Menuhin’s radiance is tangible to anyone near him, but also to those who crowd the furthest row of a concert hall. The fineness of his features, the economy and elegance of gesture which surround his performance are important, of course. But the force lies much deeper. Menuhin has made the music he produces a total expression and embodiment of being. To hear him play the Bartók Solo Sonata (which he commissioned) or the Elgar Concerto, even at a distance or on a worn record, is to be asked, in a peculiarly intimate, directly focused way, into his complete presence. It is a presence that seems to encounter the world and oneself with a sovereign courtesy of heart. << less