Elisabeth Batiashvili is rapidly emerging as one of the most exciting violinists of her generation, attracting widespread attention since gaining second prize in the 1995 Sibelius Competition, aged just 16. Her Hallé debut, partnering Osmo Vanska in Beethoven's Violin Concerto, gave Manchester audiences a chance to hear a repeat of her acclaimed performance at last year's Proms. At 21, her supreme technical mastery of Beethoven's Concerto is enviable; but that is not what makes her special. Technique is overlaid with a musical authority that is both distinctive and commanding.
The Beethoven Concerto is one of the most lyrical in the repertoire, with long stretches of haunting stillness that require careful handling if they are not to drag. But Batiashvili was in no hurry: each phrase was lingered over with loving care, as though she had all the time in the world. Arguably, the larghetto is not well served by this approach: some momentum is inevitably lost.
Perversely, to apply rubato so consistently also robs this movement of its timeless, static quality. In Batiashvili's hands, it became a kind of recitative-fantasia, both spellbinding and touching.
To respond to every nuance as the Hallé did takes extraordinary flexibility. There was no lingering in the usually light-hearted finale, though. Its whimsical humour was replaced by something far more elemental; at the end of a breathtakingly virtuosic performance, the audience erupted.
Two of Jean Sibelius's Lemminkainen Legends remained unpublished until 1954; in the meantime, the second of the cycle, The Swan of Tuonela, and the final movement, Lemminkainen's Return, became established repertoire. It is easy to see why the third, Lemminkainen in Tuonela, was not able to flourish independently: it is dark and so tightly woven that it appears almost monothematic. But the exotic first movement, depicting the maidens of Saari, is self-contained and colourful.
Together, the four legends constitute an epic narrative of love, enchantment, death and rebirth almost symphonic in scale. The Hallé's performance of the third and final movements bristled with nervous energy under Vanska's fast tempi; the eerie melancholy of the second movement was mesmerisingly captured in Tom Davey's haunting cor anglais solo.
