From the New York Philharmonic's in-house label come three separate and distinct albums of orchestral fare that highlights the trumpet, including eleven complete concertos, all featuring the orchestra's longstanding and recently retired principal trumpet chair, Phillip Smith, in performances stretching across the more than thirty years this most distinguished and honored musician occupied the position, 1979-2013. Album 1, available on CD and digital download, is a 21-track offering that boasts highlights from four of Gustav Mahler's nine symphonies, as well as works by Bernstein, Copland, Stravinsky, Ives, Bach, and others, in whole or on part. Album 1 also includes a 32-page booklet containing photos, notes and essays. Albums 2 & 3, available as digital downloads only, boast complete concertos by Vivaldi, Molter, Haydn and Zwilich, among several other important trumpet-centric concerted works. "For the past 36 years, Philip Smith has presided over orchestral trumpet playing, with a resonant, clarion sound and a reputation for never missing a note." (The New Yorker)

Germany’s oldest Mozart festival celebrates its 100th anniversary in 2021. The present jubilee boxed set presents previously unpublished treasures from the archive of the Bavarian Broadcasting. All live recordings from the Baroque Imperial Hall at Würzburg Residence are digital remasters.

PLEASE NOTE: PURCHASE OF THIS CD INCLUDES THE FOLLOWING WORKS:

Bruch, Violin Concerto No. 1 (Maazel)
Bartók, Violin Concerto No. 1 (Gilbert)
Korngold, Violin Concerto (Robertson)
Williams, Theme from Schindler’s List (Williams)

PURCHASE OF THE MP3 ALSO INCLUDES THE FOLLOWING WORKS (not available on CD):

Album 2
Kernis, Lament and Prayer (Maazel)
Bernstein, Serenade (Bernstein)
Barber, Violin Concerto (Masur)
Waxman, Carmen Fantasie (Mehta)

Album 3
Prokofiev, Violin Concerto No. 2 (Mehta)
Szymanowski, Violin Concerto No. 1 (Masur)
Shostakovich, Violin Concerto, No. 1 (Shostakovich)

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The New York Philharmonic is saluting Concertmaster Glenn Dicterow — who is leaving the Orchestra after 34 years, the longest tenure of any concertmaster in Philharmonic history — with New York Philharmonic Presents: The Glenn Dicterow Collection. The three albums feature Mr. Dicterow’s favorite concerto performances.

The first album is available on CD, which comes with a 90-page commemorative booklet that includes program notes with Mr. Dicterow's commentary, essays about Mr. Dicterow by Music Director Alan Gilbert and Archivist/Historian Barbara Haws, photographs, and a complete list of the Concertmaster’s solo performances.

Drawn from the worldwide catalog holdings of Sony Classical, which includes both the Columbia/CBS and RCA Victor label imprints, the SONY Classical Originals, SONY Classical Masters Singles and Box Sets, and SONY Opera House series offer an extensive selection of highly desirable and collectible EU (Germany) pressed import editions, smartly-designed and graphically-pleasing, featuring the most sought-after recordings by the world’s preeminent, legendary artists both past and present, with many titles newly re-mastered in 24bit High Resolution Audio.

THE ART OF ARTHUR GRUMIAUX • Arthur Grumiaux (vn); Frieder Weissmann 1 , Lorin Maazel 2 , Hans Müller-Kray 3 , Bernhard Paumgartner 4 , Carlo Maria Giulini 6 , Ernest Ansermet 8 , Ernest Bour 10 , cond; Riccardo Castagnone 5 , Hans Altmann 7 (pn); Hermann von Beckerath (vc); 9 RAI SO of Turin; 1 Cologne RSO; 2 South German RSO; 3 Mozarteum O; 4 Frankfurt RSO; 6 O de la Suisse Romande; 8 Bavarian RSO 10 • ANDROMEDA 9116, mono (4 CDs: 266:57) Live: Turin, Cologne, Mühlacker, Salzburg, Frankfurt, Munich 1951–62


MOZART 1 Violin Concerto No. 1 2 Violin Concerto No. 3. 3 Violin Concerto No. 4. 4 Violin Concerto No. 5. MENDELSSOHN 6 Violin Concerto in e. SCHUBERT 5 Violin Sonata in A. FRANCK 7 Violin Sonata in A. BRAHMS 8 Violin Concerto. CHAUSSON 1 Poème for Violin and Orchestra. RAVEL 9 Sonata for Violin and Cello. 1 Tzigane. STRAVINSKY 10 Violin Concerto. YSAŸE Sonata for Violin Solo, Ballade in d


