These two new versions of the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto bring obvious parallels, when both these brilliant young virtuosos have been presented by their respective record companies as standard-bearers, and each here follows the apt—and surprisingly rare—course of coupling it with another Slavonic violin concerto. If Wieniawski was Polish rather than Russian, he worked in Russia most of his life at very much the same period as Tchaikovsky.
Frank Peter Zimmermann produces consistently warm, rich tone from his first notes, matching it with the freely expressive rubato of his phrasing, always coping effortlessly with technical problems. But next to the others, Bell as well as Chung (Decca) and Kennedy (EMI), he lacks a little in both character and intensity. His romanticism is more generalized, with the second subject in the first movement for example pulled around and underlined in a way that distracts, where, say, Kennedy also very free, finds much more variety of tone and expression in his rallentando style.
Bell in that passage naturally uses rubato, but the result is sweet and simple, not quite as tender or intense as Chung but winningly individual. In the central Canzonetta too, Bell at a very measured speed, keeps his expressive warmth within a relatively steady pulse. He may not have the fantasy of Chung in the central section, but with its hushed pianissimos it is a most beautiful reading, markedly subtler than Zimmermann's sweet, rich treatment which hardly goes below the surface.
The very ease of Zimmermann's playing may detract from the intensity, and in the fireworks of the finale, delivered with fantastically even articulation, he again sounds just a little faceless next to the others. Bell too is wonderfully light in the main theme, but there is a dashing, volatile quality in his playing, which also owes something to Ashkenazy's idiomatic conducting. Sadly Bell does not open out the tiny cuts, which on record at least has now become standard practice (as on all the other versions). Admittedly the extra bars of scurrying passage-work are repetitive, and arguably should be cut, but completeness has now become an invariable asset on record.
He may not outshine Chung in the exuberance and fantasy as well as the individual poetry of her reading, but it is an outstanding interpretation none the less, and I am not surprised that it was a tape of his performance several years ago which directly led Decca to give him a contract. With full and atmospheric Cleveland sound, well-balanced it makes an excellent choice, particularly if you fancy the Wieniawski Second Concerto for coupling. Bell may not quite match Perlman in either of his recordings for his individual poetry, as when the soloist first takes up the big second-subject melody of the first movement or in the central Romance, but within its less searching compass Bell's is a masterly performance, full of flair. Some may prefer his fresher, rather less opulent tone. In any case, neither of Perlman's versions (with Barenboim for DG and Ozawa for EMI) has anything like so generous a coupling.
Ashkenazy's contribution in both works adds considerably to the impact of the performances. On Zimmerman's Berlin record, the Prokofiev finds him sounding much more inside the music rather than observing it from outside, and Maazei as conductor seems happier too. He is a fine dramatic Tchaikovskian, as one remembers from his early symphony series for Decca, but it is the Prokofiev which here plainly inspired him and his soloist in the work's sweet-sour juxtaposition of scherzando brilliance and yearning lyricism. The speed for the central scherzo is astonishingly fast but Zimmermann keeps it beautifully light. Only in the finale are there passages which I find a little too metrical. The sound is full and warm, though not so clear internally as either of the Deccas, or for that matter the other EMI recording (originally Eminence) for Kennedy.'