Rojo Fumbles Full-Length Ballet for SFB

Photograph of a scene from the original production of Raymonda at the Imperial Mariinsky Theatre in 1898 (public domain in the United States)

Last night saw the opening of the third production for the 2025 Repertory season of the San Francisco Ballet. Raymonda was the second full-length ballet of the season, following up on Manon, which began the season. The choreography was by Artistic Director Tamara Rojo, based on a version that she created in January of 2022 for the English National Ballet. “For the record” (as they say), I first encountered this ballet in its entirety when Mikhail Baryshnikov staged it for American Ballet Theatre in 1980.

The original narrative is set in Hungary, where the title character is the fiancé of the crusader knight Jean de Brienne. Wedding preparations are interrupted with the arrival of the Saracen knight Abderakhman. The narrative then wanders into the dream world in which Abderakhman woos Raymonda. This is where different productions vary in what happens next. However, ultimately, Abderakhman is slain by Jean de Brienne by the end of the second act (which may or may not take place in that dream world). The third act is then devoted entirely to Raymonda’s wedding ceremony.

Rojo decided to shift the narrative from a timeless fairy tale to the Crimean War. The extended episode in the dream world is significantly reduced, but the result is a muddled account of who is on which side of the brutal battle in Crimea. The serious balletomane would probably do well to set aside any effort to make sense of the story and just treat the entire program as a series of corps de ballet performances with interjections of solo and duo efforts. In that context the music by Alexander Glazunov provides little more than “background;” but in last night’s performance it was at least given a moderately engaging interpretation in the orchestra pit by conductor Martin West.

This then raises the obvious question from the viewer in the audience: Is it worth the time to muddle through all those episodes strung together by a flimsy excuse for a narrative? The good news is that, for the most part, last night performers were in fine form when it came to executing the choreography they had been taught. The scenery may have been ambiguous, but it certainly did not distract the viewer from the dancers. The only real question is whether or not an entire evening should be spent on a series of well-performed episodes in the context of an overall “concept” that never rose above the level of “muddled.”

Back to the Dream-World

[updated 2/2/ 1:50 p.m.: Prior to the correction of a spelling error, this article first appeared in October of 2008.]

Today's performance by the Russian Chamber Orchestra under Alexander Vereshagin as part of the October Russian Music Festival organized by the Noontime Concerts™ series at Old St. Mary's Cathedral in San Francisco reminded me that Die Tote Stadt is not the only theatrical composition that spends the better part of its plot in the dream-world. Marius Petipa's ballet Raymonda, with music by Alexander Glazunov, goes into the dream-world in the second scene of its first act and remains there for all of its second act. Since this ballet was first presented in 1898, it predates The Interpretation of Dreams; and I doubt that Petipa would have had quite the analytic interest in dreams that occupied Sigmund Freud. Nevertheless, I once saw the Boston Ballet perform excerpts from Swan Lake as entertainment for a convention of the American Psychiatric Association, prefaced with remarks by dance critic Doris Hering to the effect that any prince who tells his mother that he wants to marry a swan must be ripe for analysis.

Similarly, one could approach Raymonda in terms of the psyche of its protagonist, who is basically a young woman who gets cold feet on her wedding night and dreams of being abducted by a Saracen chief who her betrothed had conquered in the Crusades. However, while both the music and the libretto of Die Tote Stadt delve deeply into the psyche of a man obsessed with his deceased wife, Raymonda is best known for the easily danceable music that Glazunov provided. Vereshagin presented a suite of four of those movements, all of which served primarily to revive memories of past ballet performances (in my case the American Ballet Theatre production staged by Rudolf Nureyev). Basically, this means that through Vereshagin the music conveyed its own sense of motion, sufficient to breath life into even the vaguest memories of a ballet company versed in the classical Russian style.