Belgian violinist Arthur Grumiaux (1921–1986) was a fixture of the concert and recording scene when I was growing up. His playing was impeccably clean in style, utilizing a very narrow vibrato that gave his tone a lean yet shimmering sound, very little portamento, and enlivening inflections that provided a nice rhythmic “lift” to his performances. As this set clearly shows, his proclivities were, for the most part, towards Classical and Romantic composers, though he did play the Stravinsky and Berg concertos and Ravel sonata. According to Wikipedia, he made roughly 30 albums during his active career, mostly for the Dutch Philips label but also for EMI. He was, it seems, one of those violinists, like Nathan Milstein, who was admired as much if not more by his peers than by the general public, though of course he was always a top draw in concerts.


Since Grumiaux played most of these works so often (particularly the Mozart concertos, which he recorded complete for Philips with Colin Davis in 1961–62), there are several alternate performances of many of these pieces floating around; e.g., the Mozart No. 1 with Paumgartner and Nos. 3 and 4 with Moralt (the Concerto No. 5 with Paumgartner is on this set), the Mendelssohn Concerto with a very young Haitink, the Brahms with van Beinum, etc. The cover of this set announces that these live performances are all newly remastered in 24-bit/96 kHz sound.


I was particularly fascinated by his interpretation of the Schubert sonata: crisp, direct, and completely lacking in sentimentality, much like Toscanini’s performances of the Schubert symphonies. This is a performance that will thrill musically scrupulous listeners but not at all those who insist that their Schubert be full of Viennese schmaltz. Grumiaux’s version of the Mendelssohn Concerto is quite excellent as well, with surprisingly brisk conducting by Giulini; nothing is rushed, all the notes “sound” with perfect equipoise, yet there is tremendous élan in this reading (and sensitivity, too, relaxing the tempo here and there and playing an absolutely ethereal first-movement cadenza). Because he was Belgian, Grumiaux was sometimes compared to his great predecessor Ysaÿe, but to my ears his sweet, lean tone had much more in common with Sarasate than with Ysaÿe’s somewhat darker sound. As a matter of fact, I felt that Grumiaux’s lean sonority and objectivist approach didn’t work for me in the Franck Sonata or Brahms Concerto, the only performances on the set that I found too uninvolved. I was, however, fascinated by the way he played Ravel, which (as it turns out) was much like his Stravinsky: lean, angular contours, no sentimentality at all, and a way of bringing out the structure without unduly overstressing it. Indeed, the entire last CD was a gem from start to finish.


Your proclivity to acquire this set will probably have as much to do with your desire to own every note Grumiaux ever recorded if you already have most of the studio versions, especially since we are dealing here with monophonic radio sound of varying quality (rather dry in the Turin broadcasts, somewhat roomier and warmer in the German airchecks), particularly since this set is selling for the somewhat hefty price of $52 on Amazon. However, I can attest that Andromeda did a whale of a job cleaning up the sound so that everything sounds clear without the least bit of distortion, particularly in the sound of the string sections of each orchestra, and there is no question that Grumiaux is interesting to hear from start to finish.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

"[T]he first three symphonies are treated to exuberant readings, with lots of Haydnesque brio, except in the slow movements, where Schubert’s lyricism comes to the fore. Maazel and company change gears very comfortably, shifting in the Second Symphony from the boisterous ebullience of the first movement to the tender naïveté of the following Andante. And back again, in the propulsive Menuetto and Presto vivace finale. I’m happy that my favorite among the first six, No. 3, receives a model performance, from the hushed, feathery violin figures in the Adagio maestoso introduction to the breakneck Presto vivace finale. Maazel makes all the right moves as far as I’m concerned, and I’m as happy with this performance as with any on disc...

