The most immediately striking aspect of Julia Fischer’s playing, technically speaking, is its immaculate finish. Her mastery is beyond question, her ability to trace a smooth, even line a source of pleasure itself. These are in general lightly pressured, leisurely and at times rather austere performances, the mighty fugue of the C major Sonata projected as a flowing legato, with chords balanced so that each harmonic strand remains totally clear within the overall blend. As recorded, Julia Fischer’s tone is full-bodied; if ultimately the fugue lacks cumulative impact (Heifetz being the highest achiever in that respect), the cool beauty of her playing is hard to resist.
For many, the ultimate litmus test will be the D minor Partita with its quarter-hour Chaconne (here 15’43”), a form fashioned after a dance though Fischer’s approach is more stately than dance-like, secure in execution and with an imposing expressive solemnity. The Partita’s earlier movements subscribe roughly to a formula where the quieter music is granted a chaste, blanched tone, with vibrato (usually fast and narrow) edging in only as the heat of the phrase rises. It’s a sort of half-way house between period-style asceticism and a more emotive style associated with the various 20th-century schools. The Courante is nicely articulated, the Sarabande inward and meditative, and the Gigue decorated with subtle echo effects (though Fischer never indulges in notational decorations).
The First Sonata’s fugue goes well, though I was less than convinced by the ritardando near the end. Fischer takes most of the B minor Partita quite slowly, with distended phrase-ends in the great Sarabande (note the ringing upper voice from 2’34”) and a gently rolling Double. More than once my mind harked back to Johanna Martzy or to the young Nathan Milstein (the cooler element) whose readings are similarly poised and polished. Reservations? I was sometimes bothered by minor hesitations (there’s one at 6’25” into the A minor Sonata) and would have liked more in the way of expressive flexibility, in the slow movements of the A minor and C major Sonatas for example. Also, the odd smiling gesture wouldn’t have come amiss: most of this music is, after all, based on dance models, and that needs to come across.
But these are minor quibbles in the light of a significant talent, and wouldn’t even have been worth making were it not for a barrage of top-grade available alternatives (around 40 in all) from the likes of Heifetz, Milstein, Grumiaux, Benjamin Schmid and Rachel Podger. All leave a more memorable impression, though with her fine technique, her ear for felicitous detail and, as I suggested at the head of this review, her invariable polish, Fischer is still well worth hearing.
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