One night last week, under a bright quarter moon, Manhattan music fans gathered for the season's first outdoor concert at Lewisohn Stadium. A stocky, apple-cheeked woman, violin in hand, marched to the center of the stage, nodded confidently to the conductor.
She had a little trouble at first: besides the roar of planes and auto traffic that plagues all stadium concerts, she got too close to the mike, which turned her tone into a shrill whine. But midway through Tchaikovsky's Concerto in D, audience and critics alike knew they were listening to as powerful and fiery fiddling as they had heard...
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