The rest of Vereshagin's program was also theatrical in nature, divided between opera and dance. While they were new to me, I suspect that the "Gavotte" and "Valse" that concluded the program were extracted from one (or two) of the "Ballet Suites" that Dmitri Shostakovich had composed for orchestra, not always with specific choreography in mind. I also suspect that the arrangement for chamber orchestra (strings and one percussion player) was Vereshagin's and was effective enough that one did not miss the usual lush orchestral sound characteristic of the composer.

On the opera side the program opened with the Polovtsian songs (rather than the more familiar dances) from the opera Prince Igor, by Alexander Borodin. Like the dances, these songs (again arranged for chamber orchestra without any vocalists) captured many of the idiomatic folk elements that can be found in the dances. Much of the rhetoric is similar, but there is a clear sense of a vocal line and accompaniment. The other operatic excerpt was the intermezzo from Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov's The Tsar's Bride.

Given Vereshagin's tendency to go "pops" with an encore, I wondered whether or not this concert would end with an encore of the "Tahiti-Trot," Shostakovich's orchestration (and arrangement) of Vincent Youmans' "Tea for Two." Those unfamiliar with this side of Shostakovich will probably appreciate the Wikipedia entry for this work:

The "Tahiti Trot" is Shostakovich's 1927^[1] orchestration of "Tea for Two" from the musical No, No, Nanette by Vincent Youmans. Shostakovich wrote it in response to a challenge from conductor Nikolai Malko: after the two listened to the song on record, Malko bet 100 roubles that Shostakovich could not completely re-orchestrate the song from memory in under an hour. Shostakovich took him up and won, completing the orchestration in around 45 minutes. The "Tahiti Trot" was first performed in 1928^[2], and has been a popular encore ever since. It was used as an entr'acte for the ballet The Age of Gold at the suggestion of conductor Alexander Gauk^{[citation needed]}.

However, the joy of this work really lies in Shostakovich's use of his orchestral palette; and I doubt that Vereshagin would have been able to maintain the Shostakovich flavor in a chamber orchestra version!

David Oistrakh’s Rarities on Warner

Readers may recall that last week I began my venture into the 31 CDs classified as Premières, Rarities & Live Performances in the Warner Remastered Edition box set collection of recordings of performances by Russian violinist David Oistrakh. This began with an examination of the two CDs identified as Early Recordings. I am now in a position to discuss those albums associated with the “Rarities” category.

The most unique of these is the complete recording of a recital that Oistrakh performed in Moscow on February 16, 1960. He was accompanied by Vladimir Yampolsky; and the “heart” of the program consisted of three sonatas, each from a different century. Oistrakh began with Johann Sebastian Bach’s BWV 1019 duo sonata in G major. He then leap-frogged into the late Romantic period with the last of Johannes Brahms’ three violin sonatas, Opus 108 in D minor. Late Brahms was followed by the Opus 1 of Karen Khachaturian (nephew of Aram), a three-movement sonata without a key specification.

Presumably, the rest of the album involved the encore selections, of which there were five, most of which were probably unfamiliar to much of the audience. Oistrakh began with the prelude-fugue coupling that constituted a solo violin partita by Alfred Mendelssohn. This was followed by the Opus 7 “Ciaccona” by Giovanni Battista Vitali, composed in 1682 for two violins and continuo violone and arranged for violin and piano by Léopold Charlier. This was followed by Oistrakh’s own arrangement of the sixth of the nine piano arrangements by Franz Liszt of “valses-caprices” by Franz Schubert. The encores were concluded with two works by twentieth-century composers: Sergei Prokofiev (his “Melody,” Opus 35b, Number 3) and Maurice Ravel (the familiar “Tzigane”).

