Khachaturian's splendid concerto, his best work alongside the orginal score for Gayaneh, dates from the early war years. I remember its London premiere given by Max Rostal (in the Adelphi Theatre I seem to recall), when it made an immediate impression on an audience which had gone to hear Tchaikovsky's Fourth Symphony. Indeed, there are few mid-twentieth-century concertos that make such an immediate communication or indeed are so easily tuneful. The indelible secondary theme of the first movement which is recalled in the finale, has a sinuous Armenian character and the explosive rhythmic energy of the outer movements is nicely balanced by the languorous and beautiful Andante—full of Eastern promise. David Oistrakh originally made the work his own. We first had it on some Decca 78rpm records (K1082/6, 3/43) taken from the queasy soundtrack of a Soviet film, and he later offered studio versions, in both mono and stereo (no longer available). It has recently disappeared from the concert hall as the composer's reputation has sagged, but it deserves at least an annual place at the Proms, instead of some of the tuneless offerings we do get!
The present performance is first rate. Perlman is on spiffing form and headily enjoying himself, and while Mehta is not a subtle accompanist he is thoroughly committed and makes a good deal of the rhythmic energy of the piece and sees that the obbligato decorations of the violin solo from the woodwind come over responsively. The recording is a bit studioish. I would have liked more resonance. But it is very faithful and the forwardly-balanced soloist is truthfully caught. The opening tutti of the finale is a little fierce but it suits the piece.
By the side of the Khachaturian the Glazunov Meditation sounds old fashioned, yet it is agreeable and played with an engaging warmth. But it is the second subject of the Khachaturian (especially as reprised with clarinet at the end of the first movement) that remains hauntingly in the memory.'