In his review of the 1888 première in Vienna of Brahms's ‘Double’ Concerto for violin, cello and orchestra, Op. 102, Eduard Hanslick concluded that, unfortunately, the work did not belong ‘in the first rank’ of his old friend's creations. The first movement in particular struck a sour note, seldom breaking free from ‘its half-defiant, half-depressed mood, or from its A minor tonality. Daylight rarely shines through its many suspensions, syncopations, rhythmic jolts, and its augmented and diminished intervals. We are almost reminded of Schumann's late manner.’ In the 1880s, to ascribe the stylistic features of Schumann's ‘late manner’ to a musical work was tantamount to delivering the kiss of death, and despite the efforts of a small band of revisionists, received opinion of the music of Schumann's later years remains largely negative over a century later. Sounding a typical refrain, a reviewer of a 1978 recording of Schumann's Violin Concerto describes the slow movement of that work as music ‘with so much insanity in its innards that it's frightening’. Sympathetic critics, fearful that their remarks will be met with scepticism, feel compelled to go on the defensive. Joseph Kerman, for instance, prefaces his thoughtful remarks on the ‘visionary’ cadenza near the end of Schumann's Concert-Allegro mit Introduction for piano and orchestra, Op. 134, with the reminder that even though it is ‘a late work, composed shortly before [Schumann's] commitment’, it should ‘by no means … be dismissed on that account’.