This is a sealed brand new copy of the classic LP of Arturo Delmoni's "Songs My Mother Taught Me".
There is a slight indentation in the center of the front cover, difficult to photograph, and not deep enough to affect the LP.
This rare record was on Harry Pearson's Recommended LP list in
The Absolute Sound.This a review from Stereophile (June, 1988)Performers are:
Arturo Delmoni, violin; Meg Bachman Vas, piano
Tracks:Kreisler: Tempo di Menuetto
Brahms: Hungarian Dance No.1
Valdez: Gypsy Serenade
Paradis: Sicilienne
Sarasate: Romanza Andaluza
Massenet: Meditation
Tartini: Variations on a Theme of Corelli
Smetana: From the Home Country
Gluck: Melodie
Vieuxtemps: Romance "Desespoir"
Faure: Apres Un Reve
D'Ambrosio: Canzonetta
Mendelssohn: Song Without Words ("May Breeze")
Kreisler: Sicilienne et Rigaudon
Dvorak: Songs My Mother Taught Me
North Star DS 0004. David Hancock, eng.; Bruce Foulke, prod. A-D. TT: 52:51
Here,
at last, is one huge exception to the "Rule": an outstanding musical
performance superbly recorded. Songs My Mother Taught Me is the product
of a love affair between violinist Arturo Delmoni and the almost defunct
practice of programming only short pieces in recitals. Delmoni's aim
was to recreate that lost practice, and the result is stunning.
The
musicianship here is densely compassionate. The recording is the finest
I have ever heard in the small-ensemble category. It easily surpasses
the Francesco Trio's Dvorak effort on Wilson and has an unequivocal edge
on the Mayorga/Steinhardt collaboration on Sheffield. It is, in short,
an answer to the prayers of the music lover/audiophile.
Delmoni
may not be a household name, but his playing is a tribute to his
teachers—Jascha Heifetz, Josef Gingold, and Nathan Milstein. There could
be no finer pedigree, and if this recording is an indication, Delmoni
may be on his way to joining their ranks.
He has chosen 15 works
ranging in playing time from 2:35 to 4:52. They are all from the
Romantic repertoire, and, as presented here, make up far more than a
collection of encore crowd-pleasers.
Delmoni eschews the
pyrotechnics that dazzle in favor of a warm lyricism that, through its
judicious musicianship, lets the music stand on its own. There is no
cheap virtuosity here—Delmoni's bow is a rapier, not a broadsword. The
showmanship often employed in such pieces as these is replaced with what
comes across as a loving respect for music over technique. Don't
misunderstand—there's plenty of technique here, but it isn't the reason
Delmoni recorded this album.
From the brightness of the Sarasate
to the darkness of the Gluck to the turmoil of the Vieuxtemps, the music
comes across as unfailingly right. Delmoni is a musician of sensitivity
and power.
Accompanist Meg Bachman Vas is of similar
temperament. Some other recordings of these works put the pianist in a
more prominent role. But, like Delmoni, Vas seems intent on presenting
the music, not herself, and in doing so speaks profusely for her own
skills and taste.
The recording gets it all down in almost
startling fidelity. A Studer A80 and Cambridge C35 microphones were used
in New York City's Church of the Holy Trinity. There was no
equalization or noise reduction in the chain.
The music simply is
there in timbre, ensemble, and ambience. You hear the wood of the
violin and the horsehair of the bow; you hear the piano sounding
board—not in the garish detail of a close-miked job, but in the lush
bloom of the concert hall. It isn't the real thing right there in your
listening room, but it's about as close as we've come so far.
All
of these attributes are slightly more pronounced in the LP format,
especially the ambiance. The CD, by comparison, seems to box up the
soundstage, but that is its most severe shortcoming.
This is a
recording to own whether you have a Japanese rack system or a
no-limits-known setup. Both playing and sound are among the best you
will ever have heard.