Sergei Taneyev (from Wikimedia Commons, public domain)

Two of the CDs are identified as “Sonata Rarities.” They live up to that title through the composers they represent (in order of appearance): Nikolai Medtner, Mieczysław Weinberg, Vyacheslav Ovchinnikov, Sergei Taneyev, Zara Levina, and Wilhelm Stenhammar. There is also a “Bravura” album, which is framed by Niccolò Paganini at the beginning (with five of his Opus 1 caprices, beginning and concluding with arrangements by Fritz Kreisler and Leopold Auer, respectively) and Pablo de Sarasate’s Opus 25 (“Carmen Concert Fantasy”) at the end.

Finally, there is an album classified as “Vignettes.” This consists of 21 tracks, all of which are shorter than ten minutes in duration. Nine of the tracks are premiere releases. They are framed by arrangements by Carl Flesch of arias by George Frideric Handel at the beginning and the “Mazurka-oberek” by Alexander Glazunov on the final track.

Personally, I can attest to the “Rarities” classification. Yes, there were many familiar encounters (which the reader will easily recognize above). However, my mind is still trying to “digest” the abundance of “first contacts” I experienced while listening to the six CDs in this category!

SFB: Second Full-Length Ballet to Rethink Petipa

Photograph of the first act of Raymonda at the Bolshoi Theatre in 1900 (courtesy of the Moscow Imperial Bolshoi Theatre, public domain in the United States)

Readers may recall that this is the month when San Francisco Ballet (SFB) will begin its repertory season. As was announced at the beginning of this month, the season will begin with its first full-length ballet, Kenneth MacMillan’s three-act choreographic account of Antoine François Prévost’s novel, Manon Lescaut. The second full-length offering will involve a major rethinking of one of the classics created by Marius Petipa. This was Raymonda, staged from Benesh Movement Notation by Daniel Kraus with choreography for a score based on music by Alexander Glazunov adapted and edited by Gavin Sutherland and Lars Payne. This will be an SFB Premiere production.

Artistic Director Tamara Rojo has decided to reconceive the narrative by setting it during the time of the Crimean War. Those familiar with world history can probably guess that the title character will be reminiscent of Florence Nightingale. Rojo’s intention in creating this adaptation was to redefine the role of women in both wartime and society. As originally conceived, the ballet will be in three acts with an overall duration of about two and three-quarter hours.

Sadly, the SFB Web page for Raymonda says little about the narrative that will emerge from Rojo’s adaptation. My only encounter with this ballet was a production for American Ballet Theatre, which was staged by Rudolf Nureyev. The basic narrative for that staging involved a young woman who gets cold feet on her wedding night and dreams of being abducted by Abderakhman, a Saracen knight whom her betrothed had conquered in the Crusades. This idea of going into a dream-world and staying there for some time should not be unfamiliar to ballet-lovers, since The Nutcracker, first choreographed by Marius Petipa to some of the most familiar music by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, has the same overall structure!

The full list of performance dates and times is as follows:

• Saturday, March 1, 8 p.m.
• Sunday, March 2, 2 p.m.
• Tuesday, March 4, 7:30 p.m.
• Wednesday, March 5, 7:30 p.m.
• Thursday, March 6, 7:30 p.m.
• Friday, March 7, 8 p.m.
• Saturday, March 8, 2 p.m.
• Saturday, March 8, 8 p.m.

Dancers will alternate in the title role as usual. All performances will take place in the War Memorial Opera House, which is on the northwest corner of Van Ness Avenue and Grove Street (across Grove from Davies Symphony Hall). A single Web page has been created for purchasing tickets for all of the above dates and times. Tickets may also be purchased at the Box Office in the outer lobby of the Opera House or by calling 415-865-2000. The Box Office is open for ticket sales Monday through Friday from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.

Yoshimura Leaps Through Glazunov’s Hoops

The high point of yesterday afternoon’s concert in Davies Symphony Hall by the San Francisco Symphony Youth Orchestra, led by Wattis Foundation Music Director Daniel Stewart, was the concerto selection. Hiro Yoshimura, one of the ensemble’s four Co-Concertmasters, was the soloist in a performance of Alexander Glazunov’s Opus 82 violin concerto in A minor. Those that take their classical music seriously probably know about this concerto. There is no trouble in finding recordings with any number of familiar violinists (most of whom are of Russian descent). Nevertheless, yesterday afternoon was my first opportunity to listen to the music in performance; and it made for quite a spectacle.

