Old World Fiddler

The dapper little man with the impassive face stood alone on the stage of Manhattan's Carnegie Hall fiddling his way through the tortuous technical complexities of his own "Paganiniana" Variations. While a wisp of broken horsehair from his bow floated around his head, he dazzled his listeners with a performance full of flashing colors, amazing fluctuations in volume and, on occasion, blazing speed. Then, after peeling the shredded hair from his bow and shooting the cuffs of his immaculate dress shirt, he launched into the quieter strains of Ernest Bloch's familiar violin war horse Nigun (from Baal Shem), shaping an interpretation that was sweet but not sugary, both poignant and filled with an old world charm.

It was 30 years almost to the day since Nathan Milstein made his New York debut. Now 55, he belongs to the tradition of such great Russian-Jewish violinists as Jascha Heifetz, Mischa Elman, Efrem Zimbalist, all of whom were, like Milstein, trained by the late great Leopold Auer. In the generation that has passed since Milstein first appeared on the U.S. musical scene, he has transformed himself without fanfare from a dazzling virtuoso to a mature master, not only of bravura composers such as Max Bruch and Sarasate, but of Brahms, Beethoven and Bach. Little interested in contemporary music ("I am not a pioneer; perhaps my taste is bad"), he has won a vast audience to his sensitive readings of the classics.

Son of a wealthy Russian wool importer, Milstein was guided into a virtuoso's career by his ambitious mother, freely admits that he was unenthusiastic about the violin until he was 16 and began to give public recitals. In 1925 he left Russia for Western Europe with his lifelong friend, Pianist Vladimir Horowitz.

Milstein now plays about 80 times a year on a U.S.-and-European schedule that is complicated by his adamant refusal to step into an airplane. A collector of fine paintings and a fancier of the good life ("There is no use to spend money unless it is for the best"), Milstein is not sure even now that he would repeat his career in music if he had it to do all over again. "In Russia," he explains ironically, "life is so dreary there is nothing to distract. But here my daughter has television, she has skiing--why music?"

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