudibility. The scherzo demonstrates her staggering technical command as well as her iron­and­steel approach to music in which others find a higher norm of charm. More space around the solo image and a less distanced‚ puddingy contribution from the orchestra might have softened this impression‚ but I suspect that Josefowicz has obtained precisely the effect she wanted (whether brilliant or brutalÊ–Êthe choice is yours). While the finale again feels a little slow‚ its tough‚ unsentimental lyricism is well served. In the later‚ darker concerto‚ the dying fall of the opening idea parades another unusual feature of Josefowicz’s playing‚ her frequent resort to olde worlde portamento in a new‚ sometimes uglifying context. This is to be another performance that points up contrasts with sudden bursts of speed rather than incorporating Prokofiev’s disparate ideas into a seamless flow. Josefowicz gives herself plenty of room in the lovely slow movement‚ while her finale is raw‚ intense and defiant with some foot­stomping audible in places. The Tchaikovsky Serenade‚ placed between the Prokofiev concertos‚ suits her less well. Just past the four­minute mark‚ she attacks her instrument so aggressively that pitch goes awry‚ and it doesn’t help that the orchestral part is no more than a distant mush. Those wind solos are altogether clearer in the more idiomatic account from Vengerov and Rostropovich. That said‚ no one is going to buy this fascinating disc for its filler‚ so what about the competition? Vengerov’s own Prokofievs are only available separately‚ paired off with Shostakovich’s contributions to the genre (Teldec‚ 2/95 and A/97). Among current digital challengers‚ Gil Shaham’s all­Prokofiev programme makes better senseÊ–Êhe gives us also the composer’s Solo Violin Sonata originally intended to be performed in unison by student playersÊ–Êbut then his interpretations are comparatively bland‚ or at least more conventionally conceived. Whether Leila Josefowicz actually gets closer to the composer’s creative personality by eschewing the loftier eloquence and tonal consistency associated with this repertoire since the days of David Oistrakh is a moot point. Some will no doubt stigmatise her as a self­regarding violinistic diva. And yet‚ whatever she does‚ the fire and conviction are never in doubt.