Paganini closely guarded the music of his concertos (not wanting them to fall into the hands of rivals) and the manuscript of the Fourth Concerto was for many years thought to be lost. But it suddenly reappeared in 1954, was premiered by Grumiaux and later recorded by Szeryng. Muti presents its rather inflated opening tutti with warm-hearted aplomb and Kremer clearly relishes its technical challenges. He is rather aloof but his bravura is immaculate and he unbends to enjoy the ingenuous melody of the Adagio flessibile con sentimento, to which he gives an exquisitely gentle reprise; the characteristic finale is then dispatched with easy brilliance. But for his first movement cadenza Kremer confects a collage from Paganini’s themes plus motives from Schnittke’s A Paganini for solo violin, opening with a passage of pugnacious atonality. This might work as a joke at a live performance, but on record it sticks out like a sore thumb, showing a total lack of consideration for composer and listener alike. It is not something to which one would willingly return and it completely spoils the first movement.
Only the solo part survives of the four-movement Sonata Varsavia plus an unauthentic manuscript for violin and piano. So Pietro Spada has resourcefully recomposed the orchestral ritornellos which separate the passages of solo fireworks, and the result is a complete success. Of the four movements, the third, Tema polacca, is the most memorable. But with that outrageous cadenza (and only 49 minutes of music offered), this disc is not competitive, well recorded though it is. Those wanting the Fourth Concerto would do better to stick with Accardo and Dutoit.'