There are no end of challenges that the composer imposed on the soloist. However, he is also rather well known for his capacity for lush instrumentation, even when the products of his composition efforts come across more as routine than as stimulating. The breadth of that instrumentation in Opus 82 thus made it an ideal platform for not only the soloist but also all the members of the ensemble. This made it the perfect “friends and family” offering for everyone in the audience rooting for someone on the stage.

In the midst of all that “public appeal,” however, Yoshimura was an impressive, perhaps even outstanding, soloist. He negotiated every difficult passage as easily as if he were falling off a log. At the same time, he knew how to bring just the right level of lyricism to the more expressive passages without making the whole affair sound syrupy. Mind you, regardless of the number of recordings in my collection, this is not music I visit frequently; but Yoshimura’s account of the solo work and Stewart’s balancing of the full ensemble definitely made me sit up and take notice!

The same could be said of the account of Arvo Pärt’s “Fratres,” which followed the intermission (which had been preceded by the concerto). For those unfamiliar with the music, it is based on a sequence of nine chords in three main voices. The composer has prepared so many different instrumentations that the list on the Wikipedia page practically fills my screen. The earliest of those versions, composed in 1977, was scored for a string ensemble with two percussion instruments, claves and bass drum. The initial instrumentation is modest; but, as the theme is repeated, it grows in richness to a peak, after which it recedes back into quietude.

In yesterday’s performance, the level of the dynamics was reflected by the intensity of the lighting. The string ensemble delivered with all the precision that the score demanded. Stewart knew exactly how to keep everything under control to endow the overall “narrative arc” with the expressiveness it merited. (He also had the good grace to acknowledge the minimal, but highly focused, efforts of the two percussionists during the subsequent bows.)

The entire program was framed by two “war horse” offerings. The overture was Felix Mendelssohn’s Opus 26, “The Hebrides,” known more familiarly as “Fingal’s Cave.” (This music used to be familiar to anyone hooked on Warner Bros. cartoons, but that aspect of my past has probably been long forgotten!) This is another composition that highlights a wide breadth of instrumentation, although the resources are far less than those of the Glazunov concerto. Thus, there was much to satisfy “friends and family;” but Stewart’s account was relatively routine.

Léon Bakst’s set design for the first part of Michel Fokine’s “Daphnis et Chloé” ballet, which complements the rhetoric of Ravel’s music (Houghton Library at Harvard University, from Wikimedia Commons, public domain)

The program concluded with the second of two suites that Maurice Ravel extracted from his score for MIchel Fokine’s one-act ballet “Daphnis et Chloé.” That suite is as much of a “war horse” as is the Mendelssohn overture; but, again, it gives everyone in the ensemble something to do. To be fair, they were all playing their hearts out in those wild measures of the coda of the “Danse générale;” and they certainly deserved the ovation they then received. If Stewart did not bring very much to his interpretation of the score, one could still appreciate the many details through which Ravel’s music spoke for itself.

More Russians from Richter on Profil

courtesy of Naxos of America

At the beginning of this month Profil released its latest collection of performances by Russian pianist Sviatoslav Richter. As I observed a little over a year ago, these releases have been organized around “composer pairings.” This new release departs from that convention; and I have been referring to the set of thirteen CDs as the “assorted Russians collection.” In “order of appearance” those Russians are Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, Alexander Borodin, Anatoly Lyadov, Alexander Glazunov, Modest Mussorgsky, Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, Sergei Rachmaninoff, Alexander Scriabin, Sergei Prokofiev, Dmitri Shostakovich, Mikhail Glinka, and Alexander Dargomyzhsky. Chronology does not seem to matter very much in this release, nor does the fact that Rachmaninoff and Prokofiev were “paired” on the last release. Indeed, the selections on the new album overlap those of its predecessor, the only difference being that the recordings were made on different dates.

