This music is all obtainable in thoroughly 'authentic' performances in the context of Rudolf Kempe's celebrated EMI set. But many will find Ashkenazy and his team more conveniently plugging the gaps; and in modern digital sound too. The conductor, not always the most persuasive of Straussians, is seldom content with simply going through the motions. Helped by his German orchestra, and a sympathetic production team, he makes of the early Violin Concerto something less grey than usual. To my ears, Jane Glover provides a rather anonymous backdrop for the excitable, old-time histrionics of her soloist, Xue-Wei. Boris Belkin, for Ashkenazy, is less of a dazzler, more of a musician, but, like his rival, is surprisingly prone to intonation problems of the kind that worry some listeners not at all. If I find neither as satisfying as the more workmanlike Hoelscher for Kempe, I could certainly live with Belkin. Hoelscher too has his technical insecurities.
In the Oboe Concerto, honours are more evenly divided: Kempe's soloist is something of an acquired taste tonally, while his conception lacks some of the autumnal intimacy we have come to expect. My only criticism of Ashkenazy would be that his orchestra sounds a little too reticent, weakening the effect of Strauss's careful dialogues between soloist and woodwind principals. Even so, the strands are clearer than is often the case, and there is none of the heavyweight boom that disfigured Robin Canter's recent account. Gordon Hunt deserves high praise. He is sometimes too closely observed—you can hear the click of his fingers on the keys—but he does contribute a wonderfully full tone and much exquisitely shaded phrasing. At this pace, the slow movement is no longer really an Andante—late Strauss is nothing if not self-indulgent—while the finale goes exceptionally well.
It is partly the composer's fault that the Duett-Concertino proves less engaging. The piece starts promisingly enough in his best Capriccio vein. Later on, it is difficult to quell the doubts as he lapses into garrulous, inconsequential mode. According to Norman Del Mar, the structural lacunae are ''unique features proving that to the end Strauss never lost the sense of enjoyment in setting himself new problems'', but only Kempe's glorious fluency can convince me that Del Mar isn't just making excuses. Ashkenazy the clarinettist is a most sensitive artist; his bassoonist colleague sounds more awkward, too awkward perhaps for the fairy-tale story of princess and dancing bear which Strauss claimed sparked his inspiration. Some of the string playing also sounds a little tired by the end. This is not one of Strauss's more compelling works but it brings down the curtain aptly enough on an attractive disc.
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