Five stars: I honestly believe this is one of the major violin concertos of our time. Unmissable.

 GRIME Violin Concerto.  Malin Broman (vn); Daniel Harding, cond; Swedish RSO  OUR RECORDINGS 9.70867 (22:40) iive: Berwaldhallen, Stockholm, 12,15,2016. Reviewed from an MP3 download, 44.1 kHz, 16-bit.

There is a surprisingly small amount of the music of Helen Grime reviewed on the Fanfare Archive: the short Arachne on a New Focus disc (Fanfare 47:6), 3 Miniatures on a Champs Hill release (40:3), the song Bright Travellers on a disc featuing Ruby Hughes (BIS, 45:4), Elegiac Impressions (47:4), Fanfares (43:4, a Rattle celebration on LSO Live), Ten Miniatures on Genuin (46:5) 3 Whistler Miniatures (47:5) and choral music for Advent (48:2). That's it, and a lot of those are short works in multi-composer discs. And yet Grime's voice is important. The force of her music is acknowledged in the UK (she was featured at the Sheffield Chamber Music Festival in 2022, including a round table and performance of Whisler Miniatures and Aviary Sketches).
Good to see her on OUR, then, in a characteristically superb recording. Malin Broman (inteviewed above) appears in a dynamic and sympathetic pairing wih Daniel Harding, whose attention to detail shines through all of this performance. Broman is a force of nature, too.
The piece is directly linked to Broman, so this recording holds particular documentary importance. There are three movements, and tempo indications are eschewed for metronome makings. The first immediately pits orchestra (an upward rush) against furious solo violin triplets, fortissimo, marcato, the beats accented, the first beat of the measure gaining extra heft via an sfz. Something of a romantic idea, then, of heroic opposition, couched in the music of our time. Broman is every inch the orchestra's equal, bold in her declamation. The winds' upward rush seems to initiate the violin's triplets over and over, against a sea of calm in sustained stings. It is only when the solo violin starts to make the rhythm dance that a way forward is hinted at. The solo writing is fiercely difficult, and Broman is her own heroine in presenting the part with such authority. Eventually, wind and strings dance too (albeit against punctuating percussion thwacks) The result? Reflective introspection for the first time from the solo, and Broman creates such beauty here. Dismissed these musical thoughts may be by the orchestra, but they live on in the memory of the listener. Broman has a way with making Grime's disjunct melodies sing; she can meld her tone, too, with high-pitched percussion, a remarkable effect. There is a marked cadenza, beginning fff and molto pesante, the prevailing triplets lunching a violin tirade in which upper-voice wails counterpoint a D-natural pedal (also in the solo part). This is an accompanied cadenza, or rather many cadenzas (the title appears several times in the score); the soloist never quite gains independence. And, after the initial cadenza, the orchestra's own (much lower) pedal takes on added significance, rooting the violin in a way that instrument itself cannot; and, in stating the lowest notes, emphasizing the heady stratosphere of much of Grimes' writing above.
Grimes moves through to the second movement without a break. Sul tasto strings and almost inaudible oscillating flutes accompany the violin's musings, ever seeking, ever exploratory. Now wind and solo violin echo each other rather than act in opposition; again, there is that juxtaposing of extreme high and low, but now the slowly evolving bass melody seems almost reassuring rather than threatening. There is huge beauty here, and Grime could not ask for a better performance. The razor precision of the first movement is here too, the atmosphere different but, follow the score, and the dovetailing’s are all faultless. Again, there is a romantic reference in the low solo violin melody (from such it is); plus, the idea of the solo violin as Romanic wanderer seems to be part of the fabric. Again, there is the feeling of a cadenza; and again, upward rushes (somewhat tamed now) predominate. Gesture is important to Grimes, and how she articulates her structure so well, with the utmost confidence. Malin and Harding convince us that Grime's score is a perfect diamond, including not one note too many.
An accelerando (both via indication and notation) leads into the finale, which opens with the most remarkable solo violin, well, riff. It leads to a woodwind passage so aerial it is almost avian (and so reminded me of the Britten Violin Concerto) Again this, the solo seems to try to reassert its lyrical side, but that low orchestra pedal is once more in undermining mode. As in the first movement, there are repeated gestures, now urgent. A brass chorale (somewhat deconstructed) seems to propel the music forwards; Broman is asked to perform remarkable feats of virtuosity; all the while couched in Grime's gloriously colourful orchestration. The music seems to move higher and higher in pitch until it is stretched to is limit; only the brass chorale can break it. All credit, too, to the Swedish RSO's brass and, indeed, one screaming trumpet.
There is no defined end in the traditional sense; and so, the close is a massive challenge to the soloist/conductor bond, here absolutely impeccable. It is remarkable to think this is a live performance; such is he accuracy; and yet we hear that concert hall element in the undeniable frisson throughout.
I honestly believe this is one of the major violin concertos of our time. How lucky we are to have Helen Grime to create this; and how lucky she, and we, are to have such world-class interpreters. Unmissable. Colin Clarke