After a hiatus of about 15 years, it has become fashionable again among period-instrument players to record the complete violin sonatas of Corelli. Last time round it was by such diverse violinists as the Austrian Eduard Melkus and the American Sonya Monosoff; now it has been undertaken by the much-admired English player Monica Huggett and the Australian (resident in England) Elizabeth Wallfisch. Of the two, Huggett's appeared first on Virgin Classics and has already been reviewed in these pages; it has an undeniable warmth and immediacy and in many respects may be considered as near as can be to definitive. However, one has only to listen to a few bars of Wallfisch's set to realize that she has something new and important to say about this music.
Epitomizing the mid-baroque sonata, the Corelli Op. 5 collection achieved, even in the composer's own lifetime, a universality that, even within the definition of a technically perfect (or near-perfect) performance, enabled it to survive all manner of personal interpretation imposed on it. Elizabeth Wallfisch brings very remarkable insights, and perhaps motivations, to her recordings. Many will prefer her performances to any that have gone before. If one has recently been listening to the Huggett versions, the difference in recording environments will be immediately striking. Rarefied, you may say; but after a few moments' adjustment, the subtlety and refinement of Wallfisch's performances and of her group, the Locatelli Trio, will lift your expectations to a new level of delights.
On a purely technical level, her bow control—the variety of strokes she uses and the exquisite way in which she caresses the strings, even in chordal passages—is absolutely superb. And in spite of the inevitable similarities of idiom in the 12 sonatas (for example, the chains of suspensions and diminutions, be they music slow or fast), Wallfisch never seems prey to cliche; rather, she imbues them with a refreshing innocence. Indeed, there often seems a wistfulness about these performances, as though she were looking backwards, in sharp contrast with the forward-looking quality of Huggett's manner. These qualities are particularly evident in Wallfisch's performance of Sonatas Nos. 2, 4, 7 and 8.
These performances, then, like those of Wallfisch's contemporary, speak very personally to the listener and for that they must be prized. I for one would like to own both sets, turning to one or other according to my mood, for in a real sense they complement one another, communicating as they do to different parts of the brain.'