Leopold Mozart, father of perhaps the greatest musical genius of all time, deserves some posthumous recognition in his own right: one of the leading violin pedagogues of his day, his treatise on violin playing is still respected. It is thus not surprising that young Wolfgang had to master the violin as well as the keyboard. But he preferred the darker-toned viola, and there are no Mozart violin concertos after 1775. 　　It has been said that the term Mozartean is synonymous with perfection, and all of Mozart's violin concertos, particularly the last three (K. 216, 218 and 219), are indeed perfect in their way (and often quite innovative). But it would be misleading to suggest that these lovely, superbly crafted works reach the emotional depths found in his later piano concertos and the one for clarinet. Nor do they give even a glimpse of the breathtakingly imaginative woodwind writing in virtually all of his concertos written after 1784. 　　The Concerto, K.218, begins with an assertive, trumpetlike theme based on the tonic triad. Brilliant passage-work and a lyrical second subject complete this first-movement textbook dichotomy typical of Classical sonata form. The Andante cantabile is just that: a tender, flowing slow movement in rapturous song style. The Rondeau begins with a courtly Andante grazioso that promptly evolves into an animated Allegro ma non troppo. As in many Mozart rondos (e.g., the finale of his K.482 piano concerto), one of the episodes is a marked digression: most often this is a minuet, but here it is a musette replete with suggestions of a bagpipe drone. 　　Heifetz made two recordings of K.218—in 1947 with Sir Thomas Beecham and in 1962, the version heard here. Stylistically this second account is somewhat larger-scaled (an impression possibly resulting from the advances of stereophonic recording); it appears, too, that Heifetz had further distilled his classical economy, using a leaner vibrato and more spartan phrasing than he did for the earlier reading (though this, too, might well be an impression deceptively conveyed by the soloist's more distant placement in the 1962 performance). 　　While the C Minor Trio is the most explosive—and, thus, characteristically Beethovenian—of the three Op.l trios with which Beethoven made his official debut as a composer, there is more than a modicum of sportiveness in the audacious writing in the E-Flat. The opening Allegro takes off like a rocket. The Adagio cantabile is both graceful and profound, particularly in its expressive alternations of major and minor tonality. The Scherzo unfolds with galloping momentum and insolent high spirits, and the Finale is a rondo full of brilliance and humor with motivic connections to the opening movement. Heifetz, Piatigorsky and Lateiner are particularly responsive to this trio's character. They performed the work in the 1962 season of the Heifetz-Piatigorsky Concerts, in San Francisco, the first season that Jacob Lateiner appeared as a guest artist in the series. 　　The Heifetz discography includes only two works by Vivaldi—a sonata, recorded in 1934, and the present concerto, in which the great violinist shared honors with Piatigorsky. Although these two virtuosos are usually thought to epitomize the Romantic performing tradition, they bring an incisive Classical rectitude to Vivaldi's imaginative rhythmic angularity and thrusting figurations. Both soloists opt for a spartan (but still polished) tone; the supporting complement of strings is of trimly modest proportions, and the harpsichord continuo is stylish. 　　Heifetz made two recordings of the Handel-Halvorsen Passacaglia, the first in 1941 with violist William Primrose; in the recording included here the cello proves as well suited to the part as the viola. 　　—Harris Goldsmith