Fauré’s First
Sonata is a magnificent creation, one
that requires the utmost sensibilité
from its players. Akira Eguchi opens
proceedings rather carefully, and it
has to be admitted that we enter a different
world when Shaham appears, and the emotion
really starts to flow. This is an ardent
view – whenever the music threatens
to relax, sudden passionate outbursts
occur. Despite the slightly nervous
start, Eguchi emerges at the end of
the movement very much as Shaham’s equal.
This is a partnership that is continued
in the Andante, where interaction between
the protagonists becomes almost magical.
The flow is lovely – not so lovely is
Shaham’s sniffing; something which recurs
frequently. The Scherzo, which, astonishingly
sounds like Copland to begin with, is
playful and confident - listen to how
Shaham digs in at 2’10, or his elfin
pizzicati. The flighty, elusive
violin line of the finale is very well
done, yet where the ‘quasi presto’ of
the tempo indication has gone to is
beyond me. But Shaham plays authoritatively.
It is easy to believe this is just his
type of music and that this entire endeavour
is a labour of love. He is unafraid
to place his heart firmly on his sleeve.
The other major work
on the ‘album’ is the late, and predominantly
reflective, Piano Trio, Op. 120, where
Shaham and Eguchi are joined by mellow-toned
cellist Brinton Smith.
The Andantino is hyper-beautiful,
almost whispered in its intimacy. Fauré’s
total compositional security shines
through throughout – by this stage in
his life he knows exactly what he wants
to say, and exactly how to say it. This
movement (track 14) is the highlight
of the disc. Yet there is much to admire
also in the rest of this work, from
the way the players invoke the aching
nostalgia of the first movement without
descending into indulgence, or the infectious
rhythms of the finale.
In between comes a
garland of miniatures. The Romance,
Op. 28 finds Shaham revelling in the
decorative line, and he and Eguchi enjoy
the contrastive, active second section;
‘Fileuse’ (Spinning Song) and ‘Sicilienne’
(from Pelléas et Mélisande)
are both given loving performances.
Shaham’s accompaniment to the piano
in the former is remarkably nimble,
his tone silken in the latter. Similarly
the Berceuse is simply lovely;
how effectively Shaham can ‘whisper’
a line!
Sérénade
toscanne was written in the aftermath
of his broken engagement and is suffused
with melancholy pain; similarly, Clair
de lune has a veiled atmosphere.
The Andante, Op. 75 speaks of
greater things than these other miniatures;
it is possible that it was intended
for a Violin Concerto that was never
finished. It certainly rises to fair
emotional heights, and Shaham is very
alive to its expressive compass. The
Morceau de vue (‘sight-reading
piece’, written for a competition) features
subtle harmonic shadings that make one
regret its brevity at less than two
minutes.
Après une
rêve, arranged for piano trio
by Eguchi, acts as an encore after the
substantial Piano Trio. It is a tender
and thought-provoking way to close the
‘album’ and Smith’s cello playing is
heartrendingly beautiful.
The recorded sound
captures all of the instrumentalists’
subtleties; the piano tone coming off
particularly well, and retains the intimacy
of the enterprise.
A very special disc,
and one to return to often.
Colin Clarke
Gil Shaham (violin); Akira Eguchi (piano);
aBrinton Smith (cello). 