Schubert’s last two symphonies, with their grander gestures and grander orchestral palette, actually sound just a bit small-scale in these performances, and I think that reflects an interpretive trend rather than any outright lack on the part of conductor or orchestra. Basically, these are excellent readings, fully idiomatic, without an ounce of extraneous rubato or other grandstanding gestures that conductors often impose on this music, especially the Great C Major. The comparative lightness of texture in Maazel’s interpretation recalls recent performances I’ve heard by the likes of the Northern Sinfonia under Thomas Zehetmair (Avie) and the Budapest Festival Orchestra under Ivan Fischer (Channel Classics). A far cry from one of my favorites of another era, Georg Solti leading a hefty Vienna Philharmonic (Decca). Both approaches seem valid to me. Certainly, Maazel brings great nobility to this score; the sense of momentum with which he invests the last movement makes this the worthy high point of the set.

The Bavarian orchestra plays with expected fervor but with great discipline as well; in fact, you could be forgiven if in a blind test you thought these performances were set down in a studio—at least before you heard the applause at the end of each symphony. And except for the usual balance problem here and there, the recordings are quite good. There are a number of fine recordings of the eight Schubert symphonies available; I now count Maazel’s among them.

—Lee Passarella, Audiophile Audition

The Orchestre National de France celebrates eighty years of historic concerts and illustrious performers with this specially-priced eight disc boxed set. Presented by Radio France in collaboration with the Institut National de L'audiovisuel, this valuable memento contains ten hours of superb live broadcasts and stage performances meticulously restored and remastered in high resolution from previously unreleased radio archives.

Classical Music

Mahler: Symphony No. 5

Reviews of individual volumes from this series:

Mahler: Symphonies Nos 1, 2 & 3 / Maazel, Philharmonia Orchestra

A willful First, a splendid Second, and an incandescent Third. Make no mistake, for all his faults - perceived or otherwise - Maazel is a Mahlerian of considerable consequence.

– MusicWeb International

Mahler: Symphonies Nos 4, 5 & 6 / Maazel, Philharmonia Orchestra

Throughout all three symphonies the playing of the Philharmonia is razor sharp and idiomatic: they’re consistently on top form for Maazel. The recorded sound is very good as are Julian Johnson’s notes.

– MusicWeb International

Reviews of individual volumes from this series:

Mahler: Symphonies Nos 7, 8 & 9 / Maazel, Philharmonia Orchestra

A Seventh that is unfortunately not competitive with the best available versions, coupled with a superb Eighth and Ninth.

– MusicWeb International

TCHAIKOVSKY Violin Concerto 1. BARTÓK Violin Concerto No. 2 2 • Isaac Stern (vn); 1 Lorin Maazel, cond; 2 Ernest Ansermet, cond; Swiss Festival O • AUDITE 95624 (69:37) Live: Lucerne 1 8/23/1958; 2 8/18/1956


This release is of particular interest to me, for as one who was born, raised, and lived most of my life in San Francisco, I probably saw and heard Isaac Stern perform live in concert and recital more times than any other single artist. That, of course, was because of Stern’s close ties to the city in which he grew up and studied violin under Louis Persinger, one-time teacher of Menuhin, and with Naoum Blinder, the San Francisco Symphony’s then concertmaster. In 1936, Stern made his debut with the orchestra under the baton of Pierre Monteux, and though he would soon leave San Francisco to pursue a career as one of the world’s most recognized and sought-after violin virtuosos, he returned often to the city that had nurtured him to appear with the orchestra and in recital with his long-time accompanist, Alexander Zakin.


In 1945, Stern signed a recording contract with Columbia, an association that lasted uninterrupted for 40 years, one of the longest such artist/record company alliances in history. And during those years, Stern joined forces with famous conductors, orchestras, and chamber musicians to record the entire mainstream violin concerto and chamber music repertoire, and beyond, often more than once. If you grew up in the 1950s and began collecting records in junior high and high school, as I did, the chances are you grew up with Isaac Stern spinning on your turntables. He was Columbia’s intended rival to RCA’s Heifetz, and I readily admit that I learned much of the violin literature from Stern’s recordings before I discovered those by other celebrated artists.


