Passion Ysaÿe
Eugène YSAŸE (1858-1931)
Six Sonatas for Solo Violin, Op. 27 (1924)
No.1 in G minor "To Joseph Szigeti" [13.31]
No.2 in A minor "To Jacques Thibaud" [11.08]
No.3 in D minor "To Georges Enesco" [5.58]
No.4 in E minor "To Fritz Kreisler" [9.34]
No.5 in G major "To Mathieu Crickboom" [8.12]
No.6 in E major "To Manuel Quiroga" [6.13]
Rachel Kolly d’Alba (violin)
rec. August 2008, Switzerland.
WARNER CLASSICS 2564 68385-5 [67:38]
Passion is certainly a word you can apply to these recordings, which in terms
of timings undercut those of Henning Kraggerud (see review)
at times by a remarkably wide margin. Comparing the two recordings, Kolly
d’Alba is closer to the microphones, providing immediacy and impact, but ultimately
a more fatiguing listen than with Kraggerud. His mix is admittedly balanced
to accommodate SACD spaciousness, but the comparative effect is the same in
plain stereo. This Warner disc is superbly recorded, but does catch every
sniff and other inhalation along with the notes.
I’ve had another listen to Kraggerud, and for good measure obtained a copy
of the score. A colleague of mine mentioned finding it hard to believe these
pieces were being played by a single person before seeing the evidence in
music notation, but then, he’s a horn player. I was more interested in finding
out if my unease about certain aspects of this recording could be given more
clarity through a more thorough examination, and as ever this is indeed the
case. Rest assured, Rachel Kolly d’Alba is a remarkable violinist and these
are incredible performances as any good performance of these sonatas must
be, but there are one or two warning lights I would put next to this CD.
I may have been rather pre-programmed by Henning Kraggerud, but there can
hardly be any denying his poise and refinement in these pieces, and hearing
this new recording throws his remarkable achievement into sharp relief. He
does sometimes take movements a little under the marked metronome tempo, but
the music gains in its communication through making each note and chord sound
effectively. Kolly d’Alba’s opening to the Sonata No.1, marked Grave,
is a little like a barn door being crashed by heavy machinery by comparison.
With a higher tempo and superficially more intense approach, we miss clarity
in some of those spread chords, and the harmonic intention of the music is
weakened as a result. Kraggerud’s double-stopping is also more seamless, and
in other movements his pizzicati have more tone and substance. There
are some other little niggles I have, but I don’t want to turn this into a
prickly commentary on minuscule detail – no performance of these pieces will
ever be entirely perfect, and with so much impressive playing on offer it
would be churlish to complain. My criticisms where there are any would always
be connected with my impression of how the composer’s ideas are communicated
– which in any case will have to be taken as a subjective point of view. The
Fugato movement in this sonata is a remarkable piece, but the symptoms
of unseemly haste do crop up here from time to time. The moments where the
fugue theme appears amongst a decorative harmonic movement in triplets for
instance, where other players give themselves more rhythmic license to allow
the melodic notes to speak, Kolly d’Alba is more determined to maintain the
flow as it appears on the page, and makes things sound congested to my ears.
There is also a big fermata over the open G string note which launches
a run to another G four octaves higher which is ignored. Admittedly there
is an ad lib. marking, but I take that to mean longer, allowing the
fundamental to resonate, rather than leaping off it as quickly as possible
as if your bow was too short to make it to the change of direction two beats
later. I wouldn’t mention the missed last upper F in bar two of the Allegretto
poco scherzoso if it didn’t happen twice in the repeated opening section.
With the greater space given later on in this movement those spread chords
do come through with greater clarity, and you can hear the difference it makes
when this kind of material is given sufficient weight.
Kolly d’Alba teases more with the little Bach quotes at the beginning of the
Sonata No.2, but some of those dramatic phrases are dashed through
so quickly that you wonder what’s going on. It’s impressive violin playing,
but disorientating musically. Taking the Malinconia movement more compactly
perhaps agrees with the Poco Lento marking, but doesn’t tug at my tear-ducts
in the same way as Kraggerud, whose atmosphere here is rather special. The
Sonata No.3 opens with another rising gesture which I feel should end
with a sense of crescendo which reaches through the final long note and beyond.
It’s a shame this is rather short here, and deflates at the end of the note,
an anti-climax rather than a powerful sweep which I believe should end in
a slower more intensely sustained bow movement. This Kolly d’Alba does more
in the opposing downward gesture further on in the introduction, so it’s a
question of balance and structure as well. The opening of the Sonata No.4
is another where the choice of hearing those swift movements between melody
notes as passing ornaments or harmonic events where every note can be heard
is also one I don’t hear resolved as I would have liked. This kind of thing
niggles more at me as there is so much more clarity later on in the piece,
and as a result so much more effective communication of the ideas.
I am only skimming the surface here, but all of these little corners of doubt
have their echoes elsewhere in these sonatas. Again, my preference for the
overtly less passionate but more poised and still electric Kraggerud will
be obvious, but the reasons should be objectively apparent even if you don’t
agree and prefer the ‘passion’: with Kraggerud you can listen and be left
wanting more. He accurately pins down the climax and tonal centre of each
movement and gives us structure as well as spectacle. His playing flows with
a greater sense of logical sense, allowing the memory to reflect and refer,
rather than having the sensation on constantly being on the crest of a precipitate
wave. With Kolly d’Alba I personally finish feeling a bit roughed-up, and
more ready for a cold shower than an encore.
What is it that I do like about this recording? Well, more than you might
imagine. The drama in Kolly d’Alba’s playing is inescapable, and that Passion
Ysaÿe title goes further than mere sales pitch in terms of white-hot expressive
emphasis. Kolly d’Alba doesn’t turn these pieces into stereotype showstoppers
despite my moans about the occasional over-swift set of notes or loss of integrity
in certain corners. Her performances are not only technically impressive,
which is a given but shouldn’t by any means be taken for granted, but also
in essence true to the spirit of the sonatas. If you want to hear what I mean,
turn to Sonata No.5, where Kolly d’Alba creates a marvellous atmosphere, responding
to every marking in the score to superb effect.
Rachel Kolly d’Alba is a special talent of whom we will be hearing more, of
this you can be assured. This CD is accompanied by her intelligently written
programme notes for each of the sonatas, and despite a few fluffy pictures
is a release of substance, restraining from becoming one of those personality
promo discs. By way of a summary, my impression of this is that of a young
person’s recording – spectacular and wonderfully impressive, but still erring
on the side of toothsome technical show when weighed against memorable musical
communication. There’s that word again, but in the end it’s the music which
will bring you back time and again, not the player or the violin – in this
case a 1727 Stradivarius. I would be the last to say that Rachel Kolly d’Alba’s
recording is lacking in merit or musicality, but I am prepared to bet twenty
years worth of compound interest on a fiver that she will be doing it differently
when it comes time to pay out.
Dominy Clements