Piotr Tchaikovsky (1840-1893)
Russian Dance from Swan Lake, Op. 20, Act III
Waltz of the Flowers from The Nutcracker Suite, Op. 71a (arr. Campbell for Violin & Orchestra)
Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 35
Valse sentimentale Op. 51 No. 6 (arr. C Peinado for violin & piano)
Valse-scherzo, Op. 34 (version for violin & piano)
Nocturne Op. 19: No. 4 (transcr. Langley for violin & piano)
Christian Li (violin)
Nicola Eimer (piano)
Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra/Jascha von der Goltz, Vasily Petrenko
rec. 2023/24, The Friary, Liverpool, UK
Decca 487 0360 [57]

Some critics have been very sniffy regarding the appointment of Finnish Wunderkind Klaus Mäkelä to various prestigious conducting posts with major orchestras such as the Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra,  the Oslo Philharmonic, the Orchestre de Paris, the Concertgebouw and, soon, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. In addition, he is only the third conductor in history to have an exclusive recording contract with Decca – all this beginning in his early twenties and he is still not yet thirty.

I mention this not because Mäkelä has anything to do with this recording under review but as background to the observation that the classical music world is no stranger to the cult of youth; Anne-Sophie Mutter made her first commercial recordings for Deutsche Grammophon aged only fifteen and a decade later made a live recording of the major work here at the Salzburg Festival under Karajan. That account is now a classic. How does one go about assessing a new recording of a work recorded literally hundreds of times, by every famous violinist you can think of – and some you can’t? In addition to Mutter’s, I have three favourite versions on my shelves: all vintage accounts, by Jascha Heifetz  – of course –  with Fritz Reiner, and Christian Ferras with Constantin Silvestri, both in 1957, and Erick Friedman with Seiji Ozawa in 1965. These form the essentially arbitrary but formidable basis of my comparison with this new recording from Sino-Australian prodigy Christian Li, made a few days before his seventeenth birthday. He, too, signed for Decca, at the tender age of twelve, and released his first single that year.

I make no judgement regarding the suitability or otherwise of artists being exposed to public scrutiny so young; Mozart was being paraded around the courts of Europe like a performing monkey at five years old and some genius is preternaturally precocious. In brief – although I haven’t been, so far – I have tried to disregard any reverse ageism, ignore the glossy, artfully posed “model-style” photos in the booklet and approach this recording with an entirely open mind, applying purely the criterion of whether I enjoyed this all-Tchaikovsky programme.

I like to glance at timings as they are sometimes significant. In sum, Li’s timings are on the slow side; speed-fiend Heifetz leaves him in the dust, taking overall 29:34 compared with Li’s 35:41 – nearly six minutes faster. Li’s tempi are similar to Mutter’s, except she is marginally more leisurely in the central movement. He is two minutes slower than Friedman and a minute and a half slower than Ferras in the first movement, and in the finale a minute and a half slower than Friedman and two minutes slower than Ferras – but the durations of the slow movements by all three are virtually identical.

In addition to the main item, we are given twenty-odd minutes of five “fillers” – and they are an absolute aural treat. The sound of the opening track is immediately spectacular – and highlights Li’s equally impressive technique. He is closely recorded but I don’t mind that, as it enables us to hear how perfect are his intonation and bowing; no slips or fudging: utterly precise. The depth and resonance of his tone reminds me of Catherine Manoukian‘s recording of Elgar’s violin concerto (review), about which I once facetiously remarked, “How did she manage to tuck that cello under her chin?”

After the two opening “lollipops”, we hear the concerto. Petrenko is in no hurry; this is a consciously indulgent, Romantic account but the fleetness and delicacy of Li’s articulation forestalls any sense of lethargy – and the passage before the cadenza of the first movement is highly dramatic. I love the way Li can fine back his tone to a whisper in that cadenza; his control of dynamics is especially impressive. The sweetness and steadiness of his piano high notes are a joy and the double stopping in the coda is flawless.

The slow movement is rapt and unhurried, with a lovely line, sensitively and discreetly accompanied by an energised RLPO; under its Conductor Laureate Petrenko, the melody really sings. The finale begins in a deceptively restrained manner but the aim is to keep the powder dry before the explosive, pyrotechnic climax, executed with breath-taking virtuosity.

It was arguably a programmatic miscalculation to conclude with three relatively short chamber music arrangements after such a display, the first waltz and final Nocturne being somewhat sombre and melancholy; at least the second waltz is jolly, but I would still have placed them before the concerto, even if they do function as encores – no matter, though; this is an impressive album.

Ralph Moore

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