PAR.TI.TA
Johann Sebastian BACH (1685-1760)
Partita No.2 in D minor, BWV 1004 (c.1717-20) [27:06]
Lera AUERBACH (b. 1973)
par.ti.ta for violin solo (2007) [20:32]
Johann Sebastian BACH
Partita No.3 in E major, BWV 1006 (c.1717-20) [17:32]
Eugène YSAŸE (1858-1931)
Sonata in A minor for solo violin, Op. 27 No.2 (1924) [11:54]
Vadim Gluzman (violin)
rec. December 2011, Sendesaal Bremen, Germany
BIS BIS-SACD-1972 [78:24]
We’ve come across Vadim Gluzman’s cheeky smile in a
highly regarded recording of the Bruch Violin Concerto (see review), and now here is a solo disc which
combines two partitas by J.S. Bach with works by Eugène Ysaÿe,
and Lera Auerbach’s par.ti.ta, composed especially for Vadim
Gluzman.
With Bach there are always an almost infinite number of ways to
approach a performance, and having plucked Isabelle Faust’s Harmonia
Mundi recording of these two Partitas plus the Sonata BWV 1005, HMC
902059, I find myself reluctant to pick over comparative merits. Faust is a
little more playful and lighter in touch with the dance movements though
Gluzman is by no means heavy, while both she and Gluzman take on early-music
style in employing vibrato as ornament rather than a constant feature of
tone. We might as well dive straight for the famous and glorious
Chaconne with which the Partita BWV 1004 concludes.
Gluzman’s performance has a superb sense of shape and development, and
a natural and easy instinct for phrasing and breathing in a movement in
which there are no rests. Colour and contrast serve to distinguish between
sections, and while there is drama and jaw-dropping technique there is also
always maximum control and a feeling that we are as close as we can be to
what Bach would have wanted. This is one movement in which I can safely say
I prefer Gluzman to Faust, who serves up mildly sour intonation in the first
few minutes, something from which I find it hard to recover no matter how
wonderful her playing can be later on. Gluzman is terrific in the stunning
variations before the major modulation, opening the door quietly and
cautiously into that garden of brighter colours and leading us past its
fragrant blooms with measured care, allowing their presence to take full
effect. The central measures of this section is like Mussorgsky’s
Great Gate of Kiev, just before we find ourselves dropping, via a
delicate transition, back into the minor-key abyss.
I was privileged to be in the audience at Lera Auerbach’s
Russian Requiem in Tallinn at the Nargen Festival in 2009, and so her
emphatically passionate sound-world is not entirely foreign territory. Her
par.ti.ta is one of the results of a long-term collaboration with
Vadim Gluzman, and as the work’s dedicatee puts it, this “is an
incredible work, projecting Lera’s lifelong fascination with
Bach.” There are ‘traces and echoes’ of Bach throughout
the piece, with a relationship ‘more on a subconscious level’
than in terms of using direct quotes, though identifiable moments can be
found. Exploring the outer extremes of the violin’s range and the
performer’s technique, this is much more than a flamboyant showpiece,
with masses of intriguing material, the technical effects always in place to
serve an expressive point. There is a Schnittke-like feel to the dramatic
repetitions of the seventh Adagio tragico movement, and the mood in
general cannot really be taken as anything other than serious and movingly
melancholy as well as excitingly dramatic at times. Bach’s more
jocular side is less commonly apparent, though the lighter Andantino
scherzando earlier on does balance things a little.
Eugène Ysaÿe’s Sonata in A minor has been
chosen for its parallels with Bach’s Partita No.3, and Gluzman
gives a stunning performance of one of the sternest tests in the violin
repertoire. Comparing this to Henning Kraggerud’s Simax SACD (see review) is another thankless task, as both are so very good.
Gluzman is more extravagantly flamboyant in the first movement, digging out
tremendous amounts of detail and character in a performance which is scary
in its directness. The following Malinconia is deeply moving, though
a little more swiftly forward in pace than Kraggerud’s.
Gluzman’s deeper, darker toned instrument works superbly in the
two-part counterpoint of this beautiful movement. Gluzman is eloquent and
elegant in the third movement, his pizzicati full-toned, the searching
melodic progressions questioning and questing. I love Kraggerud’s
spreading of those pizzicato chords in the opening of this movement, but
Gluzman’s accented touch works as well. Les Furies is every bit
the stunning finale you would hope for.
This is a superbly prepared programme and recorded in stunning SACD
sound within which Gluzman moves about a bit, but in this regard taking
nothing away from your being able to close your eyes and imagine him swaying
expressively in front of you with startling sonic clarity. The Sendesaal
acoustic is richly resonant, and with both detail and atmosphere this is a
recital of masterpieces performed by a master craftsman, and one to relish.
Dominy Clements
A recital to relish.