In his notes, Paul Griffiths suggests that whilst these four 
                  works are diverse — indeed they are — they ‘share a sense of 
                  estrangement from the traditions and models to which they so 
                  evidently appeal.’ This is an adroitly convoluted stance, and 
                  not wholly convincing. Indeed elsewhere Griffiths gets even 
                  more Jamesian. Post-facto rationalisations are always dangerous. 
                  I prefer to see the programme simply as a rather intriguing 
                  one, stylistically, geographically and temporally. 
                  
                  Takemitsu’s Distance de fée is an early work lasting 
                  six minutes. Its quietude and concentration evoke Messiaen, 
                  but it’s full of its own embryonic sense of colour and calm 
                  too. From Messiaen in Tokyo we move to Hindemith in the Berlin 
                  of 1935. His almost equally as terse Violin Sonata was premiered 
                  by Stefen Frenkel in Geneva in 1936. And as an aside, I do hope 
                  that some enterprising company will see fit to reissue Frenkel’s 
                  Kurt Weill recordings on Homochord 78s alongside his Rathaus 
                  and Tiessen discs. The Duo Gazzana shows a good sense of rhythmic 
                  impetus here, as well as a fine concern for legato. Their ensemble 
                  is, naturally enough, watertight, and Natascia Gazzana varies 
                  her vibrato speed with intelligence in the Langsam section 
                  of the second of the two movements. 
                  
                  I didn’t know, but Griffiths’ notes relate that Hindemith took 
                  part in the first performance outside Czechoslovakia of Janáček’s 
                  Violin Sonata. Performances of this work have been getting wilder 
                  and wilder of late. Even very good violinists think the way 
                  to play it is to exaggerate every gesture, to bend tone until 
                  it becomes gritty and ugly. I don’t wish to be at all dictatorial 
                  about this, but Czech players, from Alexander Plocek (on 78s 
                  — the first to record it) to Josef Suk, never felt the need 
                  to do this. Fortunately neither does the Duo under discussion. 
                  I much prefer their taut but sensitive reserve to many current 
                  exponents. It reminds me strongly of Suk and Panenka’s performance 
                  on disc. The only time I heard Suk play, which was at the Wigmore 
                  Hall in London, he performed this sonata and played it with 
                  the kind of directness and unselfconsciousness that has made 
                  his own disc a classic. So, the Gazzanas score highly for me. 
                  There’s a good balance, the echo effects in the finale are just 
                  right, characterisation is first class. Natascia Gazzana’s vibrato 
                  is a touch slow in the Ballada and could do with more 
                  colour, but otherwise, it’s a really good performance. And Raffaella 
                  Gazzana’s playing of the difficult piano part is outstanding. 
                  
                  
                  Valentin Silvestrov’s Five Pieces are a very different 
                  affair. Composed in 2004 and dedicated to Gidon Kremer, these 
                  are sensitive, very beautiful miniatures. The loveliest is perhaps 
                  the Barcarole, which is suffused with beguiling beauty. 
                  They’re played with great tenderness. 
                  
                  I must point out that, despite ECM’s typically superb recording 
                  values, the disc lasts only 47 minutes. 
                  
                  Jonathan Woolf