Sometimes fire should be tempered with a degree of ice. That 
                  was my impression listening to Repin’s way with two of these 
                  sonatas – the ones he’s played least – whilst noting that this 
                  stricture didn’t apply so much to the Franck, the one he’s played 
                  most. 
                  
                  Repin and Lugansky have constructed an unusual programme – Janácek, 
                  Grieg, Franck – and play with fervour, and with dynamism, which 
                  is not the same as excessive speed, to impressive technical 
                  effect. Whether it’s always to impressive musical effect is 
                  a matter I find less easy to judge. Few in my experience have 
                  started the Janácek with such fervid passion as this pairing. 
                  Repin slices into the opening phrases with sheer bravado and 
                  tensile strength, his vibrato widening at the most apposite 
                  peaks, then closing again. The result is unsettled, and unsettling. 
                  Note that Josef Suk and Jan Panenka prefer an altogether stealthier 
                  and less overt approach – indeed Suk does so on all his recordings, 
                  such as that with Firkušný. Coincidentally I was also listening 
                  to the first recording of this sonata, on a Supraphon 78 from 
                  the 1940s, with the great Alexander Plocek and the equally estimable 
                  Pálenícek. Their reserve is similar to that of Suk and Panenka. 
                  There are no great plosive moments, nor narrative dislocations 
                  such as I find made by Repin and Lugansky. Indeed what I find 
                  promoted by the latter are localised instances of passionate 
                  declamation largely unrelated to the musical argument as a whole. 
                  So whilst it’s perfectly true that the beautifully nuanced playing 
                  in the second movement is a delight, there is a sense that both 
                  musicians are simply trying too hard, and they are certainly 
                  too razory – Repin is at least – in the third movement. Outsize, 
                  outspoken, with excessive dynamics and an unwillingness to relax 
                  – that I’m afraid is my experience. 
                  
                  In the Grieg there is a similar temptation to take the music 
                  by the scruff of its neck. If you’re sensitive, like the first 
                  performers on disc, Albert Sammons and William Murdoch, you’ll 
                  marry virtuosity and panache with sweetly innocent folkloric 
                  explorations. If you ramp up the virtuosity, as Heifetz did 
                  in his recording with Emanuel Bay, it still pays not to overbalance 
                  your material. If you’re assured players, such as Pierre Amoyal 
                  and Frederic Chiu [HMU 907256], you’ll preserve the charm through 
                  exceptional bow control and ensemble nuance. Repin and Lugansky 
                  are not as successful as these pairings in dealing justly with 
                  the sometimes competing demands of the sonata, and they overload 
                  it. They’re on safer ground with the Franck, espousing some 
                  daring dynamics and making good contrasts, though even here 
                  I find details that sound to me to be too didactic, too forced. 
                  
                  
                  In fact I was worried throughout this decently engineered disc 
                  that the musicians were point-making. I dare say little of this 
                  holds technical terror for Repin, but he doesn’t seem to be 
                  inside two of the sonatas, and that’s a shame. He’s a great 
                  musician, no doubt. It’s just the affinities here are forced. 
                  
                  
                  Jonathan Woolf