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Gregory Fulkerson’s Bridge Recording of J. S. Bach’s Sonatas and Partitas
Story by Paul Cox '92
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Excerpts from: J.S. Bach: Sonatas and Partitas for Unaccompanied Violin tracks: |
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Gregory Fulkerson’s Bridge Records release of J. S. Bach’s Sonatas
and Partitas for Unaccompanied Violin is distinctive for its harmonic
clarity and absolute rhythmic precision. Fulkerson, known for his virtuosic
performances of some of the most difficult contemporary violin music,
applies his ample technique toward communicating the complexity of these
eight works--four sonatas coupled with four partitas--that are daunting
for any violinist to record. They not only represent the pinnacle of unaccompanied
violin writing of any time, they are loaded with interpretive baggage:
simply deciding what ornamentation to add can be a source of consternation
for any violinist. Fulkerson’s reading is his own, though he offers
an insightful explanation of his approach in the liner notes.
The most distinctive element of Fulkerson’s interpretation is his rhythmic intensity. Of course, I cannot gaze into the past and state that Bach, as a violinist, did not possess a good sense of rhythm. But Fulkerson has a Promethean rhythmic sensibility, one that sets this recording apart from all others. The fast movements are crisp and precise. The slow ones are conservative and measured with his breath--refreshingly audible through headphones. His excellent intonation further reveals Bach’s harmonic and melodic clarity. Listening to these works late at night, I found a sense of solace in Fulkerson’s decisive interpretation.
Although I relish this intense and direct performance for its integrity, there are moments when I long for the lightheartedness of the dance. Fulkerson’s reading is closer to the cerebral interpretation of, say, Milstein than it is to a Luca or a Perlman. His concentrated sound is appropriately used to define individual voices in dense contrapuntal moments, for example, in the opening Adagio and the Fuga of the first Sonata. Again, very few violinists can claim this level of clarity, for we can hear tenor, alto, and soprano lines all moving independently and clearly. His violin, a Guadagnini of 1774, is a dark hued instrument with a warm, alto sound, particularly in the lower range. Fulkerson is at his best with this fine instrument when subtly defining harmonic motion in the Doubles of the third Partita or in the middle D major section of the Ciaccona.
Throughout his career, Fulkerson’s sound has given voice to the tension of modernity. His performances in Philip Glass’s opera Einstein on the Beach were of such rhythmic and sonic intensity that it peeled the paint off the concert hall. He brings this same sense of focus and tension to the Bach.
Start with the Double from the first Partita, which, under Fulkerson’s fingers, rivals any perpetuum mobile written in the last fifty years. Yet, within this Double, we clearly discern the stately harmonic theme of the previous movement. Fulkerson's care in revealing the inner workings--through masterful technique and attention to detail--gives his interpretations a three-dimensional quality. At any given moment we become aware of the virtuosity, the larger harmonic motion, and the clear distinction of multiple lines. Who can ask for more?
Well, what about the slow movements? I have only one request: you must listen to these movements through headphones. This is the only way to experience the intimacy of Fulkerson’s performance. The Sarabanda from the second Partita flows with gracefully eliding phrases. The constant forward direction, appoggiaturas, and subtle resolutions all lead magnificently to the codetta floating in timelessness. The soul of these Sonatas and Partitas are found in the slow movements, each offered by Fulkerson with grace and aplomb.
Again, I ask: who could ask for more?
