Considering he was just about to perform the Brahms Violin Concerto, the US-born Israeli-American virtuoso Gil Shaham seemed very happy to be interviewed an hour or so before last week's recital in Spain. On Saturday night he performs, accompanied by Akira Eguchi, at the National Concert Hall in Dublin. Does he have a pre-concert ritual? "My laundry." For once the publicity people are absolutely right. There is nothing of the edgy temperamental genius about him, he certainly is a character - without being eccentric, unpredictable or difficult.

Gil Shaham's New York Jewish humour counters his famous intelligence, as well as his musical gift. Obvious love of music and his relaxed enjoyment of playing are two of several reasons behind the success of Shaham, who, in an age of determined musical innovation, makes no apologies for being a traditionalist. "Sure you want the style of the work as the composer intended it to be played, but what you have to really capture is the spirit of the music."

Born in Illinois in 1971 into a family of high-achievers, his parents, both Israeli, are scientists. He claims, "I had to work to keep up with the dinner conversation." The family returned to Israel when he was two. Of his fascination with the violin which began when he was four he says, "I'd like to say it came from something profound like, `well, the violin is so close to the human voice, etc, etc.' " - all said with mock gravitas - "but the truth is my older brother was learning piano and I just wanted to be different."

Still only 27, there is an ease and maturity about his approach to a diverse repertoire which is strongly Romantic, yet is not dependent on the more showy virtuoso works. Instead, he has increasingly tended towards less widely recorded pieces. His Paganini For Two (1993) - an unusual, very beautiful recording with Goran Sollscher of the great virtuoso's little known works for violin and guitar - is a revelation, utterly unlike Paganini's famously frenetic violin works and showcases the lyricism, delicacy and emotional depths of Shaham's playing.

"Paganini fell in love with a woman who really hated the sound of the violin, so he concentrated on the guitar and wrote about 100 pieces. They're very gentle aren't they?"

It was also Shaham who in 1994 recorded the Korngold Violin Concerto and had no problem with championing the Viennese composer whose reputation suffered greatly through his association with the movie business and his winning of two film score Oscars. "There's lot of snobbery about his Hollywood connection. People forget that Korngold came first, not the movies. I see him as a pioneer. There's a good biography by Brendan Carroll." Shaham first played the concerto when he was 13, "and I have loved it ever since. It was only later I found out that some of the themes came from his movie soundtracks. But so what. Music is funny, you just love it. . . yet I can hear a piece of Schoenberg and have to say `I'm sorry I just don't get it.' "

Shaham's recording of the Barber and Korngold concertos under Andre Previn was well received and he says he likes the way the Barber reflects the East coast of the US and the Korngold the West. Also the fact that the Barber begun in Switzerland in 1939, clearly begins in the 19th century and yet "by the third movement, you're seeing the skyscrapers being built." Last year he recorded Glazunov and Kabalevsky Violin Concertos with Mikhail Pletnev's Russian National Orchestra. For sheer all round quality of performance, the Russian CD is exceptional. In 1996, he recorded Prokofiev's Violin Concertos No 1 & 2 with the London Symphony Orchestra under Previn. Again, he agrees, "great music" Prokofiev is difficult, the scores requiring attention to specific detail. "It's very exact, you have to play every note exactly as he intended." On Saturday he is playing Prokofiev's Five Melodies with Schubert's Sonatina for Violin and Piano and Faure's Violin Sonata No 1.

Whatever he is playing, his tone is warm and lyrical. While he has a big sound, it is fluid rather than attacking. It is also unmistakably European. "My first teacher, Samuel Bernstein, was Russian."

The lessons began in Israel when he was seven. But no one could say that Shaham was pushed by ambitious parents. "My mother didn't want me to play the violin. She couldn't stand the racket - and in this she is right. Nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, makes a worse noise than someone learning the violin. You can play the piano badly, but the violin sounds like someone is being murdered." The boy persisted. "I had to threaten to refuse to speak unless I was allowed to learn."

AT 10 he made his debut as a soloist with the Jerusalem Symphony Orchestra. "It wasn't such a big deal. I think the fuss was because it was a little kid playing. I'm sure I was terrible. I know I was terrible." He laughs. There's a knock at the door. "Ah my dry cleaning. Now I have something to wear tonight. This is what it is like, you live out of a suitcase in hotel rooms." He is not complaining. Simply explaining what it is like. Shaham's personality, as well as aspects of his playing, remind one of Itzhak Perlman. The observation pleases him. "He is one of my heroes," he says. "You should see the size of his hands, they're twice as big as mine." Perlman also featured indirectly at the centre of what Shaham calls "my big break." Due to perform in London in 1988, Perlman became ill. "I was in English class and was told I was wanted. I though `oh boy, this is about missing one Phys. Ed. class too many' - I don't like sport and I'm always trying to lose weight. But it was about going to London to stand in for Itzhak Perlman. I went." He performed the Sibelius and Bruch concertos and impressed sufficiently to be soon playing at Carnegie Hall. By then he had also been offered an exclusive recording contract with Deutsche Grammophon.

Shaham only then began to speak English when he moved to the US at the age of 11. His accent is strong, "it gets stronger when I'm in Europe." In common with Nigel Kennedy, Shaham also studied under Dorothy DeLay and was a pupil at the Juilliard School. Unlike many musicians, Shaham does not appear to have suffered from pressure of expectations. "Well, if you're at a music school like that, it means you're serious about a career in music." Due to record the Brahms Concerto later this year he says, "It must be my desert island concerto. I also love the Beethoven. But the Brahms has so much. Still, we wouldn't have the Brahms without the Beethoven."

Kreisler and Heifetz are other idols and he says, "living in New York I have met people who knew Kreisler, he seems to have been a wonderful person as well as artist. There is great warmth about him." Practising up to four hours a day, he says, "I can't complain. I love music and I'm lucky in my life." He plays a 300-year-old Stradivarius. "Again I was lucky. The owner let me play it for several years before I bought it. All you can say about an instrument like this is that the sound coming from it has a glow, a sort of golden glow." Travelling all the time is difficult, he admits, and he says, "I'd like to stop having to put my life on `pause' all the time and be able to have more time. I'd really like to learn to roller blade."