(…) The pianist Jenő Jandó is this year giving a series of concerts to mark his fiftieth birthday (although is he giving or receiving this present?). He is playing in solo concerts, as well as chamber and orchestral performances. Unless I am mistaken, a Hungarian performing artist has never before been given such a fiftieth birthday present. I am curious to know whether Zoltán Kocsis, himself about to turn fifty, will also deserve such an honour.
The National Philharmonic Orchestra greeted this fine pianist by accompanying him in chamber music. Jandó elected to perform the piano part of Beethoven's Triple Concerto. If he had been able to choose his partners, he could have selected some middling players to enable himself to shine. But he was not interested in a cheap success, he needed the finest players, and was rewarded with Perényi and Szabadi. Rather than fitful sparks, they gave birth to true magic at the Music Academy. Beethoven gives every important initiative in the concerto to the cellist. Miklós Perényi, on the border of dream and wakening, played with an intensity that cannot be described in words, as he always does. And how he deserved Vilmos Szabadi's fiery abandon. The piano part, which is none too gratifying, has a role integrating the other soloists. He was less personal than Perényi, not as “hot” as the violinist, but he played with classical poise, and “sat” like a statue of reliability. Three different temperaments, a miraculous Beethoven.
The orchestra's role in the Triple Concerto is not showy, but potentially fragile. This latter was not apparent, guaranteed by Zsolt Hamar's steady hand and his equally secure musicianship. As the orchestra's “second man” (behind Kocsis), he also bears responsibility for the creation of the ensemble's manicured sound.
In Weber's Oberon overture, the titular magic horn sounded from both close and afar (this latter by a delicate clarinet) in a rounded, solid, beautiful sound. It was a joy to hear the bass strings playing with such a homogenous, crystal clear, precise rhythm, as well as the free singing, playfulness and groomed elegance of the violins. This is primarily of course both a question of character and also technique. The interpretation of Brahm's Third Symphony was a compliment to Zsolt Hamar's rare sense of form and expressive power. The volcanic eruptions and repressed emotion in the outer movement; the coy sensuality deriving from the simple melody in the slow movement, and the melancholy of the scherzo, far removed from a dance form, all became an apprehensible reality. The conductor undertook the intimate unfolding of Brahms's characteristic intonation, and the National Philharmonic Orchestra willingly followed him in song.

János Breuer
(Népszabadság, March 13th 2002.)