That said, there is much to admire in the diversity in this new collection. Much of the content is likely to be unfamiliar to most listeners, even when the composer is well-known. A primary example can be found on the second disc, which presents back-to-back recordings of two performances of Tchaikovsky’s Opus 37 (“Grand”) piano sonata in G major. The same can be said of The Nursery, Mussorgsky’s cycle of nine songs, only seven of which were published. Those seven songs are sung by soprano Nina Dorliak, who was Richter’s close companion from 1945 until his death in 1998. Where Mussorgsky is concerned, the opportunity to listen to a Richter performance (recorded at a concert in Kiev in November of 1958) of the Pictures at an Exhibition suite is most welcome.

On the other hand Richter tends to avoid performing or recording “comprehensive cycles.” I was particularly disappointed that he did not give a complete account of Shostakovich’s Opus 87 set of 24 preludes and fugues in all the major and minor keys, clearly inspired by Johann Sebastian Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier. There is clearly a lot of thought behind the preludes and fugues that he did record; but it is hard to avoid feeling short-changed, particularly for the recordings made under studio conditions. Even more perplexing is his excerpting of Prokofiev’s Opus 22 Visions fugitives cycle of twenty miniatures, such a compelling overall model of brevity that one wonders why Richer resorted to “selections.”

The closest thing to a complete set can be found on the CD of the three Prokofiev “War” sonatas, Opus 82 in A major, Opus 83 in B-flat major, and Opus 84, also in B-flat major. These were not meant to be performed consecutively, and each of the three was recorded on a different date, two in concert settings and one in a studio. Unfortunately, around two or three minutes of the beginning of Opus 82, recorded at a concert in Kiev in July of 1960, are missing. This makes for a seriously impoverished listening experience, but invites gratitude for a movement structure with a recapitulation.

I would therefore suggest that this release will probably appeal to only the most enthusiastic listeners of Richter’s performances.

Barbirolli on Warner: Concerto 78s

The second category in my survey of Sir John Barbirolli: The Complete Warner Recordings will be the concerto recordings original released as 78 RPM albums. One of my first observations was that I was already familiar with about half of this content. The four concerto performances by pianist Artur Rubinstein are also included in the 94-CD Rubinstein Collection, originally produced by RCA; and there are two CDs of content that had been released, again originally by RCA, in Jascha Heifetz: The Complete Album Collection. The Heifetz recordings cover five concertos and three “encore” selections, Pablo Sarasate’s “Zigeunerweisen” (Gypsy life) and two virtuoso pieces by Camille Saint-Saëns, the Opus 28 coupling of an introduction to a rondo capriccioso and the Opus 83 “Havanaise.” Finally, there is a single concerto recording by Yehudi Menuhin, which can also be found in the Historic Recordings box of the mammoth Warner Classics collection The Menuhin Century.

Among these “reruns,” the only real disappointment is Menuhin playing Robert Schumann’s WoO 23 concerto in D minor. Menuhin never seems to get his head around what makes this concerto tick; and, to be fair, he is far from the only one to find the piece problematic. In those circumstances it is difficult to tell just how well-informed Barbirolli was. However, the recording was made with the New York Philharmonic (then known as the Philharmonic-Symphony Society of New York), whose relationship with Barbirolli was not the best.

On the other hand there is refreshing diversity in the recordings made by both Rubinstein and Heifetz. Rubinstein’s repertoire begins with Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (K. 488 in A major), proceeds through both of Frédéric Chopin’s concertos, and concludes with Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s Opus 23 (first) concerto in B-flat minor. Rubinstein’s approach to Mozart may not have been “historically informed;” but both his clarity of execution and his give-and-take with Barbirolli are likely to satisfy the attentive listener.

