By Anne Midgette
Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, November 17, 2008

Think Russian violinist, think high-profile recital debut at the Kennedy Center Concert Hall, and you might think words like soaring, singing, flashy, fireworks. You probably wouldn't think smoky, subtle, nuanced and understated. But that was how the star violinist Vadim Repin began his overdue Washington recital debut, in the Debussy Violin Sonata, on Saturday afternoon.

Repin slipped into the piece as if the music were a mantle, not a vehicle, something that shaped his appearance, rather than showcasing it. The music of the first movement was as soft and raspy and prickling as cigarette smoke: quintessentially Gallic, emphasized by little Satie-like punctuations that the pianist Nikolai Lugansky -- a soloist in his own right -- added with his right hand.

In the steady stream of young, talented, technically formidable new players, it can be hard to identify the traits that make one soloist's playing stand out from another. Repin doesn't make it any easier, because his virtuosity is that of a chameleon, moving effortlessly from one role to the next. Of course, he has a sonic thumbprint: a warm, slightly throaty quality, familiar to Washington audiences from a number of NSO appearances. But on Saturday, he seemed more interested in finding out what the composers had to say than in focusing on himself.

This is an eminently musical approach, and one with a kind of intimacy, as if he were communing first with Debussy, then Stravinsky -- in the four-movement Divertimento that is a reworking of his ballet "The Fairy's Kiss" -- and finally Beethoven in an intense "Kreutzer" Sonata.

Repin can make the violin sing when he wants to: The final movement of the Debussy unfolded in shining arabesques, colored like chinoiserie. But he doesn't always want to, nor does he seem to seek technical perfection for its own sake. Instead, he strives for humanity. Lugansky was the more sober of the players, holding the music anchored and clear in the first movement of the Stravinsky, while Repin worked himself into a white frenzy above him.

The "Kreutzer" Sonata called for the two to meet more, and more closely, and it was a delight to hear Repin echo the percussive sound of the piano in the second movement with short bow strokes, or blend into a single gorgeous sound. This sonata, especially, showed that his playing centers on a coiled excitement that lies ready to grab anyone ready to look for it. But you have to come looking. Unlike the many artists who thrust every detail of their performance on their listeners, Repin needs to be met halfway.