Jaime Laredo's performance of the Beethoven Concerto is scholarly, cultured and innovative. It is also daring, in that Laredo chooses to direct the Scottish Chamber Orchestra from the violin, as he has done previously with considerable success, in the Bruch G minor and Mendelssohn concertos (also on Pickwick). However, the elevated conception and extended duration of this work, whose first movement alone is longer than many classical concertos in their entirety, are factors which would seem to militate against the viability of the conductorless approach here.
Listening to this account, one realizes very quickly that the soloist has developed a remarkable rapport with his orchestra, and there are moments where the intimacy of their collaboration verges on the extraordinary. A comparison with Perlman and Zimmermann (both on EMI) reveals Laredo to be marginally quicker in the opening movement, and perhaps the inclusion of the fascinating quasi-orchestral cadenza contributes in this regard. At no point, however, did I detect any insecurities in the overall architecture of the movement, with the tangible change of atmosphere following the ominous semitone side-slip into the development sounding as convincing as anyone could wish. Traditionalists may observe, and with some justification, that the Concerto is somehow undermined without the familiar Kreisler cadenzas, but Jaime Laredo's choice of the first movement cadenza by Busoni is enterprising, not least because of the orchestral accompaniment during its closing section; its inclusion does, however, necessitate changes to the descending trills which customarily reunite soloist and orchestra before the coda.
The sensitivity of the orchestral accompaniment in the Larghetto is hampered by some balance problems, with excessive prominence given to the recurring horn motif, but the hushed central discourse for the violin is breathtaking in its rapt beauty, although Perlman benefits from the hallowed support of the Berlin Philharmonic to great advantage, in his live 1986 account with Barenboim. Schneiderhan, too, in his classic 1962 performance on DG, finds a deeper spirituality in this passage, although his tone is less lustrous than Grumiaux (Philips), but sadly, these recordings now sound dated. In the closing Rondo, Laredo's lightness of phrasing, and sharp rhythmic pointing brings a welcome relaxation and winningly infectious spontaneity to the proceedings, but Perlman remains marginally more compelling, with the added adrenalin and sense of occasion of live music making. Both he and Zimmermann play the full Kreisler cadenza in the Rondo, but although Laredo offers an abridged version, the insistent interruption later by the cellos and basses ensures that the closing pages of the work have passion and brilliance.
All the performances listed above offer the Romances to complement the Concerto, and although these accounts vary considerably over incidentals, none will disappoint. It is certain, however, that personal priorities will differ widely in the case of the concerto, and some listeners will value the questing and elevated strivings of Wolfgang Schneiderhan in preference to Arthur Grumiaux's objective and obviously classically rooted version. Perlman's live performance is exciting, illuminating and highly compelling, and strongly outshines Zimmermann's studio performance. Although Jaime Laredo's new reading may not be entirely to your taste if you value the Kreisler cadenzas, this admirable and reasonably priced contender, characterized by a zealous integrity, offers excellent value, and will give tremendous satisfaction.'