Document

  1996
    May 1996
        Chamber
                Bartok Solo Violin Sonata, Sz117. 44 Duos, Sz98.

Bartok Solo Violin Sonata, Sz117. 44 [Duo] Duos, Sz98^a. Gyorgy Pauk, ^a Kazuki Sawa (vns).

Naxos (Super budget price) (CD) 8 550868 (73 minutes: DDD).

Bartok 44 [Duo] Duos, Sz98. Lydia Mordkovitch (vn).

IMP Masters (Full price) (CD) 30366 00042 (50 minutes: DDD).

Listening to Gyorgy Pauk’s masterful account of the Solo Sonata reminded me of thematic parallels both between the opening motif of the “Melodia” and the initial bars of the Concerto for Orchestra and between the Presto finale and parts of the Second Violin Concerto’s last movement (there are side-glances at the Concerto for Orchestra in that movement, too). I mention these references because, in a sense, my actually having noticed them suggests unusually clear focusing on the part of the interpreter. Pauk – a confident and consistently perceptive Bartokian – is particularly impressive in the fugue, where his voicing is extremely secure and his tone nicely rounded. Elsewhere, treacherous double-stoppings and sighing harmonics pose him no obvious problems, while his handling of the “Melodia”’s central call to arms (so typical of Bartok’s ‘night music’) sounds especially convincing. He doesn’t hurry, he doesn’t over-project, and one is grateful to join him for what sounds like an act of profound inward communion.

Thereafter Pauk is joined by the Japanese violinist Kazuki Sawa for an ethnically aware account of the 44 Duos. Here the accent is securely on folk inflexions – the closing “Transylvanian Dance” (track 48), for example, where both players effect a forwardly wailing tone. Their keen rhythmic sense is well illustrated in the snappy “Runthenian Kolomejka” (track 39) and their expressive potential in “Sorrow” (track 22). However, perhaps the best track to sample first is 41, “Prelude and Canon” (the first piece in the second book and the longest of the Duos), a sort of ‘Hungarian rhapsody’, the Prelude being slow, the Canon a rough equivalent of the Friss fast section.

Pauk and Sawa make for an admirable partnership and Naxos’s recordings are entirely satisfactory, whereas Lydia Mordkovitch’s self-accompanied disc is something of a mixed blessing. Granted the tone is warm, the approach often expressive (broader than Pauk and Sawa by four minutes) and the recording fairly well balanced, but an overriding caution tends to obscure essential contrasts between individual pieces. Of course Mordkovitch is not the first violinist to play both parts: Heifetz did it in the Bach Double Concerto, Aaron Rosand followed suit in Sarasate and Arthur Grumiaux even went so far as to accompany himself on the piano in Brahms and Mozart sonatas. The virtue of double-tracking is stylistic consistency, the disadvantage (as with talking to yourself), a total lack of genuine dialogue. Compare Mordkovitch with Pauk and Sawa in, say, the “Mosquito Dance” (track 26 on Naxos, 22 on IMP), where the former suggests an oddly inappropriate con amore (mosquitoes in love, perhaps?) and the latter infuse the piece with keen conversational crossfire. Or you might sample the aforementioned “Prelude and Canon” (tracks 41 or 38 – not 37 as IMP’s incorrect track listing suggests) where Mordkovitch doesn’t quite focus the Canon. In fact, the more demanding pieces from the fourth book generally come off worst – not because Mordkovitch lacks technique (far from it), but because there most of all the frisson that two good players habitually generate is absolutely essential for the music’s full effect. Were Mordkovitch to have programmed a half-dozen Duos at the end of a concerto or sonata – as a novel bonus – then the process would probably have worked better, but hearing all 44 performed in this manner makes for an oddly unvaried musical experience.

Returning to the Naxos disc for a moment, I’ve often said that when it comes to recommending a CD on musical grounds, price is irrelevant. That claim still stands, although I’m happy to confirm the exceedingly low price of their excellent programme.

RC



		Listening to Gyorgy Pauk’s masterful account of the Solo Sonata reminded me of thematic parallels both between the opening motif of the “Melodia” and the initial bars of the Concerto for Orchestra and between the Presto finale and parts of the Second Violin Concerto’s last movement (there are side-glances at the Concerto for Orchestra in that movement, too). I mention these references because, in a sense, my actually having noticed them suggests unusually clear focusing on the part of the interpreter. Pauk – a confident and consistently perceptive Bartokian – is particularly impressive in the fugue, where his voicing is extremely secure and his tone nicely rounded. Elsewhere, treacherous double-stoppings and sighing harmonics pose him no obvious problems, while his handling of the “Melodia”’s central call to arms (so typical of Bartok’s ‘night music’) sounds especially convincing. He doesn’t hurry, he doesn’t over-project, and one is grateful to join him for what sounds like an act of profound inward communion.



		Thereafter Pauk is joined by the Japanese violinist Kazuki Sawa for an ethnically aware account of the 44 Duos. Here the accent is securely on folk inflexions – the closing “Transylvanian Dance” (track 48), for example, where both players effect a forwardly wailing tone. Their keen rhythmic sense is well illustrated in the snappy “Runthenian Kolomejka” (track 39) and their expressive potential in “Sorrow” (track 22). However, perhaps the best track to sample first is 41, “Prelude and Canon” (the first piece in the second book and the longest of the Duos), a sort of ‘Hungarian rhapsody’, the Prelude being slow, the Canon a rough equivalent of the Friss fast section.



		Pauk and Sawa make for an admirable partnership and Naxos’s recordings are entirely satisfactory, whereas Lydia Mordkovitch’s self-accompanied disc is something of a mixed blessing. Granted the tone is warm, the approach often expressive (broader than Pauk and Sawa by four minutes) and the recording fairly well balanced, but an overriding caution tends to obscure essential contrasts between individual pieces. Of course Mordkovitch is not the first violinist to play both parts: Heifetz did it in the Bach Double Concerto, Aaron Rosand followed suit in Sarasate and Arthur Grumiaux even went so far as to accompany himself on the piano in Brahms and Mozart sonatas. The virtue of double-tracking is stylistic consistency, the disadvantage (as with talking to yourself), a total lack of genuine dialogue. Compare Mordkovitch with Pauk and Sawa in, say, the “Mosquito Dance” (track 26 on Naxos, 22 on IMP), where the former suggests an oddly inappropriate con amore (mosquitoes in love, perhaps?) and the latter infuse the piece with keen conversational crossfire. Or you might sample the aforementioned “Prelude and Canon” (tracks 41 or 38 – not 37 as IMP’s incorrect track listing suggests) where Mordkovitch doesn’t quite focus the Canon. In fact, the more demanding pieces from the fourth book generally come off worst – not because Mordkovitch lacks technique (far from it), but because there most of all the frisson that two good players habitually generate is absolutely essential for the music’s full effect. Were Mordkovitch to have programmed a half-dozen Duos at the end of a concerto or sonata – as a novel bonus – then the process would probably have worked better, but hearing all 44 performed in this manner makes for an oddly unvaried musical experience.



		Returning to the Naxos disc for a moment, I’ve often said that when it comes to recommending a CD on musical grounds, price is irrelevant. That claim still stands, although I’m happy to confirm the exceedingly low price of their excellent programme.