There are recordings that present unknown music as a curiosity from an archive, as a footnote from a history book that happened to be unearthed again. And there are recordings that make you realize that music history encompasses a far larger landscape than the names that have stuck around. Toccata Classics is among those labels that regularly bring this forgotten landscape back into view. This first installment in a series devoted to concertos from the Caucasus is more than just a collection of rare repertoire: it opens a window onto a musical world in which personal expression, national identity, and the complex reality of the Soviet cultural system were in constant dialogue with one another.
The three composers on this recording – the Georgian Aleksi Machavariani (1913–1995) and the Azerbaijanis Azər Rzayev (1930–2015) and Rauf Gadjiev (1922–1995) – enjoyed considerable recognition during their lifetimes, but largely disappeared from the international concert scene after the end of the Soviet period. This says less about the quality of their music than about the capricious mechanisms by which a musical canon is formed. Some names endure, others fade into the background, not because their music would be inferior, but because historical circumstances, political systems, and programmatic choices determine what continues to be heard.
Anyone listening to these three violin concertos will immediately notice that they are rooted in the great Russian orchestral tradition. There are echoes of Khachaturian – himself from the Caucasian cultural world – but also the lyrical breadth of Russian Romanticism and the rhythmic sharpness of Prokofiev. Yet these works are no mere imitations. Behind the familiar language, a distinct voice emerges each time: melodies that retain the cadence of folk music, rhythms in which regional traditions remain palpable, and orchestral colors that reveal a very specific geographical background.
The discovery of this recording
All three concertos follow the classical three-part structure – fast, slow, fast – but Aleksi Machavariani's 1949 violin concerto undoubtedly stands out. It is not only the longest and most elaborated work of the three, it is also the concerto in which emotional power, lyricism, and cultural distinctiveness come together most convincingly.
From the very first measures it becomes clear why Karen Bentley Pollick is such a convincing advocate for this repertoire. She does not make the violin sound like a virtuosic instrument that places itself above the orchestra, but as a human voice telling a story. In the opening section, she moves effortlessly between vulnerability and strength: her playing is lyrical and songlike when the music opens up, yet also gains sharpness and determination as the dramatic tension increases. Together with the orchestra, there is no struggle between soloist and accompaniment, but a genuine dialogue in which every musical thought gains meaning.
The Andante sostenuto then forms the emotional heart of the concerto and is undoubtedly the revelation of this disc. Here Pollick demonstrates her greatest quality: the ability to let a long melodic line breathe completely naturally. Her warm, rich tone carries the melancholy of the music, yet avoids any hint of sentimentality. The music thus takes on something like a quiet memory, a moment of reflection that slowly settles under your skin. It is precisely in these passages that you understand why this concerto should appear far more often on concert programs: the combination of melodic beauty and human expression is irresistible.
In the final section, Pollick once again displays her versatility. She gives full scope to the rhythmic energy and folk-music impulses, without reducing the work to merely folkloric color. Under her hands, this section too remains part of a larger musical narrative, in which tradition and personal expression reinforce each other.
Thanks to this interpretation, Machavariani does not appear as a historical curiosity from a forgotten Soviet past, but as a composer with a voice of his own. It is above all the way Pollick makes that voice audible again that makes this concerto the true discovery of the recording.
Refinement and a Different Folk Character
Azər Rzayev's First Violin Concerto from 1957 takes a completely different path than Machavariani's work. Where the latter unfolds broadly and builds great emotional arcs, Rzayev is more compact, more nervous, and more subtle. His music seeks less the grand gesture and more refined tensions: melodies seem to be in constant motion, as if they never quite come to rest.
Pollick knows exactly how to approach that character. She does not opt for exaggerated expression, but for a style in which small color variations and dynamic nuances carry meaning. Her violin sounds here less like a teller of grand gestures, but as an instrument that subtly creates tension and doubt. The sometimes unexpected orchestral outbursts thus gain extra effect: they do not arise as external contrasts, but as moments when the underlying tension suddenly surfaces.
Culturally too, this concerto sounds different from Machavariani's. Rzayev's Azerbaijani background has its own rhythmic and melodic sensibility, which makes the program more than a simple collection of Soviet concertos. You hear different musical worlds side by side: not one uniform Caucasian style, but composers who each develop a personal voice from their own tradition.
It is music that overwhelms less immediately than Machavariani, but precisely through its subtlety it continues to captivate. Thanks to Pollick's refined interpretation, the concerto unfolds slowly and especially rewards the listener willing to listen deeper than a first impression.
Rhythm, Color, and Stillness
Rauf Gadjiev's Violin Concerto from 1952 is of the three works on this recording the most directly connected to the musical traditions of his country. Dance rhythms, pronounced accents, and melodic turns reminiscent of the region's instrumental folk music give the concerto its own distinctive color and character.
But Gadjiev does more than merely process musical folklore. Behind the rhythmic liveliness and often energetic movement lies a surprising sensitivity. Especially in the slow section, an atmosphere of stillness and melancholy emerges, in which the violin takes on a warm, almost human glow. It is music that does not so much overwhelm through grand dramatic gestures, but convinces through atmosphere and authenticity.
Pollick senses that balance excellently. She lets the rhythmic impulses speak with fluidity and vitality, but also takes time for the more restful moments. Her warm tone gives the lyrical passages a particular intensity, making the music more than a colorful reference to a regional tradition.
Gadjiev's concerto thus grows into a valuable conclusion to the triptych: a work in which folk-music roots, personal expression, and a sense for melodic beauty come together in a natural way.
Inspired Performers
Karen Bentley Pollick is undoubtedly the driving force behind this recording. Her greatest achievement is that she treats these concertos not as historical documents, but as living music that deserves its place within the violin repertoire. Her playing unites technical mastery with warm, human expression, through which both the lyrical power and the cultural distinctiveness of these works come convincingly to the fore.
What especially stands out is her sense of character: she knows when the music should sing, when it should pull back, and when rhythmic energy should take the lead. This makes these three utterly different concertos sound not like historical curiosities, but as works with their own personality and clear force.
The Lithuanian National Symphony Orchestra under the baton of John McLaughlin Williams also does far more than merely accompany. Williams opts for a clear, transparent sound that gives the violin all the space it needs, yet never loses sight of the larger architecture of the works. His approach avoids a heavy, monumental Soviet sound and instead lays bare the colors, rhythms, and melodic lines that make this music so compelling.
In a few swift, folk-music-inspired passages, the orchestra might have displayed a bit more edge and rhythmic brilliance, but that's merely a minor quibble with a performance that convinces above all through its stylistic sensibility, commitment, and clear faith in this repertoire.
A valuable rediscovery
The recording quality superbly supports the musical approach. The sound is clear and spacious, with a natural balance between soloist and orchestra. The violin is sufficiently forward to hear the expressive details, yet always remains part of the bigger picture. The comprehensive CD booklet, which thoughtfully addresses the lives, contexts, and works of the three composers, fully lives up to Toccata Classics' reputation as a champion of forgotten repertoire.
Concertos from the Caucasus doesn't merely dust off a dry footnote from music history, but breathes new life into a lost chapter. This music didn't disappear because it lacked value, but because history sometimes listens more selectively than the music itself deserves.
Anyone who loves violin concertos where virtuosity, lyricism, and cultural identity converge shouldn't miss this first installment in the series. Above all, this recording proves that the musical map of the twentieth century still contains plenty of blank spaces. Thanks to performers like Karen Bentley Pollick, those forgotten landscapes are being colored in once again. It's worth looking forward with interest to the next installment in this series, as the Caucasus proves to harbor a far richer musical landscape than the canon usually allows us to suspect.
