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Reviewer: Jerry
Dubins
Let me stipulate two things at the outset of this review: (1) Gil Shaham is one of the foremost violinists on the world stage today; and (2) until now, I’ve never met a Shaham performance of anything I didn’t like. His new Bach Sonatas and Partitas, however, really shocked me, and that’s saying a lot for someone who isn’t easily shocked. Perhaps if I’d read Shaham’s album note before starting my listening, the impact would have been blunted somewhat, but it wouldn’t have altered my ultimate judgment of the violinist’s Bach as an utterly ill-advised fool’s errand. The issue, plain and simple, is tempos. These are the fastest readings on record, bar none, that I am aware of—faster than Heifetz in 1952, faster than Milstein in 1954, faster than Menuhin in 1935, and faster than Milstein again in 1973. Still, this doesn’t even begin to describe the warp speeds at which Shaham takes these works, speeds so unbelievably fast that entire movements are dashed off as if they were Paganini caprices. Following is a table displaying movement timings for just the First Sonata in G Minor for all the versions of Bach’s Unaccompanied Sonatas and Partitas currently in my collection. Sonata No. 1 (BWV 1001) Date Adagio Fugue Siciliana Presto Gil Shaham 2014 3:12 4:12 2:41 3:23 Jascha Heifetz 1952 4:44 4:47 4:06 3:25 Nathan Milstein 1954 4:23 4:49 3:28 2:18 Gergory Fulkerson 2000 3:52 4:53 3:17 3:51 Yehudi Menuhin 1935 4:17 4:54 3:19 3:52 Joseph Silverstein 2002 3:42 4:57 2:54 3:32 Nathan Milstein 1973 3:54 5:00 3:10 2:33 Alina Ibragimova 2009 4:32 5:04 3:29 3:18 Arthur Grumiaux 1960 3:33 5:08 2:18 2:32 Christian Tetzlaff 1993 3:50 5:10 3:16 3:17 David Grimal 1999 4:31 5:10 2:51 2:49 Jean-Jacques Kantorow 1979 5:00 5:17 2:47 3:49 Kristóf Baráti 2009 3:53 5:28 3:04 2:32 Dmitri Sitkovetsky 1997 3:56 5:31 2:37 3:39 Itzhak Perlman 1986 4:27 5:32 3:09 3:30 Henryk Szeryng 1954 4:19 5:42 3:26 2:40 James Ehnes 1999 5:10 5:47 3:04 3:22 Uto Ughi 1991 4:45 5:47 3:41 2:41 Henryk Szeryng 1968 4:44 5:47 3:49 2:56 Michael Antonello 2012 4:40 5:51 3:53 2:52 Julia Fischer 2004 4:41 5:55 2:59 3:35
Sergey Khachatryan
2008 4:05 6:23 3:21 3:26 You will undoubtedly note the variant timings in the concluding Presto movement, which make it appear, for example, that Arthur Grumiaux and Kristóf Baráti, both at 2:32, are considerably faster than several others that take over a minute longer. These discrepancies, however, are attributed to the inclusion vs. the omission of the movement’s repeats. But it’s not the Presto that particularly interests me, though I can assure you that Shaham, who takes every last repeat in all six works, is the fastest. More relevant to this review is the “Fugue” column, by which the table is sorted and bolded to make it stand out. I realize full well that there are certain movements in the Sonatas and Partitas that violinists typically take at breakneck speeds to show off their fingering and bowing dexterity. The Presto to this G-Minor Sonata is one of them; another is the Preludio to the Partita No. 3 in E Major. Should you wish in fact to be simultaneously flabbergasted and amused, you can listen to a YouTube recording (youtube.com/watch?v=UTKBxTGqjIg) made in 1904 of Pablo de Sarasate racing through the Preludio like the Roadrunner in 2:49 flat. It’s impossible to say, of course, whether he actually played it that fast, or if the speed of the primitive recording is unreliable. However, if you eliminate Sarasate’s Preludio as an aberration, Shaham’s is the fastest, beating even Heifetz’s 3:25 by four seconds. But the reason I’m zeroing in on the Fugue, and indeed the other like movements in these works, is twofold: (1) I would not have believed it possible to make one’s way through the heavily double-stopped and chorded counterpoint at such a rapid tempo. The result, which shouldn’t come as a surprise, is so perfunctory and superficial that the complete sense of the music is lost, as it’s