If you’ve studied the violin you know that with no other instrument are the technical challenges and “occupational” dangers so numerous, and if you’ve ever performed publicly on the violin, completely solo, you know what “nowhere to hide” truly means. Courage is not a bad attribute to possess if you’re going to do this sort of thing, that is, perform formidably difficult works for solo violin, such as the ones with which Rachel Barton Pine fills this outstanding program.
However, Pine has reached a point where when she plays you don’t notice the mechanics nor do you detect any of the anxious signals of bowing, phrasing, or tempo that betray a less-confident–or less-technically accomplished–artist. In other words, sit back and relax (if you can), and enjoy the work of a real virtuoso who obviously loves her instrument and is absolutely enamored of her chosen repertoire.
Rather than notice the “mechanics” or the details of Pine’s technique (for these works are really mostly about technique and the stylishness of its execution) you marvel at the facility, the sheer sharpness of articulation, the bursts of dramatic intensity (and of course the uncompromised intonation)–and speaking of style, Pine relishes the particular Latin flavors of works such as the two by Manuel Quiroga (the sensual Emigrantes Celtas, the tangy Terra!! Á Nosa!!), the famous guitar piece (arr. by Ruggiero Ricci for violin) Recuerdos de la Alhambra, and the remarkable virtuoso exploration of the tango (commissioned by Pine) by José Serebrier, Aires de Tango.
Every possible element of bowing and fingering technique is on display somewhere–almost everywhere!–among these 14 pieces, several of which are world premieres or are very rarely heard or recorded. Pine is amazing in her ability to dash off runs of double-stops and sweep through near-impossible flourishes of arpeggios while maintaining the structural integrity and melodic flow of the piece at hand. I wasn’t as impressed as some with Pine’s arrangement of Albéniz’s Asturias–the violin’s timbre, especially throughout the passages with repeated upper-register notes, just seems a bit harsh, particularly when compared with the work’s piano or guitar settings. Of course the playing is superb (I love those octave pizzicatos!, and also the ending is delightful), but the music feels like it’s being forced to be sung by an instrument it’s not comfortable with.
I love Pine’s Piazzolla arrangement–a medley she made herself from her study of the composer’s music and playing style of his violinists; however, I’m not a fan of her own introduction to the piece–a “bit of the chicharra [cicada]”, a technique in which the bow is “scrunched” behind the bridge, a very abrasive sound that just doesn’t seem to fit the rest of the piece. This of course is a small thing, and as sure as I write this there will be many listeners who disagree. I was a little unsure of how Pine and narrator Héctor Elizondo would pull off the performance of Alan Ridout’s version of the story Ferdinand the Bull. How would a solo violin accompanying the actor’s reading maintain an engaging, varied, colorful enough accompaniment for nearly 11 minutes? Well, just listen and try not to be enchanted by these two performers–and even with Elizondo’s very characterful reading, the violin nearly steals the show.
The sound throughout brings us in natural presence and perspective to Pine and her Guarneri violin. You many not want to listen to an entire 79 minutes of high-powered solo violin music at one sitting–but you will want to hear all of it, sooner or later. Impressive and essential for lovers of the violin and virtuoso artistry at its finest. [7/22/2011]
