Incredibly, these Caprices
were published in 1820, long before
Schubert or Beethoven died. Like the
Chopin Études which they
inspired (indeed, to some degree, like
Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier of
a century previous) they are technical
exercises that transcend the pedagogic
limitations of their genre. They do
not have the emotional range (or even
the depth) of the Chopin, but they cover
as much ground, technically, and range
far and wide in terms of musical material
- including a lot of decorative chromaticism
and ambitious figuration which must
have seemed aggressively inventive in
its day. Their greatest claim to fame,
of course, is Caprice No 24 - the ‘source’
of Rachmaninov’s celebrated Rhapsody,
of the Brahms Variations, Op 35, and
the Lutoslawski set for two pianos.
We have here abundant
double-stopping, harmonics, complex
ornamental passage work, and fantastic
combinations or juxtapositions of pizzicato
and bowing. So it goes without saying
that these pieces require nothing less
than the technical dexterity and flair
for which Paganini himself was famous.
And that’s asking a lot! Massima Quarta’s
technique is phenomenal. Everything
is perfectly in tune, and musically
perfectly formed. There is nowhere on
the entire disc where one feels remotely
uncomfortable, lest some pyrotechnical
feat should misfire, be misjudged in
any way, or fail to make its musical
point. Similarly, there’s nothing on
this disc which significantly departs
from Paganini’s expressive instructions,
or fails to capture the music’s essential
character.
So, a top recommendation?
A confident recommendation, yes. But
you’ve only got to sample an artist
such as Perlman (on EMI CDC5 67237-2)
or Accardo (on DG 429 714-2) - or even
Ilya Kaler on Naxos 8.550717 - and experience
an additional dimension, absent here,
to realise that Quarta exhibits a coolness,
a slickness, which amounts to understatement.
It is perhaps an ungrateful thing to
say, but everything comes across as
so easy, and apparently so familiar
to him, that the element of bravery,
of obstacles overcome, is missing. The
expressive extremes which this music
encompasses can be more fully explored
than they are by Quarta, who seems so
often to engage an expressive mode from
without (as if switching something on)
rather than ‘live’ it from within. These
observations are personal, and not easy
to quantify or illustrate: and they
will not matter to everyone. The counter
argument is that these pieces are so
impossibly taxing, and plumb only moderate
depths anyway, that, whereas high levels
of technical accuracy are a sine
qua non, over-characterisation in
such music is intrusive, and ultimately
self-defeating.
Whatever one’s eventual
conclusion, this is undeniably extraordinary
music, and extraordinary violin-playing.
And, as you’d expect of Chandos, the
recording brings the violinist into
your living room.
Peter J Lawson
Massimo Quarta (violin) 