transformed into a cartoonish caricature of itself. And (2) this is where Shaham’s album note comes into play. In it he describes how, after working on the Sonatas and Partitas for years, and trying out various bows, instrument setups, and approaches to interpretation, he finally settled for this recording on gut strings, a higher bridge, and a Baroque bow, explaining that with this setup he found that the lightness of the bow and higher elevation of the strings over the fingerboard enabled him to play faster. A word to the wise, Mr. Shaham: because you can doesn’t mean you should. Shaham offers a novel, if ultimately baseless, hypothesis for his feverish fuguing, suggesting that since the first movement fugue to Bach’s orchestral Overture No. 1 in C Major goes like the wind, so too should the fugues from the Unaccompanied Violin Sonatas. Apples and oranges. What Shaham conveniently overlooks is that while the violins in the orchestral overture’s fugue do indeed play very fast, they’re not playing double and triple stops; they’re playing long-running passages on one string at a time. That’s a whole different ballgame, and the fugues in Bach’s orchestral overtures are of a very different style and construction than are the fugues in the Unaccompanied Violin Sonatas. Moreover, even if Shaham could make a case for his “do unto one as you do unto the other,” it wouldn’t explain his rush to the fire in the opening Adagio of the G-Minor Sonata, the Allemande and Sarabande of the B-Minor Partita, the opening Grave of the A-Minor Sonata, and indeed every other movement in these works we’ve come to expect to be played with a degree of dignity, decorum, and gravitas. As I said earlier, Shaham’s approach to these profoundly intellectual and profoundly spiritual works is one of shockingly perfunctory superficiality. Here is a famous artist who has built his career and reputation playing modern instruments. He is not a Baroque specialist or one who has immersed himself in period instrument practice. Yet, seemingly seduced by its outward trappings, he misconstrues the deeper musical aims of their application. No disrespect intended to an artist I greatly admire, but in this instance, Shaham somehow conjures up for me an image of the sorcerer’s apprentice. Armed with his 1699 Countess Polignac Strad, gut strings, elevated Adam Crane bridge, and Marcus Laine bow, Shaham is able to cast the spell, but he hasn’t learned the other half of the incantation, which is how to control it, and so it runs away with him. I haven’t heard every version of the sonatas and partitas on record—not by a long shot—but I’d be very surprised if any violinist in history has ever sped through the Chaconne from the D-Minor Partita in 11 minutes. Here is the same table as above, only just for the Chaconne. D-Minor Partita Chaconne Gil Shaham 11:04 Joseph Silverstein 12:50 Kristóf Baráti 12:57 Jascha Heifetz 13:01 Arthur Grumiaux 13:14 Christian Tetzlaff 13:26 JJacques Kantorow 13:46 Nathan Milstein 13:50 Nathan Milstein 13:55 Henryk Szeryng 14:00 Yehudi Menuhin 14:09 Alina Ibragimova 14:10 Henryk Szeryng 14:22 Michael Antonello 14:50 Gergory Fulkerson 14:56 Dmitri Sitkovetsky 15:04 Uto Ughi 15:24 Itzhak Perlman 15:46 Julia Fischer 15:47 Sergey Khachatyra 16:25 James Ehnes 16:41
David Grimal 16:44
As you can see, Shaham is not
only the fastest, but faster by nearly two minutes than the second fastest
on the list, Joseph Silverstein. As a feat of pure technique, it’s truly
mind-boggling that anyone can navigate these works at such incredible
velocities, but the effect on the music is devastating, akin to an F5
tornado that strips the land bare and sucks the life and soul out of
everything it touches. While it may be an adrenaline rush to experience
Shaham’s Bach once, I, personally, wish never to experience it again. “It’s
a good thing,” as Rossini said of Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique, “that
it’s not music.” | |
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