 Sarah Chang The time comes in most violinists' careers to put out an album of buoyant, sprightly, virtuostic and reasonably famous short pieces, works that are invariably tossed in as encores in their concert appearances. These albums serve the dual purpose of snagging people who are just general, casual fans of the instrument, as well as demonstrating "personality" or "humor." Any performer that gets to a certain level of mainstream popularity is bound to run into this non-artistic type of release sooner or later. The more albums like this in an artist's discography, the cheesier they end up being perceived (hence, Isaac Stern is cheese, Anne-Sofie Mutter is cool). Well, whatever. Although I certainly talk a lot, I have no real opinion one way or another on albums like this. I am not a huge fan of the violin itself, although well-played it can be pretty amazing. I'm definitely more a piano person. Violins squeak; pianos boogie-woogie. All that said, here is Sarah Chang with her collection of encores … well-chosen and well-performed, showcasing her technique and expressiveness with great enthusiasm. She was 15 at the time the disc was recorded, and her playing is pretty much flawless. Of course there's not all that much weight to a disc like this, but what do you want. A couple of Paganini pieces, a couple from Sarastae, then scattered offerings from Gluck, Prokofiev, Brahms, Sibelius, and others. Several of the pieces (I'll single out Bazzini's "Dance of the Goblins") have the sort of "Flight of the Bumblebee"-esque spirit that can only be compared to an overly inspired cheerleader. If you love the violin, I imagine this sort of thing is pretty wonderful. If not, significantly less so. Fortunately, lots of the tracks (all violin solo to piano accompaniment) are slower and more romantic, and there's nothing so famous on here that you end up shaking your head going "No, not the 'Humoresque' again, please." I particularly like the sappy stuff on here like Fauré's "Berceuse" (Op. 16), Paganini's "Sonata No. 12" (Op. 3), and Sarasate's "Introduction & Tarantella" (Op. 43). It's a pleasant enough disc to put on in the background, but not anything of huge artistic merit or lasting satisfaction. I suppose it would be ideal if you happen to be scoring a silent film, because it captures exactly the sense of rose-tinted nostalgia you get watching some old melodrama. Watch out for the guy with the handlebar moustache – he always turns out to be a scoundrel!
Review by Whumpey Starlyle |