Bright and bold playing here from this duo recorded in Metz, chief city of the Moselle region. Refreshing, too, though sometimes I wish they would relax more. However, they rightly do not dress up the fresh-faced youthful sonatas – and all but Op. 96 are youthful, with the Kreutzer dating from Beethoven’s thirty-third year – and one becomes increasingly won over by the directness and clear focus of the playing, where briskness comes without roughness and energy without loss of poise.
The interpretative style here is all of a piece, with tempos tending to extra pace and real urgency in, for example, the sprightly 6/8 Allegro vivace that opens the second sonata in the Op. 12 triptych. I thought that this duo must be faster here than Kremer and Argerich, but their timing is exactly the same: yet there is something especially vivid in the approach of Messiereur and Bogunia which makes this movement and much else seem extra tense. I don’t deny liking this, but doubt whether it gives us the full picture; it would help if the duo had balanced things by being more spacious in slow movements, but even here they often convey a tension that prevents the listener (justifiably with this composer, they might argue) from sitting back comfortably. Stimulating this playing undoubtedly is, cosy no.
Yet how admirably vivid and alert is a movement such as the Allegro piacevole finale of the earlier A major Sonata, how keen and crisp the ensemble in the Presto opening movement of the A minor work (where, however, they omit the second repeat), how innocent and insouciant the corresponding movement of the Spring Sonata, where the DG duo are self-consciously winsome. The Adagio molto espressivo of this sonata also flowers as it should, providing that these artists can indeed relax their tight rein where they feel it necessary; incidentally, the Scherzo and finale are played attacca and banded together. There’s a sunny humour in the Scherzo of the C minor Sonata and throughout its successor in G – more than the DG artists give us (though in the finale the pianist misses his melodic bass G in bar 109).
Ultimately this is a set which I distinctly warm to, while recognizing that it departs somewhat from an interpretative middle-of-the-road position. It’s worth adding that Stanislav Bogunia (hitherto unknown to me) is a fine pianist and partner. Apart from the quality of the performances, the recording is both natural and pleasing: try the start of Op. 30 No. 1 to hear sound with both impact and delicacy. The duo give the later sonatas more warmth and flexibility than they accord to the early ones, and clearly their whole approach has been carefully thought out. They are surprisingly poised in the outer movements of the C minor Sonata, bringing out their mystery as well as the obvious agitations and thunderings. The Kreutzer is beautifully shaped and shaded, and so is its lyrical Op. 96 successor, coming nine years later and already looking forward to third-period style: the violinist here gives us a tonal sweetness that I prefer to Gidon Kremer’s sound. I prefer this set to its DG rival, unlike which it presents the sonatas in chronological sequence. However, the safest recommendation perhaps remains the warmly thoughtful Perlman and Ashkenazy, recorded in the 1970s and now available on four mid-price discs.'