Herman Krebbers studied violin at Amsterdam’s Muzieklyceum Conservatory with Oskar Back (a pupil of Ysaÿe and Thomson) and later taught there himself, as well as at the Robert Schumann Institute, Düsseldorf. Franz Peter Zimmerman is amongst his more renowned students. A boating accident in 1979 brought Krebbers’s performing career to a halt; he has since concentrated on teaching and judging at international violin competitions (including the Queen Elisabeth, Sibelius, and Flesch). He was able to play again after a long rehabilitation, but although some judged him better than before, he chose to avoid the public stage.

In many ways Krebbers’s playing is very similar to that of his lifelong friend and colleague, Theo Olof. Both have an intense sound, well-modulated vibrato (continuous but never intrusive) and a carefully considered approach. Olof’s recordings seem somehow more charismatic, but the differences are relatively slight and comparison of their respective recordings of Beethoven’s Romances bears this out. Their 1952 version of Bach’s Double Concerto is thus intriguingly well-matched in sound, although the whole enterprise is somewhat unexciting.

Krebbers’s Beethoven Concerto under Haitink from 1974 is typical of its time: tidy, well-disciplined, respectful, but a little objective; a worthy performance, certainly, but not the most charismatic. Kreisler’s cadenza is played with considerable precision but again fails to excite. The minor theme of the finale suggests one of Krebbers’s few distinguishing features—not a particularly endearing one—the practice of slightly separating notes within a legato (often referred to as the ‘Menuhin slur’). Similar characteristics define his Beethoven Romance in F. More colour can be found in his 1962 performance of Saint-Saëns’s Danse Macabre, Krebbers embracing the fun of this entertaining piece in his violin solos.

In my view his most interesting recording is a youthful 1943 live radio performance of Brahms’s Concerto under Mengelberg. Krebbers uses, as did many at that time, some portamento (largely avoided in all later recordings here) and there is a more consciously fiery temperament evidenced at the opening and a little tempo rubato. Whether this is attributable to Krebbers or Mengelberg is of course impossible to ascertain. The slow movement is occasionally characterised by some slightly incongruous portamenti, and rubato of the modern type (expressive slowing down). The finale sounds rather laboured and has far more than its fair share of mishaps, but this performance does have some definable personality of a kind otherwise sadly lacking from Krebbers’s later recordings.

© Naxos Rights International Ltd. — David Milsom (A–Z of String Players, Naxos 8.558081-84)