The Dominion Post 24th September 2004.
Marat Bisengaliev (violin) and Rachel Thomson (piano). Sonata in A, BWV 1015 (Bach); Sonata No 1, Op 80 (Prokofiev); other pieces by Vitali, Albeniz, Milstein, Kreisler and Ravel Lower Hurt Little Theatre, Wednesday REVIEWED BY: Lindis Taylor
MARAT Bisengaliev was soloist in the Khachaturian violin concerto recently with the Wellington Sinfonia. That was so impressive that the chance to hear him again in a solo recital in Lower Hutt was too good to miss. It was a thrilling concert, confirming his rating as one of today's most gifted violinists. Not that it began propitiously, with the Chaconne in G minor doubtfully attributed to Tomasio Vitali. The style seemed wrong and he seemed not to have judged the acoustic well: it sounded brash, with his exaggerated dynamics and rubato, and Rachel Thomson's un-baroque piano style. The Bach sonata was rather more discreet, though the quick movements were too emphatic and weighty for Bach. Prokofiev's First Sonata was a triumph, however; in a work whose style is clearly in the violinist's blood; he could be himself. There seemed to be nothing in the range of colours and dynamics that he — and pianist Thomson, who matched him bar by bar — could bring to it that was false or inappropriate, whether the famous, muted, will`o'the wisp figurations in the, first and last movements, or the ferocious attacks in the second and last movements. It was all a marvel of magical subtlety, rhythmic wildness and dazzling virtuosity. The second half was devoted to display pieces; but pieces in which the pyrotechnics were so compelling that the virtuosity became the music. Albeniz's Asturias had been Bisengaliev's encore at the Wellington Sinfonia concert, and here we could see at close range the extraordinary skill with which the piano piece had been transformed and executed. Paganiniana by the great violinist Nathan Milstein also transcended its essential meretriciousness in these hands. Likewise, Kreisler would have rejoiced in the playing of his Praeludium and Allegro, with all its gorgeous, sweeping gestures; the players were at home in this pseudo-18th century piece, its bold tunes and convincing rhetoric. Ravel's Tzigane, together with two encores — Rachmaninov's Vocalise and part of Wieniawski's Variations on an Original Mazurka — were farther revelatory virtuoiic marvels, but again works where great skill was always at the service of musical integrity.
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