– Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Adagio in E major K 261 (arranged for violin and piano by Max Rostal
– Ludwig van Beethoven: Sonata for Violin and Piano No. 7 in c minor Op. 30 No. 2
– Sergey Prokofiev: Sonata for Violin and Piano No. 1 in f minor Op. 80
– Dmitri Shostakovich: Selection from the 24 Preludes for Piano Op. 34 (arranged for violin and piano by Dmitri Zyganow)

Encores:
– Dmitri Shostakovich: another Prelude from Op. 34
– Johannes Brahms: Hungarian Dance No. 3
– Jules Massenet: Meditation from Thais

The greatest pleasure in listening to—and watching!—Maxim Vengerov play is the absolute joy in music that he projects with each note. He plays a triumphant triple-stop: he beams. He brings his bow to the string in preparation for a soft, tender melody: he closes his eyes and smiles in anticipation. Throughout the recital’s varied program, Vengerov managed to convey that there was nowhere he would have rather been than performing for Wednesday night’s audience. And his enthusiasm was contagious: the usually well-behaved Berlin audience broke into spontaneous applause and laughter several times, once in the middle of an encore. (Granted, this was when Vengerov snuck a tricky downward scale with left hand pizzicato into the Brahms Hungarian Dance. The two students seated next to me actually gasped in unison). Really, it seems like Maxim Vengerov just wants to have fun. And when he has fun, everyone else does too.

Vengerov’s other strength is his amazingly versatile sound. Whereas some artists—the late pianist Karl Ulrich Schnabel, for example—talk about basing their interpretations mainly on an emotional understanding of the piece, Vengerov seems to be following his instinct for sound, letting its color and texture dictate the direction and shape of each phrase. The result is an extremely nuanced performance with an unusual focus on beauty. In many of the violin recitals I’ve heard in the Philharmonic this past year, it seemed as if the violinist was intent on explaining or presenting the music to the audience. Each note seemed to reiterate the sentiment “Here I am, and this is what I think of this piece of music.” In Vengerov’s Wednesday recital, this element of personal announcement was almost entirely missing. He approached the pieces as if his only purpose was to explore their potentials for beautiful sound, an approach which also saved the admittedly kitschy encores from being too self-aware. His Meditation from Thais, a piece which I loved when I was ten and then rejected after I discovered irony, was a pure delight.

Lilya Zilberstein provided an adequate accompaniment for the recital, but unfortunately it was just that—accompaniment. With the exception of the Mozart Adagio, the pieces in the program were conceived as duets between violin and piano, with each instrument playing an equal role. Though Zilberstein has excellent technique and good tone, she seemed unengaged, which made her an unbalanced partner for the enthusiastic and intense Vengerov.

All the pieces on the program were excellently performed, and with an impressive variety in interpretation. The highlight, however, was definitely the Prokofiev, which Vengerov approached with a wonderful mix of intensity and delicacy. In contrast to the sweet and peaceful Mozart, the Prokofiev shone with a variety of moods and Zilberstein was also at her best in this sonata. The Shostakovich preludes, which ended the program, were very cleverly executed, with each subtle joke receiving a perfect musical delivery.

Anicia Timberlake is a violist, musicologist, and teacher from California who is currently living in Berlin.