Reviews | RH-019 | IVRY GITLIS | in memoriam "inédits et introuvables"

If your ideal of violin playing is warm and fuzzy, this set may not be for you. Born in Haifa in 1922, Ivry Gitlis studied with Enescu, Flesch, and Thibaud. He was blessed with a long life, dying in 2020 in Paris at age 98. The drive and intensity of Gitlis’s performances were unique. Rhythms were incisive, attacks were strong, and his playing was muscular, more sinew than sensuousness. Above all, Gitlis’s style was deeply personal. For all its edginess and drive, it also could sparkle with wit and geniality in the right repertoire. More often, however, his playing exuded white heat.

In this memorial collection the finale of the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto and both performances of the Sibelius Concerto are propulsive and driven, but they are never out of control. There is clear purpose and direction in the playing, and Gitlis also clearly listens to the orchestra, reacting to touches of phrasing from the first-desk soloists. Throughout this entire set, in 11 hours of playing there is nothing that sounds as if Gitlis is on automatic pilot.

Tonal beauty does not appear to have been a priority, not as the term is understood by most. Whether or not Gitlis had carefully thought out every gesture ahead of time, it all sounds as if he were making it up on the spot. He keeps you wondering what might come next. For example, there is his entrance in the 1980 broadcast of the Brahms Violin Concerto from Bucharest, where the slashing attacks are the polar opposite of the suavity of a Heifetz or Kreisler. Those slashes inaugurate a performance of great passion and deep expressivity. Like many of the performances here (almost all of which are live broadcast recordings), there are momentary, forgivable slips of intonation and ensemble. Rhine Classics (a Taiwan company despite its name) prints a statement in the booklet indicating that Gitlis listened to all of the restorations in this set and approved them for release.

The collection’s highlights include the Tchaikovsky, Sibelius, Brahms, and Nielsen concertos. Of the two versions of the Sibelius, one is from 1959 conducted by Louis de Froment with the Luxemburg Radio Orchestra; the other is from 1964 under Gérard Devos with the French Radio Orchestra. I prefer the first of those; the second is miked a bit too closely, emphasizing the dryness of Gitlis’s sound, and the orchestral playing is rougher. In all four of these concertos the depth of the violinist’s conviction is such that while you are listening, you are absolutely convinced that this must be the right way to play the music.

The importance of this set, which is titled “inedits et introuvables” (unpublished and rare), is underlined by the fact that it offers the only recordings of Gitlis playing the Beethoven, Brahms, and Nielsen concertos. The Beethoven is very much worth hearing, but it dates from 1995 when the violinist’s tone had turned even harder. However, the positive elements still outweigh the negatives, and it doesn’t surprise me that Gitlis approved its release. He follows the traditional practice of playing Joachim’s cadenza in the Brahms and Kreisler’s in the Beethoven.

The 1969 performance of Stravinsky’s Violin Concerto with Zubin Mehta and the French National Radio Orchestra is another highlight. Gitlis’s strongly focused tone is perfect for Stravinsky’s Neoclassical style, and Mehta is extremely attentive in accompanying him. The performance with pianist Charlotte Lois Zelka of Stravinsky’s Duo Concertant is one of the few examples of a commercial recording in this set. It was one of Gitlis’s well-received Vox LPs from the 1950s, as is the Berg Chamber Concerto reissued here.

Lalo’s Symphonie espagnole (minus the Intermezzo, which was often cut in those days) lacks the warmth that many violinists bring to it. But, brilliantly accompanied by John Frandsen and the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra, Gitlis makes a case for his more angular and driven approach. Richard Strauss’s Violin Sonata, from a rehearsal only identified as “late 1990s” with pianist Ana-Maria Vera, is one of the least effective recordings here. This is music that really needs a warmer, fuller tone than Gitlis gives it, and Vera’s pianism is somewhat blunt as well. It is interesting, though, to hear Gitlis in rehearsal.

The Strauss is followed by a remarkable performance of Tchaikovsky’s A-Minor Piano Trio from a 2002 BBC Wigmore Hall broadcast. Pianist Nelson Goerner and cellist Steven Isserlis cooperated in making the recording available, and one can hear why. Tempos are on the fast side, but the phrases breathe naturally, and the performance is marked by some very tender playing from all three partners in the quieter variations in the big second movement. There are too many superb recordings of this trio to make any claim of superiority here; but the reading certainly holds its own alongside the competition.

Two exciting performances document Gitlis’s partnership with another highly individual artist, pianist Martha Argerich. Their 2006 reading of Mozart’s Violin Sonata No. 18 in G, K 301, may be too intense for some listeners, but a similar approach might seem appropriate for Beethoven’s “Kreutzer” Sonata from 2003. I’ll admit to being swept away by both. One feels that the violinist and pianist are enjoying pushing each other to extremes.

A 2005 broadcast from Lugano, Switzerland brings two generations of musicians together: the 83-year-old Gitlis nearing the end of his career and the 24-year-old pianist Polina Leschenko at the beginning of what has turned into an important career. The performance is just what you want for Brahms’s Violin Sonata No. 3, a genuine conversation among equals. Their energy in the finale, Presto agitato, is infectious, and the deeply felt lyricism in the Adagio is moving.

