Writing in the booklet, Augustin Hadelich places much emphasis
on the tragic elements displayed in Poulenc’s Sonata, and though
one cannot totally disagree with this, the overall effect of
the work is, to this listener, like much of that master composer’s
work, one of bitter-sweetness. The first movement alternates
busy, neo-classical textures with more lyrical passages, whereas
the slow movement is one gorgeous melodic moment after another.
There is drama in the finale, with a wistful coda preceding
a curious, uncompromising ending. Composed for Ginette Neveu
and in memory of Garcia Lorca, the work is highly approachable
and one is not surprised to read that audiences respond enthusiastically
when the violinist includes it in recitals. The performance
cannot be faulted.
There then follows a deliciously restrained performance of Stravinsky’s
captivating Suite from 1925, a transcription of movements from
Pulcinella, itself based on music by Pergolesi. This
fascinating work can seem like mere pastiche at first hearing,
but Stravinsky’s piquant accretions subtly transform it into
something much more important and even, in its own way, rather
moving. As the booklet notes remind us, the composer referred
to it as “an epiphany through which my late work became possible”,
and there are indeed pre-echoes of many of the composer’s neo-classical
works. The performance is just right. This really is immaculate
violin playing, the mood and style of the piece caught to perfection.
This is perhaps the moment, too, to praise Robert Kulek’s piano
playing. It is here, and throughout the recital, a remarkable
display of technical ability and highly developed musical intuition.
Debussy’s Sonata was his last completed work, and the third
in a projected series of six sonatas for different instruments
or groups of instruments. At one point during the long, grim
period that was the close of his life, the composer wrote that
the work was an “example of what may be produced by a sick man
in time of war.” It is an elusive piece, not easy to bring off
in performance. Hadelich and Kulek here give a robust, no-nonsense
account of the first movement, with rather less freedom of pulse
than is usually heard. The “fantasque” elements of the second
movement are admirably expressed, as are the lively passages
of the finale. One is struck by the scrupulous attention given
to the composer’s phrasing and expression markings, very much
a point in favour of this performance. There is masterly control,
too, of the contrast between the more forthright passages and
those wherein the music is more fragile and fragmented. It is
a very fine performance indeed, then, more neo-classical in
feel than many recent performances, as it is compared to older
performances such as that by Kyung Wha Chung and Radu Lupu (Decca),
or the marvellous Arthur Grumiaux on Philips.
As with so many twentieth-century violin works, David Oistrakh
was the beneficiary when Prokofiev agreed to transcribe his
1943 Flute Sonata for violin, the work becoming the Second Violin
Sonata, Op. 94b. Prokofiev had long returned to Russia following
his decade in Paris, and so this work has rather less connection
with the French capital than the others on the disc – and thus
less connection with the disc’s title; no matter, as it concludes
a most satisfyingly constructed programme. The first movement
alternates lyrical passages with others containing rather more
acid, and there is a lovely slow movement. Both feature generous
helpings of melodies in typical Prokofiev style. The second
movement is a lively scherzo and the finale a military march,
though with “tin soldiers” rather than real ones, according
to the violinist. I think this is an astute judgement on the
piece as a whole. Like much Prokofiev, it is immediately appealing,
and repeated listening reveals more. It’s a big piece that works
well on disc and in recital, though there’s no particularly
profound statement anywhere in it. The performance is fully
the equal of the others on this excellent disc, even if some
interpreters have found more Russian – and less French – character
in the work than these performers do.
The recorded balance slightly favours the piano, but this is
a matter of taste. The recording as a whole is close enough
to hear the violinist’s breathing, as well as some discreet
vocalising from, I imagine, the pianist. Mr. Hadelich’s booklet
essay is engaging without being unduly challenging, and that,
plus biographical information about the performers, appears
in three languages.
William Hedley
Augustin Hadelich (violin); Robert Kulek (piano) 
