In contrast to the rounded phrasing and genial warmth that Fritz Kreisler brought to his own delightful encore-type pieces and arrangements, Barnabás Kelemen is every inch the edgy modernist, abetted by the late Zoltán Kocsis’ enlivening keyboard presence.
The gentle humor of Tambourin chinois turns acerbic as Kelemen jacks up the dynamics and imbues the accents with an almost Bartókian bite. Each of Schön Rosmarin’s thematic repetitions are divergently and urgently inflected, helped by Kocsis’ assertive and colorful projection. Kelemen heightens Syncopation’s rhythmic quirks with minuscule accelerations and slides, although similar gestures seem slightly contrived and overdone in Dvorák’s famous Humoresque.
Both violinist and pianist bring a more angular, chamber-like repartée than usual to Kreisler’s Liebeslied and Liebesfreud. The Gypsy Caprice’s dazzling runs and roulades truly sting, as do La Gitana’s unyieldingly darting declamatory phrases. On the other hand, Dvorák’s Indian Lament reveals a more introspective and tender side of Kelemen’s mastery.
In essence, Kelemen’s Kreisler is not Kreisler’s Kreisler; certainly it’s not your grandmother’s Kreisler. However, there’s no question that this gifted violinst communicates his conceptions at an extremely high level of artistry. Incidentally, this was Zoltán Kocsis’ last recording as a pianist, and he also wrote the superb booklet notes.
