Everywhere
you look, opinions are divided on this set. Everyone is in
agreement that Perlman’s brilliant technique is beyond reproach,
but for some the romantic gloss in his interpretation or
playing style seems to spoil the architecture of the music.
There is also that switch between instruments – all but BWV
1003 and 1005 being played on a Guarneri, and the two mentioned
numbers being completed on the Stradivarius which Perlman
acquired while the project was ongoing. It is a little strange
that the Guarneri recordings seem to have a greater halo
of reverberation, while the Stradivarius Sonatas are drier,
seemingly with a slightly closer and more intimate microphone
placement. This is all a matter of taste, but with the ‘new’ instrument
the performances do at times seem to take on a more exploratory,
searching character and some of the bravura seems to ebb
here and there – although with the Allegro assai of
BWV 1005 Perlman might have me eating my words.
These
works are among the greatest test for any violinist, and
while Bach had featured strongly in his early recordings
Perlman waited a long time before committing these works
to record. Putting aside the arguments and taking the set
on face value, it is easy to hear why it has had lasting
popularity. For a start, the violin sound is set at a realistic
perspective, making the sound pleasant and not in the least
tiring. Compared to Shlomo Mintz’s athletic 1984 Deutsche
Grammophon set it sounds almost recessed, but none the worse
for that. Perlman knocks most of the comparable – I mean
non baroque-specialist – recordings into a cocked hat in
technical terms, and there is always something reassuring
about having no worries about intonation and the like. I
had another listen to one of the sets which has long been
languishing in my hard-to-get-at CD cupboard behind the sofa,
Lydia Mordkovitch on Chandos (1990) and re-discovered my
disappointment in some of the rather sad sounding moments
which sap the joy from airing such grand music over your
loudspeakers. To be sure, this is the kind of set which you
won’t be getting out at every occasion - Bach’s Sei Solo
a Violino senza Basso accompagnato are really too demanding
for background listening and won’t go down well at most parties.
When you do decide to give your brain a treat however, you
don’t want the troublesome nature of double-stops getting
in the way. With Perlman you can sit back and be transported
through Bach’s incredible musical journey as if riding in
a Rolls Royce.
I
do have affection for a set which has also been around for
some time, Ruggiero Ricci’s 1981 Unicorn-Kanchana recording,
which, alas, you won’t find in the shops. ‘Each movement
an unedited performance’ is the proud announcement which
went with the programme notes, and with some heart-stopping
playing and the solo instrument suiting that Calrec ‘Soundfield’ microphone
to the ground I’d love to see this one back on the shelves.
Despite one or two moments when editing has clearly been
required, Perlman does have quite a ‘live’ quality in his
performances. He doesn’t go in for risk-taking as such, but
while some critics complain about superficiality I find he
digs deep enough. I think the problem lies in the consistent legato nature
of his playing. This approach can have a tendency to smooth
over climaxes and reduce the drama one might expect at some
points. Listening from about 10 minutes into the great Chaconne in
BWV 1004 Perlman does vary the articulation somewhat, but
not nearly as much as some. He also seems to sit back on
the tempo at places where you might feel the urge to press
on in order to build tension.
We
flute players are of course madly jealous of the extended sostenuto you
can do on a violin – we have to keep taking breaths – what
a drag. Just listening to the expanse of the first Adagio movement
of BWV 1005 will make most flautists faint. Perlman doesn’t
give in to much in the way of abandoned joy in the following Fuga,
but allows the music to develop and expand, giving it some
of the weight remembered from the finale of BWV 1004. I am
not so keen on the tight vibrato in the Loure and Gavotte of
BWV 1006, which reminds me of the needle wobble I used to
get playing records in a London house I lived in where freight
trains passed on a regular basis. One can be picky, but in
the end it all comes down to personal preference and taste.
Competition there is of course, and some of the more revelatory
recordings have come from the likes of Rachel Podger on Channel
Classics, whose equally admirable technique marries with
a foundation in authentic performing practice to great effect.
Perlman need not elbow every version of these pieces from
the shelves, but at mid-price can stand shoulder to shoulder
with anyone in this repertoire. For any newcomers it will
certainly be a wonderful introduction to some of Bach’s greatest
works.
Dominy Clements
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