These versions of the Tchaikovsky and Bartók concertos—let it be stipulated that we are dealing with Bartók’s Violin Concerto No. 2, the more famous one, so it needn’t be repeated on each subsequent reference—are not only previously unreleased, they’re claimed to be quite rare, as Stern was seldom recorded live. A 1959 Brahms Concerto with Monteux and the Boston Symphony at Tanglewood was captured live and released by West Hill Radio Archives, which, I presume is still available since it was reviewed by Richard Kaplan as recently as 35:3. But that was the Brahms, not the Tchaikovsky or the Bartók; and while Stern revisited the Tchaikovsky on a number of occasions with different conductors and orchestras, his track record with the Bartók, as far as I know, is limited to his one and only other version, a commercial studio recording he made two years after this one, in 1958, with Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic. That, of course, makes this Audite release all the more valuable.


Of the Tchaikovsky—not counting this live performance—there are four others I’m aware of: (1) a 1949 recording with Alexander Hilsberg and the Philadelphia Orchestra; (2) a 1958 recording with the same orchestra under Eugene Ormandy, released in both mono (ML 5379) and stereo (MS 6062) and originally coupled with the Mendelssohn Concerto, but reissued a number of times in various sets and singles, including one coupled with the Sibelius Concerto; (3) a 1973 recording with Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic; and (4) the violinist’s last, a 1978 recording with Rostropovich and the National Symphony Orchestra.


Let me deal with the Bartók first, since there’s only one other Stern version to compare it to, the aforementioned studio recording with Bernstein. Before proceeding, however, I need to voice a disclaimer. I’ve had Stern’s Bartók with Bernstein on LP for longer than I can remember, but I haven’t dusted it off and listened to it in ages because, frankly, I never liked it. The reason goes back to my opening paragraph, where I reminisce about seeing and hearing Stern live on numerous occasions in San Francisco, though never in the Bartók.


It was around that same time, however, that another San Francisco-bred violinist, who also returned regularly to the city to play with the orchestra, appeared in 1957 to perform the Bartók. I’m referring, of course, to Yehudi Menuhin, and that was my very first time hearing the Bartók. It made a deep and lasting impression on me.


In that same year, Menuhin made his classic recording of the piece with Antal Doráti and the Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra, which was released on a Mercury Living Presence LP, and which I promptly acquired and haven’t parted with since. Menuhin had a special affinity for the piece—he’d recorded it four years earlier for EMI with Furtwängler and the Philharmonia Orchestra—and I found his reading of it not only more idiomatic than Stern’s but more rapturous. Nothing in Stern’s performance transported me the way those magical moments did towards the end of the second movement in Menuhin’s recording with Doráti.


Stern, of course, didn’t suffer the deterioration in bowing that was already quite evident in Menuhin’s playing by 1957, but it may have been because of that, rather than in spite of it, that Menuhin’s performances took on a sense of vulnerability which made them all the more moving. Stern’s live Bartók under Ansermet in 1956 on the present CD is markedly different than his studio Bartók under Bernstein in 1958, and in some ways I like it better. At first glance, as you can see from the timings below, there’s an overall difference of only 16 seconds between Stern/Ansermet and Stern/Bernstein, which would suggest that despite different conductors, Stern’s view of the work hasn’t changed.

Stern/Ansermet (1956)	Menuhin/Doráti (1957)	Stern/Bernstein (1958)
15:39	15:30	16:22
9:47	9:08	10:01
11:33	11:08	10:52
36:59	35:46	37:15

But a closer look at the timings of the individual movements tells a different story. Under Bernstein, the first movement is almost a minute slower, which is just enough to make it sound a bit slack and lacking in thrust. Compare Stern/Ansermet to Menuhin/Doráti; they’re much closer, with Menuhin being only nine seconds faster. But tempo aside, in both cases, they project the music with a greater febrile intensity. Similarly, in the second movement, though Stern/Bernstein isn’t much slower than Stern/Ansermet, it loses even more of a sense of momentum under Bernstein, and considerably so compared to Menuhin/Doráti.


I think it’s in the last movement, though, that there’s a more serious interpretive misconstruing of the score under Bernstein. Bartók, as is well known, was intrigued by formal symmetry and proportional balance; many of his works exhibit both micro and macro mirroring structures, such as arch forms. The Violin Concerto is no different. The second movement is a set of variations, while the third movement is a variation on the material presented in the first movement. Therefore, it’s important for a performance to present the Finale in a way that reflects the tempos and thematic connections to the first movement. Stern/Ansermet and Menuhin/Doráti manage that better, in my opinion, than does Stern/Bernstein.


