Listening to these effervescent performances reaffirms an old but trusted adage – that many of the greatest performers were (or are) dedicated composers. For although Adolf Busch’s music deserves more exposure than it has so-far received (at least on disc), his recorded interpretations still have the power to raise an admiring smile. The Busch Chamber Players were in effect two separate ensembles, the first having been formed in 1935 (their London recordings admitted such esteemed guest-artists as Aubrey Brain and Evelyn Rothwell), the second in New York during the early-1940s. Busch’s son-in-law Rudolf Serkin was a keen participant in both ensembles and this spontaneous, elegantly styled 1938 account of Mozart’s E flat Piano Concerto is among the finest recorded examples of Serkin’s art. Busch’s bench-mark account of the formidable Adagio and Fugue in C minor recalls his spiritually searching Beethoven performances with the Busch Quartet from around the same period and the delightful Serenata notturna exhibits a phrasal ‘rightness’ that many modern ensembles could usefully learn from.
The Turkish Violin Concerto employs the ‘second’ group of players and is chock-full of personality. Beckmessers among you will no doubt quibble over the odd patch of ragged ensemble (there are one or two in the earlier recordings as well) and I should, I suppose, comment on minor imperfections in the solo line – some off-key intonation (at around 4'10'' into the first movement) and various passages where the left hand wants to go faster than the right (or, perhaps, vice versa). In other respects, however, Busch’s Turkish is a splendid affair, brisk, pert, shapely (plenty of judicious portamento) and wholly at one with its superb accompaniment. Sampling the first minutes of the Adagio should be enough to convince listeners of Evelyn Rothwell’s claim that playing with Busch’s mini-orchestra was no more – and no less – than “enlarged chamber music”.
As to the transfers, Roger Beardsley scarcely puts a foot wrong. The originals are reproduced in all their sonic glory (Busch was evidently blessed with exceptionally fine recording engineers) and although some ambience has been added, there is none of the tiresome electronic jiggery-pokery that other transfer systems inflict and that habitually distorts the authentic profiles of individual instruments. Beardsley’s method is simply to add ‘air’ and the effect is appealing. My only complaint concerns a marginally premature side-join 3'16'' into the slow movement of the Piano Concerto. In other respects, however, things go swingingly and Tully Potter’s notes tell us all we need to know.'