The first movement of Brahm's B flat Piano Concerto is marked Allegro non troppo, but it is not untraditional to begin this work relatively slowly and then press onwards to establish full momentum at the first orchestral tutti (which is what Ashkenazy and Haitink on Decca do quite convincingly). Bernstein's opening tempo is a leisurely Andante and the pace almost slows to Adagio before a burst of energy from the pianist signals that the performance is going to spring to life with the orchestral re-statement of the main theme. Throughout the movement there is this constant flexing between a rather indulgent lyricism and a passionate forward thrust. When for brief periods the music is allowed to surge forward strongly, one realizes that Bernstein and Zimerman have established a masterly understanding of the work, and their artistic symbiosis is impressive. If only they had not been so determined to stamp their interpretative mark on the proceedings this would have been a magnificent performance. As it is there are moments of genuine grandeur, and poetry too, as when the horns steal in seductively to announce the first movement's recapitulation. In the second movement Bernstein again pulls back at the tranquille e dolce and Zimerman is at one with him in his considered response. There is undoubtedly a self-conscious element here, while at the movement's closing section Bernstein treats us to an old-fashioned accelerando.
The andante is poetically intense, with the cello solo played con amore and a measured tempo justified by the rapt concentration. Towards the end where Brahms's marking is piu adagio, the piu is emphasized, but the sustained pianissimo has such strength of feeling that the listener surely must become involved. The finale's balance between bravura and lyricism is managed with considerable flair, even though the music nearly halts at one point at Brahms's grazioso feeling is often overwhelmed. The recording is wide-ranging and quite spacious, the piano image bold and very 'present' in the CD format. There is a hint of overbrightness on the upper strings but there is weight too, and the projection of the recording is certainly arresting. The LP is slightly less sharp in definition, the chrome cassette a wee bit smoother still, but both are vivid. For all its waywardness there is a magnetism about this performance which inclines me to prefer it to the alternative from Ashkenazy and Haitink, which is far less mannered, but also lacks something in drive.
The LP boxed set adds the Zimerman/Bernstein version of Concerto No. 1, also very controversial. Richard Osborne was almost aghast in his description of ''a performance which is overflowing with sensibility and care'' but which ''in the last resort... is so narcissistic, so intolerably self-regarding''. I responded to it more warmly—tempos are very spacious indeed and there are agogic distortions, but, again, the slow movement has a rapt intensity and both Zimerman and Bernstein are involved and involving. However, as RO pointed out, outside the CD lists there are far more satisfying accounts available, not least Curzon and Szell (Decca JB102, 11/81).
I cannot summon a great deal of enthusiasm for the Kremer version of the Violin Concerto. It is undoubtedly powerful, but the slow movement lacks a sense of lyrical repose. With the Double Concerto—in spite of excellent solo playing, especially from Maisky—there is a curiously inert feeling about the performance overall. So this box, offered at slightly less than premium price is a doubtful investment. Far better to get (at genuine medium price) the splendid Gilels/Jochum coupling of just the two piano concertos, in performances that you could take to a Desert Island with confidence (DG 413 229-1GX2, 7/84). There are excellent equivalent chrome cassettes too.'