This is not, in other words, just another able fiddler. His technique is complete, featuring exceptional command of the bow and keen sensitivity to tempo and style. The nature of sound he produces varies to fit the needs of a given composer. He's like a virtuoso actor adjusting to many roles. Each piece of the evening featured a different approach — even the dreamy encore after the other more heroic Beethoven which preceded it.

Suite Italienne, drawn from the ballet Pulcinella, presents Stravinsky as clown. The fact that the ballet is drawn from Pergolesi scores hardly counts, considering what Stravinsky did with the materials. (As it turns out, not all the sources are authentic Pergolesi.) The score is so impish that its character seems more comedic than dances can hope to portray, a common occurrence with Stravinsky's ballet scores.

Kavakos' performance hit the right character, brimming with verve. He used a light bow pressure with modest vibrato to project the impression of fine Mediterranean string style, recalling that of Italian violinists like Salvatore Accardo: suave in its brilliance, rich but with a touch of tart in the timbre.

That all shifted with the first tones of the neglected Schumann Sonata. Kavakos suddenly sounded darker and more smoldering. I cannot remember ever hearing this sonata sound so emotionally gripping. It has always impressed me as one of Schumann's few works colored by the same tragic element found in his finest Lieder. Again and again, Kavakos' performance confirmed this as an important masterpiece.

Debussy's Sonata again opened up into a new light but highly focused way of playing, very French in character. Kavakos' adjustments also allowed for more freedom of phrasing. Whereas the music was generally in tempo before — and would be again for Beethoven — now there were little rhapsodic gestures in the melody to bring forward Debussy's fancies. All in all, this was again an outstanding service to the composer.

The treatment of the Beethoven lifted the music into the kingdom of the fully mature Beethoven. Kavakos played with the big heroic style normally reserved for the more famous “Kreutzer” Sonata. On the other hand, he employed major contrasts for the inner movement. The slow movement sounded a bit flavored by Brahms, while the Scherzo pointed a finger at Mendelssohn — and perhaps, Berlioz. That's certainly original, but fine. The result was excellent in totality and seemed right on the mark.

One has also to note the superb pianism of Skanavi. She is actually Russian, in spite of her family name, which came from her Greek grandfather. If the name rings a distant bell, you've likely seen her in that TV documentary on the Van Cliburn competition, or were lucky enough to hear her here last year.

Complete in technique, with a major background in chamber music as well as solo performance, Skanavi stuck to Kavakos like the proverbial shadow. In places such as the whirligig Tarantella of the Stravinsky, their flawless precision was almost eerie. Balances also struck me as perfect. Skanavi was neither overly assertive nor at all timid, as the moment required. Violinists do not often have the luxury of so fine a partner. The whole evening was splendid. Both artists deserve to be regulars on the local scene, for their intelligence as must as their technical achievement.