Not for nothing was Bottesini described as the Paganini of the double-bass. ''Under his bow,'' wrote a contemporary, ''the double-bass sighed, cooed, sang, quivered'', and so it does in the hands of Thomas Martin—himself a larger-than-life character, to match his instrument. He and ASV have twice before given us surveys of Giovanni Bottesini's romantic adventures for his seemingly intractable instrument (6/87 and 3/88), but this new collection is easily the most attractive of the three discs. In fact, it is a good place to start if hitherto you have considered the double-bass merely a support, at once sonorous and gruff, at the bottom of the orchestra. Much of this music exploits the upper tessitura, which is hardly ever heard in the instrument's orchestral role, and newcomers will be surprised at the reticent delicacy of the timbre in the hands of a master soloist.
Martin is wholly persuasive and his line in the yearning melodic Andante of the Concertino in C minor floats along with unexpected graceful fragility. The soloist adds to the projection by tuning his instrument a minor third above the usual orchestral tuning. His articulation in the good-natured finale is winning and free of lubricity, while the violins frolic above, often in a high register to give further contrast.
The Passione amorose for two double-basses opens appropriately with the soloists courting each other intimately, and the Andante brings a shared melody which swoons away with never a blush; again, the finale is very jolly. The Elegie confirms that Bottesini is never short of a modestly good tune even if it is of a conventional nature, and the soloist sings along mellifluously: the effect is quite touching. The accompaniments are consistently well crafted.
In the Duo concertant on Bellini's I puritani the use of the cello and bass partnership brings ingeniously interwoven part-writing demanding great but seldom ostentatious bravura. The orchestral items used to frame the concertante pieces are all melodiously winning: the Prelude to Ero e Leandro has a Neapolitan flavour, with some engaging writing for the solo oboe; the Sinfonia for Il diavolo della notte opens with warm lyricism, then introduces an infectious 'galloping' idea that reminds one a little of Bizet as well as having the Rossinian vivacity that also ensures a welcome for the spirited Ali Baba Overture.
These pieces are clearly relished for their novelty by the LSO players and Matthew Gibson makes the most of them as a foil for the works for double-bass. These he accompanies skilfully (and they are, incidentally, most successfully balanced by the recording engineer). An unusual and rewarding collection.'