It wasn’t until receiving Stern’s previously unreleased Bartók that I was able to make this three-way comparison, and it reinforced for me my general lack of appreciation for the Stern/Bernstein version. Of course, one could make many other comparisons as well, for Bartók’s Concerto has been quite lucky on record. There are superb performances by Henryk Szeryng with Bernard Haitink and the Concertgebouw (another favorite of mine, next to Menuhin), Gil Shaham with Boulez and the Chicago Symphony, and for something more recent, a recording by James Ehnes with Gianandrea Noseda and the BBC Philharmonic on Chandos.


I’ve limited my comparisons to the above three because of their proximal dates, because of the San Francisco connection (both Stern and Menuhin coming of age there, and my hearing the Concerto for the first time performed there by Menuhin), and because Menuhin had a special association with the piece, though he was not the first violinist to play it. Zoltán Székely gave the premiere with Mengelberg and the Concertgebouw in 1939, while Tossy Spivakovsky gave the American premiere in 1943 with Artur Rodzi?ski and the Cleveland Orchestra.


Stern’s Bartók with Ansermet is a fine one, and preferable, I think, to his effort with Bernstein. When it comes to the Tchaikovsky Concerto on this disc, there isn’t much to say. Something that can be said of Stern is that he was a remarkably reliable, even-tempered player. He wasn’t an artist prone to either spontaneous white-hot inspiration or to having off days. When you bought a ticket to a Stern concert or a new Stern recording, you knew in advance what you were going to get, and what you got was never less than good, solid, professional musicianship of a very high caliber.


Frankly, I hear little difference between this 1958 Tchaikovsky with Maazel and the violinist’s studio recording with Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra that same year. If there are any differences worth noting, they relate to the orchestral playing. The Swiss Festival Orchestra is an ad hoc assembly of musicians who come together annually for the Lucerne Festival. The players are all professionals, but they’re drawn from various ensembles around Switzerland and from various European orchestras. Well-rehearsed as they are, it would be disingenuous of me to say that they’re a match for the Philadelphia Orchestra in its prime under Ormandy. So, if you have the Stern/Ormandy Tchaikovsky in one or another of its various incarnations, I don’t think this one adds anything of any special merit to Stern’s recorded legacy. The Bartók, however, I believe does, so recommended to all audiences for the Bartók and to Stern fans in particular for a heretofore unpublished live performance recording of the Tchaikovsky. FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

FALLA La vida breve • Lorin Maazel, cond; Cristina Gallardo-Domâs (Salud); Jorge de León (Paco); María Luisa Corbacho (Grandmother); Felipe Bou (Uncle Sarvaor); Sandra Ferrández (Flamenco Singer); Ode la Generalitat Valenciana • C MAJOR 710708 (DVD: 81:00) Live: Valencia Palau de les Arts Reina Sofia 4/17/2010

La vida breve is a gift to stage directors and design teams. Its deliberate ambiguities—where is the action taking place; is it all meant to be considered as occurring in reality; what do you do when so much of the music is orchestral only, even in sections that feature short vocal moments?—allow considerable leeway to interpretation, more so than in most operas. And stage directors typically enjoy having that kind of control over a production. In this 2010 production, everything is tied to the young Gypsy girl, Salud. The men working the forge and the girl selling baskets are never seen, but Salud hears them, walking around a nearly empty stage with a starkly towering, mottled red backdrop. It is in effect Salud’s head, and heart. It is only when the characters directly interact with her that we know we have moved back into something resembling a realistic frame.

Stage director and set designer Giancarlo del Monaco (and yes, in case you were wondering, it is Mario’s son) is consistently clever in integrating Salud everywhere in the opera. The interlude between acts is presented as a duet danced before Salud between two figures in wealthy wedding finery: Our heroine’s intuition, or fears, at work, as she believes Paco is being unfaithful. The chorus then enters while she watches, followed by Paco and his fiancée, all of it done slowly as in a dream; a fire blazes behind a life-sized cross, in front of which a woman stands, arms extended as though crucified. She moves away from the cross, turning into a singer who in folk tradition praises the soon-to-be married couple. All of this is ambiguous, and more is to follow. The singer has a gritty, guttural voice, unattractive but compelling: Perhaps to celebrate passion at its most dangerous and impersonal—or is her voice just being perceived this way by Salud, still viewing events as though in a vision?

