I found Viktoria Mullova's performance of the Bach B minor Partita quite enthralling throughout. Without ever minimizing the resources of the 'modern' violin (and hers sounds like a very fine instrument indeed) she seems to have taken intelligent cognizance of what 'authentic' players have been learning: there is a lot of one-bow-to-a-note playing, for instance. Moreover, she will have nothing of the modern tendency to even out an instrument's tone. She enjoys the fact that the violin has four strings, each of which sounds different, and this perception gives life and colour even to what in other hands might seem a rather plainly phrased run of semiquavers. She has plenty of fire and virtuosity in reserve, but in reserve is where she keeps them most of the time: she never plays flashily, never lingers showily on broken chords. Her reading has a beautiful sense of line and forward movement, plenty of unassertive variety of colour and a thoughtful care for the expressive function of every note. I can hardly imagine the Partita being better done, and hope that she will soon record the other Bach solo works.
Her Bartok is very impressive, too. It seems on a slightly smaller scale than Kennedy's reading on EMI, partly because Mullova so conscientiously attempts to keep up to the composer's metronome marks that she leaves herself less time for rhetoric. Bartok estimated the duration of the Sonata at 23' 35ff. Mullova comes within a minute of this; Kennedy is four minutes slower. Mullova never sounds rushed, there is plenty of beautifully expressive cantabile in her account of the first movement and the finale is precise as well as vividly athletic. There is a slight sense of strain in the Fuga (arguably there should be: Kennedy finds it easier at his tempo but sounds a bit leisurely by comparison), only in the Melodia did I wish that Mullova had allowed herself a little more time for the grave beauty of her line to expand.
Paganini's meretriciously vulgar variations are quite a shock after the Bartok. Not even Mullova can make asthmatic-sounding harmonics and ugly alternations of left- and right-hand pizzicato sound anything but perversions of the instrument's nature, but she plays with great aplomb, obvious affection for the little Paisiello tune that Paganini occasionally allows to emerge from beneath his tarnished tinsel, and just a hint of an amused raised eyebrow. That touch of wit adds a further inch or two to the stature of this most impressive recital. The recording is ideal: close but not close-up close, and very natural.'