The Heifetz repertoire also begins with Mozart (K. 219, the last of the five concertos written in the key of A major) and also includes Tchaikovsky (Opus 35 in D major). The other concerto composers are Henri Vieuxtemps (Opus 31 in D minor), Henryk Wieniawski (Opus 22 in D minor), and Alexander Glazunov (Opus 82 in A minor). Equally satisfying is the recording of Heifetz’ frequent colleague, Gregor Piatigorsky, playing Schumann’s Opus 129 cello concerto in A minor. Suffice it to say that Piatigorsky is much more at home with Schumann than Menuhin was!

Several other historically significant pianists are included on these recordings: Wilhelm Backhaus (Edvard Grieg’s Opus 16 in A minor), Alfred Cortot (his own edition of Chopin’s Opus 21 concerto in F minor), Edwin Fischer (Mozart’s K. 482 in E-flat major), and Artur Schabel (Mozart’s K. 595 in B-flat major). One could not ask for a better survey of virtuoso piano performances during the first half of the twentieth century. Similarly, the violin soloists include Mischa Elman (Johann Sebastian Bach’s BWV 1042 concerto in E major and Tchaikovsky’s Opus 35) and Fritz Kreisler (Ludwig van Beethoven’s Opus 61 in D major and Johannes Brahms Opus 77 in D major). Some may think that Kreisler was serving up the usual meat and potatoes; but his CD definitely deserves attentive listening, including the cadenzas of his own composition.

Even with the latest remastering techniques, one is aware of the vintage of all of these recordings. Nevertheless, this collection features a significant array of twentieth-century virtuosi; and, for all of our contemporary perspectives, there is much to be learned from all of them. The remastering allows one to appreciate the overall flow of each selection without having to worry about breaks involved with changing one 78 disc for another!

Ninth California Andriasov Festival at O1C

Iosif and Arshak Andriasov (from the Old First Concerts event page for yesterday’s performance)

For as long as I have been following Victor Romasevich’s work as a violinist, I have been aware of his advocacy of the music of Iosif Andriasov and his son Arshak. Romasevich had studied both violin and viola with Iosif; and, when he took over the leadership of the Jupiter Chamber Players in 2002, he worked with his new colleagues to advance that advocacy. My primary encounters with Jupiter and the music of the two Andriasovs has been through Old First Concerts (O1C) programming. Yesterday afternoon O1C hosted the Jupiter’s latest program, named as the ninth California Andriasov Festival. Romasevich was joined by Michael Jones on second violin, Stephen Levintow on viola, and Paul Rhodes on cello. The program was live-streamed from Old First Presbyterian Church and is now available as a YouTube video.

The program provided Romasevich with the opportunity to display a new talent. He took to the piano keyboard to provide accompaniment for three of Iosif’s duo compositions. In “order of appearance,” these were for viola, violin, and cello. The first of these, the Opus 30 “Meditation,” was originally composed for a cappella choir and subsequently arranged for viola and piano. The Opus 4 “Musical Sketch” was originally composed for flute and piano, and Iosif subsequently transcribed the flute part for violin. The Opus 24 “Musical Sketch” began as concertante music for oboe and chamber orchestra; and, in this case, the version for cello and piano was arranged by Arshak. Arshak was also represented on the program by his Opus 7 piece for string quartet; and Jupiter played Iosif’s Opus 1 quartet and his Opus 32, entitled “The Spring.”

The program also featured quartet music by Alexander Glazunov composed in memory of Mitrofan Petrovich Belyayev. Belyayev was the son of a rich timber merchant and an avid amateur musician. He channeled his share of the family wealth into establishing a music publishing house in 1885, which provided a platform for 35 Russian composers, one of whom was Glazunov. After his death (in either December of 1903 or January of 1904 depending on the calendar being used), Glazunov composed his Opus 105 elegy for string quartet as a memorial gesture. He also contributed the final movement of a string quartet whose previous movements were by three other Belyayev composers: Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, Anatoly Lyadov, and Alexander Borodin. Each of the four movements used the “pitch spelling” B-la-F as a motif.