With so much emphasis on Salud’s internal dialog, I suspect something more final than the written ending conclusion to La vida breve—willing herself to death as a supreme insult to her former lover who has publicly denied any affair—was felt necessary at the opera’s conclusion. In del Monaco’s staging she feigns severe hurt, and as Paco approaches, reaches out her hand to grasp his, forcing her concealed dagger into it. She then thrusts herself upon the weapon, and dies. This production foregoes props, aside from chairs. The costumes are period-effective without attracting undo attention, mainly underscoring the class and wealth differences that drive Paco away from Salud with white lace against black linen.

It would take a fine singer and actress to make this conception of La vida breve work, one who was expected to be on stage the entire time, moving and reacting when she wasn’t the center of attention. Cristina Gallardo-Domâs is fortunately up to the task. The Chilean soprano’s dark chest register and soaring, lyrical top encompass the vocal requirements, and she is a strong enough actor to remain expressively in character the rest of the time for this emotionally draining role. Jorge de León acts well, too, but his bright lyric tenor is tight with pressure, and he has a regular wobble when singing above piano. María Luisa Corbacho also shows a loosening of vibrato, but that’s not unexpected as the grandmother, while Felipe Bou brings firmness of tone to his small part. Lorin Maazel plays to the score’s color, rhythmic bite, and acute dissonances. His firm tempos and solid grasp of the drama are welcome.

The camerawork is first-rate, both varying distances, and holding shots for as long as they’re important. There are no DVD extras, unless you consider trailers for other operatic DVDs (including a very strange-looking Theodora) as useful content. Subtitles are in Spanish, English, French, and German, with PCM stereo and DTS 5.1 as the sound options. The video format is 16:9. The booklet contains good cut listings and some brief, useful history on the opera, but reproduces a short synopsis that doesn’t reflect the changes (such as the ending) in the current production. This would still be a viable recommendation had the production been less considered, and the performers less able. After all, where else are you going to turn? But as good as this is, I have no hesitation in recommending it heartily.

FANFARE: Barry Brenesal

Isaac Stern's career as a solo artist, chamber musician, and much else (he led the movement to save Carnegie hall) was remarkable. These albums of his live performances are an eloquent testament to his musical insights, technical command and his gorgeous, luminous tone. Isaac Stern was born in 1920, in Krzemieniec, now in Ukraine. A year later his parents came to San Francisco. Violin lessons began at eight, with Naoum Blinder. Two years later he made his debut, playing Bach double concerto with his teacher. His Town Hall debut in 1937 was followed by a Carnegie Hall debut in 1943. He was the first American artist to tour the former Soviet Union-and as a result became a deeply respected figure there. The campaign to save Carnegie Hall began in 1960. The Six-Day War of 1967 saw his iconic performance of the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto with Leonard Bernstein on Mount Scopus. His involvement with Hollywood, which began in 1948 with his performance in Humoresque, was followed up in 1971, when he played on the soundtrack of Fiddler on the Roof. His travel to China in 1979 led to a resurgence of classical music in that country. He recorded prolifically and received countless honors and tributes. Isaac Stern passed away at the age of 81 in 2001.

Isaac Stern's career as a solo artist, chamber musician, and much else (he led the movement to save Carnegie hall) was remarkable. These albums of his live performances are an eloquent testament to his musical insights, technical command and his gorgeous, luminous tone. Isaac Stern was born in 1920, in Krzemieniec, now in Ukraine. A year later his parents came to San Francisco. Violin lessons began at eight, with Naoum Blinder. Two years later he made his debut, playing Bach double concerto with his teacher. His Town Hall debut in 1937 was followed by a Carnegie Hall debut in 1943. He was the first American artist to tour the former Soviet Union-and as a result became a deeply respected figure there. The campaign to save Carnegie Hall began in 1960. The Six-Day War of 1967 saw his iconic performance of the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto with Leonard Bernstein on Mount Scopus. His involvement with Hollywood, which began in 1948 with his performance in Humoresque, was followed up in 1971, when he played on the soundtrack of Fiddler on the Roof. His travel to China in 1979 led to a resurgence of classical music in that country. He recorded prolifically and received countless honors and tributes. Isaac Stern passed away at the age of 81 in 2001.