The moral conscience of the musical nation

In the new issue of The Critic I have written an appreciation of the transcendent violinist Gidon Kremer:

… Gidon Kremer turned 75 last month without much fuss. Though he is one of the world’s most admired violinists and ensemble leaders, there was barely a birthday card from the music business, which he accuses of corruption. Nor was there much waving of flags, probably because he is a nowhere man. Latvian by birth, half-Jewish and half-German, he mostly lives out of a suitcase or, as he puts it, out of a mobile bookcase in his head. 

Quarter of a century ago he created the Kremerata Baltica with regional musicians in need of income and identity. The Kremerata plays a different menu from anyone else, much of it by local composers. It stands outside regular concert routines, and Kremer stands still further out. When you see him with the players he is always a foot apart, wearing his isolation as a badge of pride, keeping his head above the dirty compromises of an artist’s life. 

When Putin invaded Ukraine, Kremer sent me a triple concerto he had commissioned titled This too shall pass. On the whole, he shuns such cliches. “Insane people may in fact be very smart,” he tells me now in a measured message. “It is tragic if power is used for murder. These days it relates to certain politicians.”

What can music do? I ask. “Music will not save the world,” he replies, “but it can smooth the pain of all those who suffer…”

Read on here.