Some unusual repertoire adds to the value of this set, particularly Viotti’s First Violin Concerto and August Wilhelmj’s reorchestration of the first movement of Paganini’s First Violin Concerto. There are also a handful oddities. Appearing in concert with the Australian Chamber Orchestra in 2000, Gitlis performed arrangements for violin and string orchestra by the ensemble’s conductor, Richard Tognetti, of the “Kreutzer” Sonata and Saint-Saëns’s Introduction and Rondo capriccioso. The Saint-Saëns works in this form and is given a performance of great charm and vitality. Gitlis employs very effective rubato, and the string orchestra follows him wherever he goes. The Beethoven, to me, gains nothing and loses a good deal of the work’s original focus without the piano.

Gitlis’s own improvisations on Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess, Cole Porter’s “Night and Day,” and Harold Arlen’s “Over the Rainbow” are charming, inventive, and at times witty. His spoken interjections add to the fun, as does the knowledge that you are listening to an 88-year-old violinist whose musicianship and humor are intact, as is enough of his technique to pull these jaunty pieces off.

It is important to approach this set understanding the nature of the performances. The level of spontaneity in Gitlis’s playing, and its extremes, means that there will be less than perfect ensemble all the time. The end of the Tchaikovsky Concerto, for instance, is a scramble. If precision is essential to your enjoyment of music, probably this is not the best place to look. But if you are willing to go along on a wild ride, there is much here that is thrilling.

The quality of Rhine’s transfers, done by Emilio Pessina, is superb throughout. This is actually the label’s second Gitlis retrospective; it was preceded in 2019 by a two-CD set titled Ivry Gitlis: The Early Years, which I have not heard. I do question some of the editorial decisions here, particularly the lengthy applause frequently left in. But in general Rhine has created a valuable tribute to one of the 20th century’s genuinely important violinists whose recorded legacy prior to the release of these two sets has been inadequate in representing his talent.

This article originally appeared in Issue 45:5 (May/June 2022) of Fanfare Magazine.

In Ivry Gitlis, Carl Nielsen's Violin Concerto found a playful and animated spokesperson, one who inflects the notes with a birdlike touch and throws open the windows to greet the bracing Danish sunlight. [...] Rhine Classics' latest Gitlis release ('In memoriam') includes the only versions we have by him (as yet) not only of the Nielsen but also the Brahms and Beethoven Concertos [...]. The playing is typically airborne and quixotic, the silvery tone finely tapered with a generally (though not consistently) fast vibrato and a keen attack of the bow. [...] Other additions to Gitlis's repertoire on disc include a memorable bold account of Tchaikovsky's Piano Trio with Steven Isserlis and Nelson Goerner, where the two younger players follow Gitlis's lead and grasp the essence of the musical moment. Lalo's Symphonie espagnole rather resembles the famous pre-war recording by Gitlis's guiding musical star Bronislaw Huberman. [...] The Gitlis's 'disc premieres' don't end there. [...] then, perhaps most remarkable of all, a recording from Lugano in 2010 that finds the octogenarian miracle worker playing a Gershwin/Porter/Arlen sequence (pianist Cyril Barbessol) where he's totally  'in the zone', meaning forget such respectful 'straight men' as Perlman or Heifetz but think rather in terms of Grappelli, Stuff Smith or Ray Nance, real jazzers who while you hear them you can't imagine that they've ever laid eyes on a page of Beethoven. But Gitlis has, of course [...]. This has to be one of the great violin sets of the past decade, in mostly excellent sound [...].

14 November 2021 | Jean-Charles Hoffelé | ARTAMAG' - Focus - Le disque du jour |  LE VIOLON PARLE 

Ivry Gitlis était devenu pour nous tous qui fréquentions les concerts parisiens une présence qui semblait éternelle. Le sourire toujours un peu moqueur, l’anecdote aisée, l’œil qui frise avant une petite saillie humoristique, au bras de Martha ou accompagné d’amis fidèles, il s’était fait une religion de venir entendre ses confrères. Qui aurait pu le penser mortel ? Certainement pas Emilio Pessina, qui après avoir publié un double album consacré à ses enregistrements de jeunesse s’était attelé à la mise au point de ce coffret, faisant écouter à Ivry les bandes d’archives qu’il dénichait. Finalement la mort sera passée par là, emportant le violoniste, et transformant ce coffret pensé pour qu’il soit publié de son vivant, en hommage.

En rien un hommage funèbre ! Tous les visages du violoniste y paraissent, de ses années de pleine gloire au tournant des décennies 1950/1960 jusqu’en 2002 où il rejoignait Steven Isserlis et Nelson Goerner pour un Trio de Tchaïkovski comme venu d’un autre monde musical. Ces portamentos, ce vibrato de chanteuse, ces phrasés aux accents expressifs rappellent que Gitlis a fait perdurer dans un siècle, où les violonistes auront appris à gourmer un peu trop leurs archets, le style flamboyant hérité des grands princes de l’archet romantique. S’y ajoute un goût pour le jeu rhapsodique un peu tzigane, un imaginaire qui restera marqué par l’art de phraser et de danser d’une certaine musique ashkénaze, que la fantaisie native d’Ivry infusait à tout ce qu’il jouait.