The program began with Dmitri Shostakovich’s earliest published work for string quartet. His Opus 36 consisted of two short arrangements of previously-composed music. The “Elegy” is taken from an aria sung by the protagonist of Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District. The “Polka” involves one of the composer’s best-known short pieces, originally composed for the satirical ballet The Golden Age.

All of this made for an impressively diverse repertoire. All of the performances were satisfying, and Romasevich also provided some context by reading brief passages from Iosif’s diary. Remarkably, the entire program fit into the duration of about one hour. It may be worth noting that the players followed the usual conventions for quartet seating, since eye contact was a critical factor in their performance. This may have put a bit of a strain on proper social distancing, but all four of the players wore masks.

Profil’s Anthology of Violinist Michael Rabin

courtesy of Naxos of America

A little over a week ago, Profil released its latest archival anthology, modestly entitled A Genius on the Violin. The collection itself is more modest than the title, since it consists of four CDs of recordings of the American violinist Michael Rabin. To be fair, however, Rabin’s life was tragically short. He died on January 19, 1972 at the age of 35. A neurological condition had begun to undermine his sense of balance. He had taken one fall during a recital at Carnegie Hall, and a more serious fall in his New York City apartment was the cause of his death.

Rabin was born in New York on May 2, 1936, the son of a violinist in the New York Philharmonic. This sets him apart from the three distinguished violinists that were raised in San Francisco: Yehudi Menuhin (April 22, 1916, leaving New York for San Francisco at a very early age), Ruggiero Ricci (July 24, 1918, born in San Bruno), and Isaac Stern (July 21, 1920, born in Poland but arriving in San Francisco when he was fourteen months old). Ricci may be the most interesting point of reference, since in 1947 he was the first violinist to record the complete set of 24 Caprices for solo violin composed by Niccolò Paganini. However, while Ricci was over 25 when he made that recording, Rabin recorded the full collection in 1951, when he was about ten years younger.

That recording was made for EMI, now a division of Sony Music; so it is not included in Profil’s collection. Paganini is represented only by the Opus 6 (first) concerto in D major in a 1954 recording made with the Philharmonia Orchestra conducted by Lovro von Matačiċ. The other “usual concerto suspects” are, in order of appearance, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, Alexander Glazunov, Henryk Wieniawski, Felix Mendelssohn, and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. In the same vein there is also a recording of Max Bruch’s Opus 46 “Scottish Fantasy.”

On the other hand there is one significant departure from all of this familiarity: Paul Creston’s Opus 78 (second) violin concerto. Creston wrote this concerto for Rabin. Failure to mention this composition on Rabin’s Wikipedia page constitutes a serious sin of omission. The concerto was given its premiere performance on November 17, 1960 with Georg Solti conducting the Los Angeles Philharmonic; and the Profil collection concludes with the “live” recording of that event. Creston is probably even more out of fashion than Rabin these days, and any attempt to restore attention among serious listeners deserves significant appreciation.

The “chamber” repertoire is confined to the third for the four CDs in this collection. Johann Sebastian Bach is represented only by the BWV 1005 solo violin sonata in C major, but this is one of the best examples of Rabin’s consummate skill at balancing rich expressiveness against intense focus on technique. The two sonatas are the third, in the key of G major, of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Opus 30 collection and Gabriel Fauré’s Opus 13 (first) sonata in A major. The pianist for both of these selections is Lothar Broddack.

This is a disappointingly modest collection. To be fair, however, the six CDs compiled for the EMI collection are not much richer in content; and they do not include the Creston concerto. There are other releases that include a recording of this premiere performance, but Profil gives the concerto an extra jolt of significance through the context that the entire collection sets.