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
Vadim Gluzman (violin)
[78:24] 