Violinist revisits old favourites

Cho-Liang Lin. Photo / Supplied

American violinist Cho-Liang Lin was last here four years ago, although some caught him more recently in Tim Slade's movie 4, providing the link between Vivaldi's Autumn and that season in New York.

Lin's appearance was as memorable for the round-table discussions in the local deli between the violinist and his musical colleagues, as it was for his exquisite playing of the concerto in question.

Next weekend, Lin returns for the first of the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra's subscription concerts with two 20th century masterpieces.

Friday night's Barber concerto is a favourite. "Barber wrote for the bustling American society that he was part of," says Lin. "He was looking back to postwar romantic composers, almost like an American Elgar. Not quite as old-fashioned as Elgar," he adds, obviously remembering the work's feisty finale, "but in a similar vein."

Saturday brings Prokofiev's Second Concerto, a work he has only just returned to his repertoire. "When you play a piece many times, especially when it culminates in a recording, you become exhausted. When I picked up this concerto again 10 months ago I was nervous that I could bring it to the same level where I left it off.

"Once that worry was overcome, I discovered so many more beauties. It was like getting reacquainted with a dear old friend."

Revisiting a work offers the opportunity for new approaches and interpretations, and Lin is one of the most meticulous musicians around. "Sometimes I wonder about my choice of tempi," he ponders, "or whether a transition is to my liking. I also glean new possibilities by working with other musicians and conductors. I certainly learned a lot about Brahms by playing the piano trios and quartets with Leon Fleischer. That's the great thing, nothing's ever

static. I've been on the concert circuit for about 30 years and the beauty's always there."

In 2005, Lin's lyrical account of Leonard Bernstein's Serenade was the highlight of his Auckland visit so it is little surprise that the man holds violinists such as Kreisler, Heifetz, Milstein, Oistrakh and Stern in awe.

"These men were my heroes and still are," he says, "ever since my father brought home their records. They were masters. Put on any of their recordings and, within five seconds, I could tell you who was playing. They were so distinctive."

Violinists are not so individual today, Lin worries, due in part to the breakdown of the various national schools of violin playing when Europeans and Russians emigrated to America and beyond after both world wars.

"The whole musical landscape changed," Lin explains. "And that was why I, as a 12-year-old Chinese boy living in Sydney, could study with a Hungarian teacher without going to Budapest."

Lin finds that the younger generation of violinists puts too much store on big gestures and the sound to go with them. "A violinist like Nathan Milstein did not have a particularly big sound. His style was more beguiling, it seduced you very slowly with beautiful softness. Today's violinists may have a much more powerful sound but there is less variety in texture."

Lin is noncommittal when I ask him whether his Chinese heritage has played a part in his makeup as a musician; instead, he points out the store that he puts on the Chinese virtues of humility, modesty and caring for and giving to those all around you.

Nevertheless, the recent ascendancy of figures such as Bright Sheng and Tan Dun has been a particular joy.

"In the 80s I expressed the hope that one day there might be a Chinese Bartok who would fuse traditional Chinese music and the Western concert medium into a new sound. Now composers like Bright Sheng and Tan Dun have emerged to do that and I'm absolutely delighted it happened in my lifetime."

Performance

What: The New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, with Cho-Liang Lin

Where and when: Auckland Town Hall, Friday, March 27, 6.30pm; Saturday, March 28, 8pm