At the root of the lengthy missive over on Forbes is a review of Warner’s box set of Itzahk Perlman’s recordings for the EMI/Warner and Erato/Telarc labels, released to honor this great violinist of our times on his 70th birthday (in 2015). After waffling on the merit of many of these recordings and soliciting the help of the very dear Tim Page (who had not even properly convalesced then, and still gave generously of his time which took a considerable, easily underestimated amount of effort), the aim of the essay became increasingly a matter of defining the curious ambivalence with which I find myself facing Izthak Perlman’s art: An ambivalence which I might not have bothered writing about, if I had not know that I wasn’t alone in it. The full article here:
Itzhak Perlman: Mediocre Genius
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#morninglistening to everything* @PerlmanOfficial! Welcome to my home, Itzhak!#classical… http://t.co/WhBmSuBzXA pic.twitter.com/ONaRf2PiDa
— Jens F. Laurson (@ClassicalCritic) October 1, 2015
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