Viktoria Mullova, Boston Symphony Orchestra, Seiji Ozawa - Tchaikovsky, Sibelius: Violin Concertos (1986) CD-Rip

This coupling of the Tchaikovsky and Sibelius Violin concerti with Viktoria Mullova and Seiji Ozawa has been elevated to classic status. Reviewers gush over Mullova's rich, individualistic string tone and not without reason. She definitely carries most of the show, as Ozawa isn't the most sympathetic accompanist. I've heard much worse from Ozawa, though, and Boston plays with a wonderful, full tone that backs Mullova up well.

So far, my favorite version of the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto comes from Maxim Vengerov, Claudio Abbado, and the Berlin Philharmonic. That reading presents a pure, sunny view, one that thrives in an atmosphere of soulful playing from violinist and orchestra that nearly defines effortlessness. Mullova is definitely less sunny, but she's committed, perhaps more inward. She takes the piece with an undeniable aura of grandeur. It's very romantic sounding, yet with control that sounds iconic. The setback is Ozawa, who lets Boston sound big but does little more. I miss the finesse of Abbado's Berliners, not to mention Abbado's ability to let our feet off the ground. Nonetheless, it's definitely a win, thanks to Mullova's captivation and Boston, which plays phenomenally.

The Sibelius is nearly the whole show, however. There's little sunshine to speak of here, and Mullova's inspirational gifts flood the scene with playing that could hardly be more dark and cold. Here Ozawa's tendency for big sounds without flexibility is actually a plus. The 1st movement is rigid and uncompromising, with vision from Mullova that lands us right in the middle of a Finnish forest. You have to shake off the chill. We become lost in the fog, panting for the light only to feel that we are hopelessly lost. I can't describe how mesmerizing it is. We get much of this same feel through the rest of the concerto. The Adagio is heartfelt and desperate, with true Sibelian dignity. I don't think it's a bad idea to let the reigns go in the finale, making up for the depression of the preceding movements. Mullova doesn't, but we find relief all the same. It's here that I can be tempted to kick Ozawa's heels, but we still get the same overwhelming power. When Mullova comes in after the orchestral tuttis, we quickly realize who we're giving the most attention. All in all, this is a stunning reading, one that is a candidate for the best on record. While I can disagree with Ozawa in theory, Boston always blows me away (perhaps due more to its conductor than I want to admit) and Mullova is too good for praise.

It's clear I'm with those who were impressed by this album. You should be too.