La moisson est abondante, évidemment inégale. L’entendre jouer le Concerto de Brahms avec tant de caractère donne soudain aux cadences de Joachim un parfum absolument tzigane, l’Orchestre de la Radio Roumaine trouvant sans peine à s’accorder à ce diapason stylistique singulier, mais en 1980, l’archet râpait déjà. Peu importe, quel feu ! Plus tardif encore (1995), le Beethoven venu du Japon, dont le Larghetto sonne comme un moment de grâce, aussi émacié d’archet qu’en soit le son.

En musique de chambre, et même tardivement, il reste un fabuleux conteur avec Martha (la 9e Sonate de Beethoven) ou ses amis (Polina Leschenko pour la 3e de Brahms, Ana-Maria Vera pour la rare Sonate de Richard Strauss), mais le sommet de ces captations reste le grand bouquet de concertos enregistré durant les années 1960 et 1970, ainsi que la réédition de deux gravures VOX de 1954 et 1956, le Kammerkonzert de Berg et le Duo concertant de Stravinski ; pour l’un et l’autre paraît une pianiste de premier rang totalement oubliée aujourd’hui, Charlotte Lois Zelka.

Il faut entendre la concentration de cet archet dans la Symphonie espagnole captée à Göteborg en 1968, le jeu sculptural qu’il met au Concerto de Nielsen magnifié par la direction abrupte de Marius Constant à l’inverse de celle d’André Jolivet qui marche sur des œufs dans le Concerto « A la mémoire d’un ange » de Berg, laissant le violoniste assumer seul une lecture mahlérienne, d’une émotion assumée.

Folie !, le Finale du Sibelius avec Gérard Devos qui entraîne le Philharmonique dans une course incendiaire. Quel archet !, qui prend tous les risques et brûle ses cordes ! Admirable Ivry, tout entier vivant dans cette somme prodigieuse, ne la ratez pas !

For all of us who frequented Parisian concerts, Ivry Gitlis had become a seemingly eternal presence. Always with a slightly mischievous smile, a ready anecdote, and a twinkle in his eye before a witty remark, whether on Martha's arm or accompanied by close friends, he had made it a point to come and hear his colleagues. Who could have imagined his death? Certainly not Emilio Pessina, who, after releasing a double album devoted to his early recordings, had dedicated himself to putting together this box set, playing Ivry the archival tapes he unearthed. Ultimately, death intervened, taking the violinist and transforming this box set, conceived for release during his lifetime, into a tribute.

Not at all a funeral tribute! All facets of the violinist are on display, from his years of greatest glory at the turn of the 1950s/60s to 2002, when he joined Steven Isserlis and Nelson Goerner for a Tchaikovsky Trio that seemed to come from another musical world. These portamentos, this singer's vibrato, these expressively accented phrases remind us that Gitlis perpetuated, in a century where violinists have perhaps learned to over-strike their bows, the flamboyant style inherited from the great masters of the Romantic bow. Added to this is a taste for a somewhat gypsy-like rhapsodic style, an imagination forever marked by the art of phrasing and dancing in a certain Ashkenazi music, which the native of Ivry infused into everything he played.

The harvest is abundant, though admittedly uneven. Hearing him play the Brahms Concerto with such character suddenly gives Joachim's cadenzas an absolutely gypsy flavor, the Romanian Radio Orchestra finding it easy to match this singular stylistic pitch, but in 1980, the bow was already scraping. No matter, what fire! Even later (1995), the Beethoven from Japan, whose Larghetto sounds like a moment of grace, however thin the bowing may be.

In chamber music, even later in his career, he remained a fabulous storyteller with Martha (Beethoven's 9th Sonata) or his friends (Polina Leschenko for Brahms's 3rd, Ana-Maria Vera for the rarely performed Richard Strauss Sonata), but the pinnacle of these recordings remains the large collection of concertos recorded during the 1960s and 1970s, as well as the reissue of two VOX recordings from 1954 and 1956: Berg's Kammerkonzert and Stravinsky's Duo Concertant. For both recordings, a first-rate pianist, now completely forgotten, appears: Charlotte Lois Zelka.

You must hear the intense focus of that bow in the Spanish Symphony recorded in Gothenburg in 1968, the sculptural touch he brings to the Nielsen Concerto, magnified by Marius Constant's abrupt conducting, in stark contrast to André Jolivet's delicate approach in Berg's "To the Memory of an Angel" Concerto, leaving the violinist to carry out a Mahlerian interpretation of unabashed emotion.

Folly! The Sibelius Finale with Gérard Devos sweeps the Philharmonic into a blazing frenzy. What a bow! Taking every risk and setting the strings ablaze! Admirable Ivry, fully alive in this prodigious collection—don't miss it! [JCH]

15 October 2021 | Stephen Greenbank | MusicWeb International | Ivry Gitlis - in memoriam "inédits et introuvables"  A handsome tribute.